Free Surrender by Rhiannon Paille Page A

face was like glass, her piercing brown eyes glaring at Desaunius.
    She eyed the woman scrupulously as she brought the horse round to the pavilion in the center of the courtyard.
    “Ahdunie,” the woman said with a sly smile. She sounded almost mocking.
    Desaunius recognized the familiar sound of the ancient tongue of Avristar. “Ahdunie,” she replied. She pulled her eyebrows down and let her hand slip off the reins. Even in the blue and silver embroidered gown anyone should have recognized her. Desaunius thought she knew everyone residing at the Elmare castle. There weren’t many of them.
    “Oh bother!” the woman shrieked, throwing her hands up in disgust. She crossed her arms and remained leaning against the arch to the Grand Hall. “I assume you expect me to take that infernal thing to the stables?”
    “Where is Melianna?” Desaunius snapped, offended. Melianna was Lady Atara’s servant, studious and prompt. Desaunius was perturbed by whoever the woman was and why she was trespassing in Orlondir. She didn’t have a chance to ask as the woman retreated across the marble of the Grand Hall and disappeared. Several moments later, someone appeared behind Desaunius and almost made her jump.
    “I’ll take the horse now,” Melianna said as her hands slid over the reins. “You came to see Lady Atara?”
    Desaunius glanced at her as she rounded the horse, mousy brown hair blowing in the breeze. “Yes, I have something to discuss with her.” She sucked in a breath as she recalled the words of the Great Oak. Memories of the First Era flitted through her mind, but she quelled them. It had been centuries since the wrath of Valtanyana; war wasn’t something to fear. She coughed as a means of clearing her mind. Melianna held out her hand towards the Grand Hall.
    “She’s in the study in the lower west wing. Do you wish me to escort you?”
    Desaunius shook her head. She had been to the lady’s study enough times to know where it was, and the lay of the castle was rather easy to remember. Melianna softly clucked as she led the horse across the courtyard towards the stables. Desaunius didn’t waste time as she glided across the marble and ducked under the archway to the lower west wing. She passed the lavatory and took a left when the corridor reached a dead end. At the end of the hall, with its burgundy carpets and crystal torches along the glowing stone walls, was Lady Atara’s study. She knocked on the polished wood and waited.
    It slid open a crack and Desaunius pushed herself into the room. The door closed behind her. There was an atrium behind the door, then an arch, and then the room opened into a large cavern with a high ceiling. There was a window that looked out to the courtyard on the far side, a bureau to the right with a mirror, and on the left was a fireplace. The logs snapped and crackled within. There was an altar along the back wall and colorful pillows arranged in various areas for sitting.
    Atara sat on the wide windowsill, an ivory knitted shawl pulled across her shoulders, her hazel eyes focused on the courtyard. Auburn hair flowed down her back, so shiny it glimmered in the pale light of the room. She wore a rose-colored dress that fell to her ankles, her feet bare. Desaunius cleared her throat and Atara glanced at her, a lazy expression on her face.
    “You came without a messenger,” she said as she dropped her knees off the windowsill and pushed herself gingerly to her feet. She was much taller than Desaunius, at least by a head, if not more. She wandered over to the bureau and pulled out a drawer, lighting a stick of incense with her fingers and placing it in a holder in front of the mirror.
    Desaunius glared at her. “I had no time to send a messenger. And you don’t look busy.”
    Atara hummed thoughtfully and put her hands together. “No, I’m not occupied.”
    “Then you have time to listen to my dilemma,” Desaunius said.
    Atara stretched her hand towards a cluster of pillows.