Fortress of Mist Read Online Free

top three stories of the keep’s square design contained residences, with the lord’s rooms onthe top. All rooms were tucked against the four outer walls, so each level was open in the center and looked down upon the hall. Beneath was the dungeon, so deep below the stone that the cries of prisoners would never reach the hall.
    Thomas always shuddered when he pictured that hole of endless night. He had spent much too long there once, almost doomed before he could even start the events that had led to him conquering Magnus. And now—the thought was always on his mind, even as he swung open the great doors of the keep to allow the Earl of York inside—the dungeon held a silent and stubborn prisoner, proving to be one of his thorniest problems as a newly conquering lord.
    Until the arrival of the earl.
    “May I leave, my lord?” Robert asked.
    “As you wish,” Thomas said. He would have appreciated the man beside him during a discussion with the earl. But the need for help might show weakness. Thomas was glad that Robert knew it too. It said much for the man’s cunning.
    Thomas gestured at two leather-padded chairs near the hearth. Before they had time to sit, a maid appeared with two cups containing a steaming mixture of milk, sugar, and crushed barley.
    The earl raised an eyebrow. “No wine?”
    Disdain?
    Thomas remembered the instructions from long ago: never show fear, nor hesitation.
    “No wine,” Thomas confirmed. “It tends to encourage sloth.”
    The earl grinned. “There’s gentle criticism if I ever heard it. And from one so young.”
    They studied each other.
    Thomas repeated to himself: Never show fear, nor hesitation . Hewanted to close his eyes briefly to silently thank Sarah, who had spent many hours coaching him on how to behave as a lord. She alone had believed he would someday rule Magnus. And now he faced his first great test. What does the earl want? What is he thinking?
    His eyes did not leave the earl’s face. Thomas saw a man already forty years old, but with a face quite different than one would expect of royalty at that age. The chin had not doubled, or tripled, with good living. No broken veins on his nose to suggest too much enjoyment of wine. No sagging circles beneath his eyes betrayed sleepless nights from poor health or a bad conscience.
    Instead, the face was broad and remarkably smooth. Neatly trimmed red-blond hair that spoke of Viking ancestry. Blue eyes that matched the sky just before dusk. Straight, strong teeth that now gleamed in a smile.
    Thomas lifted his thick clay cup in a wordless salute. The earl responded in turn and gulped the thick, sweet drink.
    Sunlight glinted from the earl’s huge gold ring. Thomas froze.
    Its symbol was identical to that on Geoffrey’s ring and Isabelle’s pendant.

D o you treat all visitors this harshly?” the earl asked.
    “Sir! I beg of you forgiveness. Do you wish to dine immediately?”
    “It is hardly the food, or lack thereof. Surely you have questions, yet you force me to begin!”
    “Again, I beg of you forgiveness.”
    “If you want me to believe that, you have to better hide your smile.”
    The earl laughed at the obvious discomfort his statement caused Thomas. “Enough,” he then said. “I see you and I shall get along famously. I detest men who offer me their throats like craven dogs.”
    “Thank you, my lord,” Thomas said quietly. He coughed. “I presume you are here to inspect me.”
    The earl nodded.
    “I thought as much,” Thomas said. “Otherwise you would not have made such a show of mistakenly greeting my sheriff, Robert.”
    This time, the earl had enough grace to show discomfort. “My acting was so poor?”
    Thomas shook his head. “Between Robert and me, you should have easily guessed which one was young enough to be the new lord of Magnus. Only a fool would have entered Magnus without knowing anything about his future ally—or opponent.”
    Thomas held his breath.
    The Earl of York decided to let the