Avelynn by Marissa Campbell Read Free Book Online Page B

followers into small, cramped churches and stuffed them together like rows of gluttonous piglets fighting for a teat. I was grateful to be back out in the open, despite the substantial nip in the air.
    The morning was sullen and gray. A few flurries scurried about in the brisk north wind. November had been just a prelude of what this winter had in store for Wessex. It was, by far, the coldest December I could recall.
    I caught sight of Demas walking out of the nave, and I smoothed down the front of my kirtle. I hadn’t seen him since our first abysmal meeting a month ago, and I wanted to make a good impression.
    I had spent a great deal of time fussing in front of my mirror earlier. I had picked a soft blue kirtle that suited the paleness of my skin and paired it with a deep indigo cloak that set the blue of my eyes sparkling. Near each temple, I had braided a length of hair, tying them together near the nape of my neck with a silk ribbon that matched the pale blue of my dress. Turning and turning, I had tried to gauge the effect from every possible angle. I felt confident that I presented an acceptable image.
    I dropped into a low curtsy. “Good morning, Demas.”
    â€œLady.” He waved his hand in dismissal and continued on his way to the stables.
    Taken aback, I stared at his departing form until he disappeared into the throng of men pressed near the king’s stables. Wulfstan, the Earl of Devon’s son, approached me and bowed gracefully.
    â€œLady Avelynn, you look enchanting this morning.” Honey-blond hair hung in soft curls to his collarbone, framing high cheekbones and deep brown eyes.
    â€œThank you, sir.”
    â€œI hear you’re betrothed.” He looked in the direction of my intended.
    â€œYes, I hear that too,” I said, following his gaze.
    â€œI wish it was I who had stolen your heart.”
    I smiled weakly. He had been one of the most charming and handsome suitors to try to win my hand, and I enjoyed his company … but I never felt that spark of wanting, that fire of passion that I so desperately craved.
    Reflecting on that terse exchange with Demas, I looked somberly at Wulfstan and wondered if my passionate longings and stubbornness were not going to be my undoing.
    He extended his arm, and we walked together toward the stables. The air was alive with anticipation. A hunt had been planned for immediately following the mass. The king; his brother, Alfred; my father; Demas; and all of the noblemen of the court were to take part. There was organized chaos all around as men, stable lads, stewards, and pages readied horses, spears, and swords.
    â€œHow goes the news of the hunt this morning?” I asked.
    â€œSuperbly,” Wulfstan replied. “Just before mass, the huntsman was scouting with his lymer, and the dog sniffed out a most noble quarry. A buck has been found, and the huntsman assured the king it was a hart of ten.” He looked south into the wall of trees that bordered the courtyard, as if trying to discern the accuracy of the statement for himself. “A deer at this time of year is a great prize for any hunting party, but a mature one with ten points on his antlers…” He whistled. “That is game they will tell tales about for generations to come.”
    I suppressed a smile. While a hart of ten was magnificent, it wasn’t rare or impossible. My father had caught one just this spring. But given the general buzz of excitement coursing through the crowd, I gathered all the men considered it a worthy challenge.
    The women were adding their own distinctive touch to the frenzied energy, cooing and flirting until the atmosphere around the royal manor felt more like a Saturnalia festival than a pious Christian one. I caught a glance of Ealhswith doting on Alfred as he made ready to mount his horse. He wore a stunning red jacket with gold embroidery along the edges and a mantle made from the pelt of a bear. He laughed at