Avelynn Read Online Free Page B

cheek.
    From my vantage point on the ground, I watched as a crimson flush rose up Edward’s neck to his cheeks, painted his nose with a vibrant swath of red, and then traveled outward in earnest, turning the tips of his ears a bright pink.
    I stood, wiping all amusement from my face, and extended a strong hand to Edward. “Good battle, sir.”
    Edward beamed.
    The door to my cottage opened suddenly. On impulse, I swung around, holding the point of my wooden sword directly at the Adam’s apple of a stranger. I watched in amusement as the little lump bobbed up and down as its owner swallowed hard.
    My father stood behind, gripping the door’s iron handle like steel, his knuckles turning white. I withdrew my sword and set it against the wall beside me.
    â€œAvelynn, you will remember Demas of Wareham. He has come to call.”

 
    THREE
    I eyed Demas warily, prepared to make a considerable objection, but the look on my father’s face made it clear any attempt would be unwise, so I curtsied with all due ceremony instead.
    My father turned to Edward. “Bertram is ready to continue with your studies.” He bowed to Ealhswith. “Lady, your husband awaits your company; he wishes to return to Winchester immediately.”
    I pleaded with my eyes, imploring Ealhswith to tarry, but she stepped to the door and grabbed her cloak. “I’ll speak with you soon, Avelynn,” she said, looking over Demas. She smiled brilliantly behind his back and retreated out of the cottage.
    Wulfric stepped inside, ducking under the lintel, and leaned against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, hungry, predatory eyes fixed on the stranger. With a nod to his master of arms, my father ushered Edward out.
    I rushed forward. “Wait. What news of the Vikings?”
    â€œWessex is safe. For now.” My father’s eyes held reassurance and trust, and a warning securing the abrupt end to any more discussion.
    I nodded and stepped back. He shut the door behind him.
    My heart hammered in my chest. Demas and I stared at each other. Beads of sweat glistened on his broad forehead, threatening to drip into his hazel eyes.
    â€œWould you walk with me, lady?” he asked.
    The wind hissed through the thatch. It was cold, and I really had no interest in stepping outside. I pouted a plea to Wulfric, who merely shrugged and stood ready by the door.
    â€œOf course. Let me get my cloak.”
    It was early evening, and Wedmore was lit softly by the pale autumn sun. There was one main road that flowed from north to south. At the north end was my father’s manor, set high atop a hill. The manor, with all its yards and outbuildings, was surrounded by a wooden palisade, and there was only one way in or out—a guarded gate—which we passed through in silence. I waved limply to Leofric, the lone guard on duty.
    Wedmore was one of the richest villages in the area. It boasted a tavern, blacksmith, glassmaker, metalworker, potter, and—rather astonishingly—a personable priest. The tavern demarcated the southern end of town, and in between the manor and the tavern, bordering the road on the west and east sides, were two neat rows of houses and merchant cottages. From the central hub of the village, precious hides of farmland stretched out like spokes in a wheel. Surrounding all of that was a wide, deep ditch and a great mound of heaped earth that encircled the ditch like a coiled serpent. Beyond the ditch, my father had also erected a wooden palisade.
    I shook my head. My father never did anything in degrees—it was all or nothing with him—which brought my silent musings back to the man beside me.
    Demas walked at a brisk pace, his head down, shoulders hunched. The wind whipped up from behind and sent a chill of gooseflesh up my back. I flipped my hood up and over my head and drew the cloak tighter.
    Still bathed in thorny silence, we moved deeper into the village. The press of houses