Shana Abe Read Free Page A

graceful circle about her hips. The jeweled ruby tips of it settled into the folds of her skirt. Adara stood up without answering the question, and went to retrieve the golden net to bind Solange’s hair.
    “Have I done aught to offend you, Adara? Have I been cruel or unjust and not known?”
    Her hair was bundled quickly into the net, twisted painfully tight against her neck. She dipped her head and touched the back of it, following the diamond-shaped contours of the delicate metal with her fingers. Her eyes found Adara’s in the glass.
    The maid shook her head, lips compressed. Solange decided to press on. “Have I offended any of the other serfs, then?”
    “Nay, lady, where do ye get such talk?” She hurried on, before Solange could answer. “Supper is yet, milady. Ye ought to be below stairs by now.”
    Adara bobbed a brief curtsy, then turned and rushedout of the chamber. Solange sighed, used to this reaction. She made a face at herself in the glass.
    “No doubt you are some monstrous, ugly devil,” she whispered to the reflection, “designed to frighten old women and little babies.”
    But then, why would Damon kiss her?
    “Because you asked him to, foolish girl,” she replied to herself. Obviously he would never have kissed her on his own. She had practically thrown herself at him. He must have been perfectly appalled.
    Damon, her love.
    Damon, with hair of raven’s-wing ebony, the color that held all the rainbows in the world under sunlight.
    Damon, with dark brown eyes so immeasurably beautiful that she knew in them all the mysteries of the stars could be revealed to her if she searched deep enough.
    Damon, who had abruptly stopped her kisses, wanting no more of her.
    But she had so much more to offer.
    The intensity of his embrace had overwhelmed her. She had been waiting for it for such a long time, countless eternities. When it had finally happened, when he had finally enfolded her in his arms in a way that told her he thought of her as more than just a sister, her joy had flowed out of her heart to form silent tears down her face. That moment had been the happiest she could ever remember.
    But that was over. Now she must set her mind to go about wooing him all over again. She had to salvage things.
    Solange tugged despondently at the net in her hair,then swept her skirts up in her hands, testing their weight. Too heavy to do anything that was not practical, like running or climbing. The older she became, it seemed, the heavier her clothing. She sighed and left her chambers to begin her plans to win Damon back.
    The castle at night was a magnificent sight. Torches and braziers illuminated the meticulously embroidered tapestries which were the result of generations of noblewomen’s stitches. The dancing shadows all around her reminded Solange of pleasant, unexpected things, like the taste of honeysuckle or the scent of autumn. Although drafty and damp as all castles were, Ironstag was placed on the trailing edge of a forest, which meant there were always plenty of fires burning to take away the chill.
    The furniture, cloth, jewelry, and plate her father provided were all of the best quality. Some were handed down from pillaging ancestors, some he had obtained through careful maintenance of the harvest and trade of his crops and wool. His lands were fertile and extensive. He was often a favorite of the king’s at tax time.
    The Marquess of Ironstag lived well, and when he chose to entertain, he did so lavishly. The finest spices available from merchant traders were plentiful in his kitchens, obtained on yearly trips to London and Dover: from caskets of ginger and saffron to precious bundles of dried tea leaves from the Orient.
    Everything about Ironstag was designed to impress.
    Solange rounded the corner of the main staircase, then stopped. Below her the serfs bustled in an unusualfrenzy of activity, and again she felt that sense of unease. No company was expected that she knew of. The usual group of