Read Online Twilight Magic by Shari Anton - Free Book Online
Authors: Shari Anton
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thirst, but not her worry over whether Darian would still be at Hadone when she awoke on the morn.
He certainly didn’t want to be here, and all during their journey the feeling had strengthened that he came to Hadone only because he’d told William he would see her safely delivered to the castle.
What would she do if he abandoned her to rush off to find de Salis’s murderer? The erroneous charge must be uppermost in his mind, nagging at him, eventually pushing him to take action. How soon? Would he even come in to supper as he’d said?
Perhaps she did need a cup of wine, so she allowed Gar to lead her up the steep stairway to the keep’s second floor and through the large oak doors that opened into the great hall.
A cold, damp hall, despite the fire in the hearth and several lit torches. No rushes softened the floor. Though three magnificent wolf hounds lounged by the fire, no hunting birds perched in the high rafters. No adornments graced the walls.
At Camelen her father had hung weapons and tapestries to tease the eye and arouse the imagination. At Hadone one was greeted with unembellished gray stone. Still, Hadone’s hall was akin in shape and size to Camelen’s, bringing a lump to her throat, which she quickly swallowed.
No dais had been built to support a high table for the lord and his favorites. The men who gathered for supper crowded around two trestle tables in the middle of the room, and silence descended as they began noticing the stranger in their midst.
Master craftsmen, she guessed, from the quality of their garb and other revealing clues. The thin man with sawdust sprinkled in his dark hair was likely the master carpenter. Another bore gray dust on his tunic. The master mason? The hulk of a man at the far end of the table could be none other than the blacksmith. The rest would be of their rank, though she couldn’t be sure of their crafts.
Emma kept her chin up, her expression passive. Darian was convinced she would be treated with consideration, but then, these people hadn’t yet heard why she’d come to Hadone. Once they found out what she’d confessed in court, and that she’d been forced to marry a mercenary because of her imprudence, many wouldn’t be inclined to friendliness.
Not that she would make friends among the craftsmen. Her rank set her above them, and she wouldn’t be here long enough for the barrier to lower.
Of more import to Emma was the only other woman in the room. Young and pretty, she stood near the stairway, obviously giving orders to the servants who bore Emma’s trunks. No veil covered the woman’s raven-black braid. Her brown gown might be simple and devoid of embroidery, but the fit was excellent and the wool of fine weave. When finished with the servants, smiling softly, the woman hurried toward the doorway.
“Lady Emma, my daughter, Maura,” Gar said, the fondness in his voice impossible to mistake.
Maura dipped into a curtsy. “My lady. I bid thee welcome to Hadone. I took the liberty of having your trunks sent up to my bedchamber, and ordered the serving wench to bring two more trenchers from the kitchen. You and Darian will join us at table, of course.”
Maura’s smile was so genuine Emma couldn’t help smiling, too. Perhaps being exiled at Hadone wouldn’t be too bad.
Emma removed her cloak; Maura took it and handed it off to a servant.
“I thank you, Maura. I would be honored to join you, as will Darian, I am sure.”
“Wonderful.” She looked to her father. “So where is he? Not staying away because he argued with you, I hope.”
“Oh, nay,” Gar answered in a casual tone that wasn’t casual at all. “He will be in shortly, I imagine. I should think he would wish to dine with his wife.”
Maura’s smile slipped, and then her eyes widened slightly as she caught Gar’s meaning.
“You and Darian are wed?”
Emma took a steadying breath, having hoped to avoid explanations so soon. And what was keeping Darian? He knew these
He certainly didn’t want to be here, and all during their journey the feeling had strengthened that he came to Hadone only because he’d told William he would see her safely delivered to the castle.
What would she do if he abandoned her to rush off to find de Salis’s murderer? The erroneous charge must be uppermost in his mind, nagging at him, eventually pushing him to take action. How soon? Would he even come in to supper as he’d said?
Perhaps she did need a cup of wine, so she allowed Gar to lead her up the steep stairway to the keep’s second floor and through the large oak doors that opened into the great hall.
A cold, damp hall, despite the fire in the hearth and several lit torches. No rushes softened the floor. Though three magnificent wolf hounds lounged by the fire, no hunting birds perched in the high rafters. No adornments graced the walls.
At Camelen her father had hung weapons and tapestries to tease the eye and arouse the imagination. At Hadone one was greeted with unembellished gray stone. Still, Hadone’s hall was akin in shape and size to Camelen’s, bringing a lump to her throat, which she quickly swallowed.
No dais had been built to support a high table for the lord and his favorites. The men who gathered for supper crowded around two trestle tables in the middle of the room, and silence descended as they began noticing the stranger in their midst.
Master craftsmen, she guessed, from the quality of their garb and other revealing clues. The thin man with sawdust sprinkled in his dark hair was likely the master carpenter. Another bore gray dust on his tunic. The master mason? The hulk of a man at the far end of the table could be none other than the blacksmith. The rest would be of their rank, though she couldn’t be sure of their crafts.
Emma kept her chin up, her expression passive. Darian was convinced she would be treated with consideration, but then, these people hadn’t yet heard why she’d come to Hadone. Once they found out what she’d confessed in court, and that she’d been forced to marry a mercenary because of her imprudence, many wouldn’t be inclined to friendliness.
Not that she would make friends among the craftsmen. Her rank set her above them, and she wouldn’t be here long enough for the barrier to lower.
Of more import to Emma was the only other woman in the room. Young and pretty, she stood near the stairway, obviously giving orders to the servants who bore Emma’s trunks. No veil covered the woman’s raven-black braid. Her brown gown might be simple and devoid of embroidery, but the fit was excellent and the wool of fine weave. When finished with the servants, smiling softly, the woman hurried toward the doorway.
“Lady Emma, my daughter, Maura,” Gar said, the fondness in his voice impossible to mistake.
Maura dipped into a curtsy. “My lady. I bid thee welcome to Hadone. I took the liberty of having your trunks sent up to my bedchamber, and ordered the serving wench to bring two more trenchers from the kitchen. You and Darian will join us at table, of course.”
Maura’s smile was so genuine Emma couldn’t help smiling, too. Perhaps being exiled at Hadone wouldn’t be too bad.
Emma removed her cloak; Maura took it and handed it off to a servant.
“I thank you, Maura. I would be honored to join you, as will Darian, I am sure.”
“Wonderful.” She looked to her father. “So where is he? Not staying away because he argued with you, I hope.”
“Oh, nay,” Gar answered in a casual tone that wasn’t casual at all. “He will be in shortly, I imagine. I should think he would wish to dine with his wife.”
Maura’s smile slipped, and then her eyes widened slightly as she caught Gar’s meaning.
“You and Darian are wed?”
Emma took a steadying breath, having hoped to avoid explanations so soon. And what was keeping Darian? He knew these
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