Free Shadow Over Avalon by C.N Lesley

bubbled up, one she tried to smother against Uther’s tunic, but he made her look at him. His eyes sparkled with mischief.
    “My bride needs a firm hand, and I’ve let matters ride too long, methinks.” He stooped toward her. “Patience deserves a reward.”
    Ashira turned away at the last moment, embarrassed, causing his lips to land near her ear. “So the man doesn’t rate respect. What of the ruler? Kiss the wicked Dragon Duke, heartless girl. Obey your master.”
    A direct order evoking deliberate authority demanded instant obedience. Caught, Ashira suppressed a shudder, closing her eyes. Uther expected more than a chaste salute. He exacted a slow revenge, tasting her, gentle now that he had won. His aura of power and physical strength sent thrills through her. Ashira earned release after he made her kiss him back. He freed her, laughing. “There’s a promising start. With more practice, you might become quite skilled.”
    Uther’s arrogance and her shame at the betrayal of her own body prompted Ashira to grab the nearest weapons, a handful of pebbles. She threw them at him, one by one, hitting each time.
    “Pax, wild one!” he called, trying to dodge her missiles. “I brought you here for another reason, too. The tide’s low enough now to leave no evidence from our boots. Please Ashira, it’s important.” He wasn’t smiling now.
    She lowered her arm, dropping her remaining stones. Uther took her hand, leading the way around the cliff where it reached the sea. There was a narrow cave entrance out of sight from above and either side, unless a searcher happened upon the opening by chance. The duke drew her in after him until they came to a high protuberance. He reached up to extricate a torch, lighting it with one strike of a flint to reveal a narrow crevice. This led into a small cavern above the highest watermark. A passage continued up into the rock, but Ashira looked to the contents of this place. Sealed jars and other containers lined one wall. They contained supplies and equipment needed to keep body and soul together for about ten days, and then ensure the occupants would be well equipped to survive in the wild.
    “A safety measure my father began. The far tunnel leads out to a small entrance under a bush on the headland.” The light from his torch made dancing patterns on his face. “If there’s a need, go to High Fort. Alsar protects kin.”
    “I’m nothing to him.” Ashira doubted a stranger would lift a hand for her.
    “You’re my duchess. Even if the ceremony was a few brief moments of your father’s trading, it is sufficient. Alsar knows of our union.” Uther started back to the entrance, leaving her little choice but to follow.
    When the pair rode into Tadgell the compound thronged with people circled round one bawling calf. A boneless-looking individual, bald and clothed in a saffron yellow robe that spread like a diseased toadstool, stood by the animal – a priest.
    Ashira’s stomach heaved with a life of its own, and bitter bile flooded her throat. Harvester priests had always evoked disgust from her earliest memories. Her thoughts dragged back to the occasion of her twelfth birthday, when she had received the permanent wristband that marked her status and maturity, that soft, almost oozing touch while the gold band became secured to her for life. She had managed, by some miracle, to clear the inner sanctum before her stomach rebelled with such violence she thought her very innards had spewed forth.
    They all looked alike, those disciples, bland faces, empty eyes, and that walk. Did they have wheels instead of legs under those wide robes? Each priest assumed an invisible mantle of power when performing spiritual rites, but given healing tasks, exhibited the same compassion expected from snakes. They were efficient and effective, it was more the complete detachment setting Ashira’s teeth on an edge.
    The poor little calf looked almost normal. While not an obvious mutation, it