The Book of Mordred Read Online Free Page B

the shirt Toland had been buried in matched exactly the blue of the family's best tablecloth, which was the same as the blanket Kiera used on chilly nights. Or had—until this morning.
    Even on her fathers manor, her stepmother and the servants would dye all the season's wool in just one or two batches, since the work was so time consuming and messy. As a result, each piece of cloth was linked to a particular year and its events: blue from woad (the year her father remarried), and a lighter blue from a different batch of woad six years later (when Galen was sent to Camelot to be a squire), scarlet the year all four of them had gone to the Canterbury fair where her stepmother bought madder, and a rich russet the year Alayna left to marry Toland.
    But here in Camelot, with so many people, colors were bright and endlessly varied, with no two exactly alike—a noisy, cheerful, festival atmosphere.
    Alayna tried not to let it irritate her. The people of Camelot weren't the ones behind Kiera's abduction;
they
had no way of knowing how anxious she was about her daughter's safety, or how their bright colors and friendly laughter seemed to mock her distress.
    People called greetings to Mordred as he and Alayna rode through the streets, but he gave only cursory acknowledgment, never slowing except to take care that the horses would not trod on anyone.
    In the courtyard, servants came to take their horses. Dismounting, Alayna almost collapsed when her pained and bloodied feet met the ground. She clutched at the shoulders of the wide-eyed groom who tightened his grip on her. "My Lady," he said, distressed, but she managed to gasp, "I'm well enough." Her hips and thighs ached too, from the ride. But Mordred hadn't seen her undignified stagger, for he'd been dismounting at the same time. Now, as he turned, she forced herself as straight as she could manage, for she would not allow the indignity of letting herself be carried in. "I'm well enough," she repeated, releasing the groom, and Mordred led her into the castle itself, which seemed only slightly less crowded than the public streets.
    She followed him at a cramped and stooped half-run as he went up the stairs and down a long hall. Here, finally, they left the clamor and press of people behind. There were only three or four women in this region of the castle, quiet and elegant, slipping in and out: of rooms along the hall. But though they were wearing gowns as fine as any Alayna had ever had in her father's house, she guessed they were servants, because some were bearing freshly laundered linens or cut flowers, and because they bowed as Mordred passed.
    Mordred brought her into a large sunlit room where a half dozen women were gathered: One was strumming a gentle tune on a rebec, two were working at a loom and an embroidering frame, one was brushing another's hair, and the last looked up from a book from which she had been reading out loud. The women inclined their heads as Mordred entered, all but the one who was embroidering the tapestry. That one paused, her needle in midair. She was an older woman—at least thirty-five, or maybe even forty years old—but she had a gentle look to her, as her gaze went from Mordred to Alayna.
    Mordred had not shared with Alayna the specifics of his plans. He'd said he would inform King Arthur immediately about what had happened, but now she suddenly realized that—of course—she wouldn't just be let into the council room for an audience with the King. Obviously he was first taking her to the apartments of one of the noblewomen, to be cleaned and tended, bandaged and made presentable.
    Just as she was wondering who this noblewoman was, Alayna noticed that Mordred had inclined his head with deference and waited for a sign to approach, and Alayna knew—just as Mordred said, "Guinevere."
    "Mordred," the Queen greeted him. Without turning around, she said, "Juliana, we have a guest who is in obvious need of succor."
    The young