Read Across the Long Sea for Free Online

away to foster.
    He refused. The teeth of the gate whispered against his curls. Liam clattered after, swearing under his breath. The outer gate swung silently shut behind them.
    The bailey was cool and still, wind blocked away by rose-­covered walls. The smithy was shrouded in black silk, and the small specials market closed and shuttered. Selkirk was in mourning.
    â€œPennant’s still flying, my lord.” Liam pointed at the tower spire, at the Rose on blue and gold.
    Mal swung out of the saddle, shells crunching beneath the soles of his sandals. He looped reins over the gelding’s ears, handed them to the young lad who popped around the silk of the equally shrouded stables.
    â€œMy mam’s stubborn,” Mal replied. “She’ll lower the colors for naught but the king. Death is only a wrinkle in the very long history of Serranos in Selkirk, easily ironed out.”
    â€œYes, my lord,” Liam said doubtfully. He followed Mal up three graystone steps. The two guardsmen at the door stood proper attention as Mal approached. They bowed, then together let the door swing wide.
    Mal took a deep breath of salt air. He straightened his spine, and stepped into the tower. He recognized the housecarl waiting just inside the small foyer, and summoned a smile.
    â€œShannon.” Mal held out a hand. “It’s good to see you.”
    Shannon Biaz bowed over Mal’s fingers, curling his extraordinary height to Mal’s slight stature, gaze lingering on yellow gem in true gold. His wide mouth curled.
    â€œLord Vocent,” he said. “Welcome home.” Biaz gestured, and two housemen materialized, relieving Mal and Liam of their packs. “Would you like to freshen up, my lord, or . . .?”
    â€œIs she in the temple?”
    â€œYes, my lord.”
    â€œHow long?”
    Biaz’s brown face was wrinkled, his close-­cropped hair gray. He’d been very young for a carl when he’d been appointed to the position by Mal’s father, but he’d always been very good at his job, a trusted friend and servant. It had been Biaz who’d first taught Mal the name of Selkirk’s trading ships, the history of those lost and those still in ser­vice, and Biaz who’d bent a knee to his old lord and spoken quietly in Mal’s defense after his older brother Rowan’s death.
    â€œJust this morning, my lord,” Biaz replied. He let go Mal’s fingers. “It was quick, at the end, if unlucky. A hook-­jab gone putrid, my lord, and himself all unawares.”
    Mal doubted his father had ever been unaware of anything under his roof, but he nodded. He turned to Liam, found the boy staring wide-­eyed at the tall bone candleholders clustered in artistic groupings along the wall. Flames danced in thick tallow candles, lighting flagstones and wall tapestries.
    â€œSerpents,” Liam said, nodding at the bones. “Didn’t I say, my lord?”
    â€œWhale,” Mal corrected. “And sea cow. Biaz, this is my page. Liam, Biaz will show you to my room. Unpack and stay out of trouble. I’ll find you later.”
    â€œBut, my lord,” Liam protested, scowling. “I don’t think—­I mean, I’d best come along, my lord. You’ll have need of me.”
    â€œNo,” Mal replied, then regretted the abrupt dismissal when Liam’s face fell.
    Biaz clapped Liam on the shoulder.
    â€œCome with me, lad,” the housecarl said. “Your lord has need of comfortable rooms, a nice fire, and supper waiting when he returns. We can do that, canna we? And you’ll show me how he likes his things hung and stowed.”
    â€œGo, Liam,” Mal said, more gently. “I’ll return once my duty’s done.”
    The wrinkle above Liam’s nose smoothed. Biaz nodded, steering the boy toward the tower staircase, towing the housemen and their burdens in his wake. The housecarl glanced back once. He nodded