Read Online Twilight Magic by Shari Anton - Free Book Online Page A

people and should be here to tell the tale. He’d said to tell the truth, but sweet Jesu, how much of it?
    “Aye. We were wed yester morn. I know it is unusual for a lady to wed a mercenary—”
    “Outright unheard of,” Gar interrupted.
    She contained her irritation for the sake of harmony, not knowing how long she would have to endure the steward’s arrogance. “The tale is rather confusing. If you do not mind, I would prefer Darian relate it.”
    Maura fairly beamed. “Oh, this is intriguing. But come, you must be weary and hungry. Sit and eat and we shall await Darian with eager ears.”
    As they approached the nearest table, all of the men stood. Gar took his seat at the head, and Maura waved a hand at where Emma should sit, on Gar’s left. A trencher already sat on the table, the gravy having seeped into the almost white bread.
    This was Maura’s place and trencher, certainly. Emma bit her lip to keep from declining the seat so Maura could finish her meal in her accustomed seat. But as the steward’s daughter, Maura knew the rules of hospitality, which she’d already followed when giving up her bed. So Emma gingerly sat on the bench, acknowledging the men’s bows with a nod as if she were some important personage, which she wasn’t.
    Maura then waved her hands. “Move down, all of you. We have guests.”
    The hulk at the end of the table didn’t resume his seat. In a voice so quiet Emma strained to hear, claiming he had finished his meal, he begged leave of Gar.
    With permission granted, Maura pouted. “I did not mean to rush you, Master Smith.”
    “I rush myself, Maura. I have chisels to sharpen and trowels to straighten before the morning work begins.”
    The men on the other side of the table accommodated Maura, who dragged her trencher over to her new seat. The men on Emma’s side slid down, leaving plenty of room for Darian.
    As host, Gar felt obligated to make introductions. She’d guessed right about the master mason and carpenter. Then came the forester and bailiff, and, to her surprise, the falconer.
    “Do you like the hunt, my lady?” Gar asked.
    “I have not hunted in an age.” She again searched the rafters. “Have you hawks?”
    “Earl William decided he preferred no feathers in his meals, so we built a mews. On the morrow, pray go have a look. The earl spared no expense for his hawks and falcons.”
    Gar’s pride said he approved.
    At the edge of her vision, Emma caught sight of a lad with goblet and flagon in hand. The sound of more footsteps behind her meant her food had arrived and made her stomach growl.
    To cover her noticeably loud appreciation for the upcoming meal, she continued the conversation. “I noticed the dogs by the hearth. Wolfhounds, are they not?”
    Again more pride.
    “They are. Great hunters, and excellent guard dogs, too. We turn them loose in the bailey at night. Since the darkness hampers their ability to tell friend from foe, everyone remains inside their quarters.” He leaned forward with a conspiratorial wink. “Keeps everyone in their place.”
    Apparently Gar put great importance on keeping everyone in their place, which she’d already witnessed when the steward spoke to Darian. Was that why Darian took so long to come into the hall, because he didn’t want to deal with Gar?
    One of the servants reached around her to serve the meal, and Emma looked down expecting to see a trencher. To her utter horror, there sat a washbasin, the water clear, the surface still and shining.
    Caught off guard, Emma watched as her reflection wavered in the small but perilous pool of water. The water turned bloodred, and chilled her to the bone.
    Terrified of what horrors might be revealed, Emma plunged her hands into the water basin and clamped her eyes shut. The entrancement broke, preventing the vision.
    As always happened when she halted a vision, pain immediately pierced the base of her skull and spread swiftly upward and outward to encompass her entire