ÆVA The Wild by Claire Marion

Author:Claire Marion
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Medieval
Published: 2020-03-31T16:00:00+00:00

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Exactly a week later, Æva woke alone to the sound of raindrops falling. She no longer reached across the bed for Bayan. She knew he would be gone, the slight depression where he had lain bereft of his body heat.

Æva rolled to the side, pulling herself upright, her bare feet touching the rough rug on the floor as she crossed to the small window. The damp of the rain outside seemed to leech through the wooden shutters to chill the air. She pushed them open and inhaled deeply, smiling at the smell of autumn that rose up, disturbed by the plummeting raindrops. The world beyond her window was a murky landscape of greys and brown, sandy dirt roads soaked to soft muck; the leaves on the trees fading from vivid green to burned russet and gold. The sky was leaden, full of the downpours that had fallen for three days straight. Æva had heard servants say the foul weather was an omen, a sign from the Gods. She’d roller her eyes at their Pagan nonsense, but as the preparations had progressed, the rain had continued to fall.

A knock at the door made her turn. Lora bustled in, her woollen shift already covered by a thicker, dark grey cloak.

“Have you breakfasted, My Lady?” she asked, her eyes darting to the tray Æva had not yet noticed. She pursed her lips as she took in the untouched food. “You must eat,” she told Æva, “It will be a long day.”

“Am I so late up?” Æva asked. The thick clouds hid her only way of telling the time.

“No, it is early,” Lora shook her head. “But the soldiers have already set off and his Lordship is anxious we leave as soon as the supplies wagons are ready.”

“Bayan is still here?” Æva asked, her voice eager. Her face fell as Lora shook her head, and she looked away so she didn’t have to see the pity in the handmaiden’s eyes.

“No, My Lady, he left before dawn with the first of the soldiers.”

Æva had been about to bite into a large chunk of bread, her stomach growling, but suddenly she had lost her appetite. Instead, she hurried to dress, wanting to hide her face from Lora’s watchful eyes.

On top of her dress she added a travelling cloak, hers much finer than Lora’s, made of deep green and embroidered around the edge with a thin strip of patterned silk that Æva had woven herself during her many hours of boredom.

“You are ready to go?” Lora asked, relieved. Æva nodded, eager to be leaving this room behind. She followed Lora down the corridor and across the Great Hall, where servants still rushed to and fro, carrying heavy bundles out onto the small platform. At the top of the steps she paused. The sight before her was incredible to behold.

The square was packed with wagons and saddled horses awaiting their charges. Each wagon had been filled with barrels, chests, large pots and urns, sacks and wooden boxes. Beyond

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