Free Dragon's Child by M. K. Hume

less than nothing to Artorex, except for the change of seasons, the foaling, and the tasks of supervising a large and profitable farm. He would have been content with what he held, were it not for rumblings from the east.
    One autumn day, a ragged woman came walking slowly up the road from Aquae Sulis. Her shoulders were bowed with weariness and her hands and feet were wrapped in makeshift mittens of rags. Her age was indeterminate inside the shadow of her hooded cloak
    Seated high above her on his horse, Artorex greeted the beggar on the rutted track that led up to the Villa Poppinidii.
    ‘Master,’ the woman lowered her head. ‘The nights grow cold for a friendless wanderer. May I sleep in your barn before I continue my journey to the north? I will work for my keep.’
    What one so ragged and weary could do in recompense for shelter defied Artorex’s logical mind, but the nights were unseasonably cold and he didn’t wish her death on his conscience.
    ‘Welcome then, mother. Villa Poppinidii can always find a little extra food and somewhere for a stranger to rest.’
    Artorex missed the flash of a pair of midnight-blue eyes, as she bowed her head once more in submissive gratitude, for he hadn’t yet learned the full measure of women.
    ‘When you reach the villa, you’ll find Cletus, the steward, at the kitchens. You may tell him I’ve given you leave to stay one night, and he’ll see to your needs.’
    ‘And who do I say sent me, young master?’
    ‘Artorex, foster-son to Lord Ector.’
    The woman slowly bowed, as if her spine pained her.
    As soon as she trudged away, Artorex forgot her entirely.
    That evening, as the family sat down to dinner and Artorex began to supervise the serving of a simple repast, the woman came to him once more. She was now swathed in black, obviously her best clothing which she had carried in a sack during her journey.
    ‘Master, I tell fortunes and carry news of the world. Would Lord Ector and his noble family desire a little entertainment?’
    ‘I’ll ask them,’ Artorex replied doubtfully. The ragged beggar appeared to be younger than he’d first thought, although most of her face was still concealed by the shadow of her hood.
    While Ector and Caius were uninterested in fortune telling or women’s stories, Livinia chose to be charmed by the offer of amusement and, with a quick glance at Julanna’s pallid face, she decided that the child might be entertained as well.
    ‘Yes, Artorex,’ she replied imperiously from her couch, for Livinia was the master of the Villa Poppinidii in all but name. ‘You may send the wise woman in to us.’
    For reasons that Artorex did not understand, the black-clad woman caused frissons of fear in him and raised the hair on his arms. He ushered her into the family’s presence and then stood against the pillar of the doorway.
    ‘What is your name, wise woman?’ Livinia asked, with her usual bland courtesy.
    The woman raised her head and lowered the cowl that had concealed her face. ‘I’m called Morgan, my lady,’ she replied evenly.
    Even Caius, bored and slightly hung-over after a day with his friends, was disposed to stare at the wise woman. He felt his loins harden as her knowing eyes slid over his body.
    Morgan was not old, nor even middle-aged; she was beautiful and timeless in the light of the wall sconces. But it was a beauty that both attracted and repelled. Artorex was immediately reminded of Targo’s tale of the Scythian woman and he decided, prudently, to watch her movements very carefully.
    Her hair was midnight-black with a long streak of snow that started at her right temple and ran the full length of her head. Her eyes were blue-black and strange, for they sucked in the light and allowed nothing to escape. Her mouth was full-lipped and promised delicious, forbidden pleasures.
    Carefully, she removed a silver mirror, a long band of pale, baby-soft leather and a handful of knucklebones from within her robe.
    Even Ector leaned