Winter Moon by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online

about her situation, and perhaps do something about it.
    Or at least, so she hoped.
    When the wine came in, after the sweet course, and all but the highest-ranked men in the keep departed for their duties or their beds, Moira rose asher father had probably expected her to do, and made the formal request to retire “with her ladies.” She didn’t have any ladies, of course, but that was the traditional phrase, and her father, deep in some conversation with Massid and his captains about horses, absently waved his permission.
    She left the hall without a backward glance, although once again she felt Massid’s eyes on her until the moment she left the room.
    And it was all she could do not to run.
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    Back in her chambers, after Anatha had helped her disrobe and she had gotten into bed, she stared up at the darkness beneath the canopy of the huge bed with only the firelight, winking through the places where the bed curtains hadn’t quite closed, for illumination. She needed to calm her mind, or she wouldn’t be able to think.
    She heard the distant sounds of walking, but nothing nearby, so at least there wasn’t a guard on her door. Obviously her father didn’t expect her to do anything that an ordinary lady of the sort he’d been marrying wouldn’t do—such as go roaming the halls seeing what she could overhear.
    Not yet. I want to save that for when I need to do it.
    First, above all else, she needed to get word to the Countess—and thus, the King—of Massid’s presence here.
    That wouldn’t be as difficult as getting detailed information out. She did have a way to do that immediately, though she’d hoped not to have to use it.Unfortunately, the communication would be strictly one-way; unless the Countess in her turn found a way to get a messenger to physically contact Moira, there would be no way that she could get any advice from her mentor.
    She closed her eyes, and tried to reckon how likely that would be, and could only arrive at one conclusion: swine would be swooping among the gulls first. With the Prince of Jendara here, Lord Ferson would be making very sure that no one traveled into or out of his realm without his express knowledge and permission, and that would only be given to those whose loyalty he could either trust or compel. In past years, once past All Hallows’ Eve—and that night had come and gone while she was en route—there had never been so much as a hint of traveling entertainers or peddlers. It wasn’t just that the winter weather along the coast was harsh—which it was. Once winter truly closed in, the forest between the sea-keep and the rest of civilization became dangerous with storms and hungry wild animals. It wasn’t worth the risk for an uncertain welcome at a place where, if you were truly unfortunate, you could be trapped until spring came. Any so-called minstrel or peddler who showed his face now would simply not be permitted past the gates at the top of the cliff, because her father would be sure he was a spy.
    So she was on her own, here.
    Given that, what were her possible choices?
    It had been a long time since she had lived here, but some knowledge never completely faded. Therewas a sound in the waves below that warned that she—and the Prince—had only just arrived ahead of the bad weather. Storms far out to sea sent echoes of their anger racing ahead of them in the form of surging waves, and anyone who lived at a sea-keep learned to read those waves. So, the prince would be here till spring, whether or not he had planned to be.
    The first of her options that came to mind was the most obvious. Marry the Prince. She ignored the finger of cold that traced its way down her spine at that thought, and she looked that choice squarely in the face.
    She could marry the Prince, in obedience to her father. Then what?
    Well, the Jendarans did not have a very good reputation when it came to treating