Shadow Over Avalon Read Online Free

her of the highest caste.
    Horn calls from the heights warned of traders approaching. Ashira hurried into the fort to bathe and change. With peaceful company coming, she needed to dress modestly – not that she expected to see any of the travellers, but just in case they spotted her about her duties.
    Once back in her own room, Ashira frowned at the sight of her hair. The untidy blonde curls, windswept from her ride, needed braiding. She had just finished weaving it into a coronet, pinned tight against her head when Kayla, aged servant to the women’s quarters, shuffled into her room.
    “His Majesty wants you in the audience chamber at once,” the crone mumbled. Excited that punishment for Ashira was in the offing; a runnel of saliva wove down the network of lines crinkling her mouth.
    That made three times this year King Hald had learned she rode out beyond her limits against his orders. She reached for a plain gray dress with long sleeves. Maybe he didn’t know of her ride, but she laced up a pair of sturdy sandals for better balance in case of a whipping, despite the extra seconds this cost her. Before she could affix the face veil required for going into a general area in the presence of strangers, she lost her grip of the slippery fabric when Kayla tugged on her sleeve. No time to pick it up off the floor. He became more brutal when he had to wait longer than expected. Her back still hurt from his last rage.
    “He said now. Leave it.” Kayla led the way to the audience chamber where she bowed, to shuffle away before any more orders robbed her of time dozing beside a fire.
    Her father, seated on a dais at the far end of the vast cavern, appeared flustered. His crown sat crooked, leaving his gray hair protruding from under the rim at one side. He wore a brown tunic over beige hose, his formal attire for important occasions. Kieran stood behind and to the right; her brother’s straight red hair framed a sharp face that made Ashira think of foxes. His presence meant this wasn’t a simple whipping for riding unattended, so what did her father want of her?
    Hald’s brittle smile reached his eyes without kindness. Every instinct warned her not to speak. Years of his indifference peeled away to reveal a single glimpse of loathing mixed with some expression akin to pleasure. Today, her father was a dangerous stranger. Icy fingers played over her flesh, raising each hair on her neck.
    “Did you enjoy your ride?” her stranger-father enquired.
    “Storm needed exercise.” Damn, he knew.
    “You could not wait for an escort, or stay in sight of the fort? You decided to risk Syril’s safety by leaving her unprotected with an Outcast in Menhill. You were trained to guard her. Did you give no thought as to why I hired this creature?” Her father smiled.
    “I learned of the Outcast’s presence on my return.” Ashira glanced at Kieran, trying to gain some clue from him. He had his gaze fixed on some far distance. Was this to be another whipping, or worse, loss of her horse?
    “Had you chosen to obey my orders you would have known of the potential threat to Menhill, as well as why I employed an Outcast.”
    “Syril never . . . ” Ashira bit back the rest of her excuse when his hand rose to silence her. She tried to swallow in a sand-dry mouth. Her heart pounded.
    He raised his hand again in signal, and the tramp of feet sounded. Hald opened his other hand to reveal the crumpled scrap of a face veil, which he shook out to flick almost within her reach. Something heavy thumped down behind her, sending an echo booming in the great hall, but she kept her eyes focused on the face of her terrifying, stranger-father.
    “Welcome, Traders,” Hald said, his tone couched as a quiet threat.
    A stolen glance behind revealed five strangers. Kayla hadn’t warned her that these men would have an audience at once. Ashira didn’t care if they saw her in uniform, but wearing this gown without a face veil, and unable to blend into the