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Back Rosemarked
Chapters (58)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright
  3. Dedication
  4. Part One
  5. Chapter One
  6. Chapter Two
  7. Chapter Three
  8. Chapter Four
  9. Chapter Five
  10. Part Two: Three Months Later
  11. Chapter Six
  12. Chapter Seven
  13. Chapter Eight
  14. Chapter Nine
  15. Chapter Ten
  16. Chapter Eleven
  17. Chapter Twelve
  18. Chapter Thirteen
  19. Chapter Fourteen
  20. Chapter Fifteen
  21. Chapter Sixteen
  22. Chapter Seventeen
  23. Chapter Eighteen
  24. Chapter Nineteen
  25. Chapter Twenty
  26. Chapter Twenty-one
  27. Part Three
  28. Chapter Twenty-two
  29. Chapter Twenty-three
  30. Chapter Twenty-four
  31. Chapter Twenty-five
  32. Chapter Twenty-six
  33. Chapter Twenty-seven
  34. Chapter Twenty-eight
  35. Chapter Twenty-nine
  36. Chapter Thirty
  37. Chapter Thirty-one
  38. Chapter Thirty-two
  39. Chapter Thirty-three
  40. Chapter Thirty-four
  41. Chapter Thirty-five
  42. Chapter Thirty-six
  43. Chapter Thirty-seven
  44. Chapter Thirty-eight
  45. Chapter Thirty-nine
  46. Chapter Forty
  47. Chapter Forty-one
  48. Chapter Forty-two
  49. Chapter Forty-three
  50. Chapter Forty-four
  51. Chapter Forty-five
  52. Chapter Forty-six
  53. Chapter Forty-seven
  54. Chapter Forty-eight
  55. Epilogue
  56. Acknowledgments
  57. About the Author
  58. Keep Reading for a Sneak Peek at Umbertouched

Sated now, I turn my attention to the log bridge. It’s about as wide as the length of my hand and forearm combined, and looks sturdy, with bark that gives a bit of traction. The water below is murky and looks cold. The log wobbles under my weight, and I stumble like a drunken mouse before finally catching my balance. The water flowing underneath makes me dizzy, and I keep my eyes on the opposite bank as I make my way forward.
I’m about a quarter of the way across when one of the soldiers on the opposite bank steps onto the log. It’s Cas. He smiles, and it’s not the friendly kind. Somehow, I doubt he’s here to help me across.

I watch him now, flexing my fingers as we get closer together. I grab for him at the same time he grabs for me. A mad scramble for control, a shift of weight, a throw of my hip. He falls off the log, sending a splash of water up around us. I nearly follow, but wrap my arm and leg around the log to catch myself. Thank the gods for the long sleeves of my tunic, or bark would be embedded all over my arms. Still, I’m pretty sure I picked up some nasty bruises. Groaning, I haul myself back up, regain my footing, and keep on going.

I’m halfway across when the next man comes. I’m smarter about it this time. Just as he’s about to reach me, I shake the log. The movement is slight, but enough to toss him off-kilter, and I give him some help over the side.

I’m not surprised at all when a third man comes as I’m nearing the end, but I do swallow a lump of sheer disbelief when I see him. This man is a giant. He’s a head taller than me, and his arms look like tree trunks. I half expect the log to snap in two when he steps on it, but no such luck, and he’s heavy enough that my earlier trick of shaking the bridge won’t work. I sink lower, thinking maybe I can get his legs or trip him up, but I misjudge my reach. He grabs my shoulders, and the next thing I know I’m flying through the air. I hit the water with a slap, and the cold stuns me a moment before I regain my senses and paddle toward the surface. My feet find the bottom at the same time my head breaks through the top. Thank the gods, the water is only neck deep. I spit water out of my mouth as the big soldier grins down at me from the log.

“Your mother’s ugly,” I shout at him. He just grins wider.

Humiliation’s the least of my worries. Does falling off the log mean I failed the trial?