Read Avelynn: The Edge of Faith for Free Online

cure for what ails.” He resumed his purpose, passing the stone and my unladylike state, his sturdy build managing the incline with little effort.
    I looked back the way I had come. That vision, or dream, or whatever it was had shaken me. Perhaps it would be best to get back to Alrik.
    “I have sweet cakes and strong mead.” He called over his shoulder.
    My stomach growled. I had hardly eaten since I’d broken my fast that morning, and it had been little more than dried bread and some wine. That fact alone was enough to make me consider following him. I didn’t normally have much in common with Christian priests, but the longing to share company with another Saxon overwhelmed me, so I ambled after him.
    He was a solid man, his height and carriage belying that of a warrior, possibly even a nobleman. His copper hair, untouched by the typical tonsure, framed the healthy glow of a man who lived well despite the visage of his austere vocation.
    By the time I caught up, my lungs wheezed for air.
    He chuckled. “Not a trifle of a hike, is it.”
    “No,” I managed.
    He held the door open for me to enter and tucked the key to the lock in the satchel at his waist.
    “What brings you to Wales?” he asked.
    “I’ve only recently landed, but I mean to leave as soon as possible.”
    “Heading back home, then?”
    “No.”
    He stopped to study me. “Care to talk about it? Unburden your soul?”
    “I’m not sure you have enough mead.”
    He laughed, his eyes twinkling. “Sounds like a long story.”
    My silence spoke for me.
    His lips tightened into a thin line. “You are far too young for such melancholy. Come.”
    He entered a narrow door off to the side of the nave. Inside looked more like an afterthought than a room with purpose, but Eadfrith had managed to eke out space for himself amidst the clutter. A small cauldron hung over a raised hearth, and a bench sat beneath a large wooden cross. Crates, boxes, urns, and parchment were crammed against the walls. The room made me think of Father Plegmund back in Wedmore. I missed home.
    With a seasoned flourish, Eadfrith set a cloth on the bench and retrieved two wooden mugs from atop a small cask. He ladled out the golden syrup until both mugs nearly spilled and then placed them on the thick-grained wood. He pulled a bundle from his satchel, his brown eyes alight.
    “Put my best honey into these.” He placed one of the cakes on the cloth in front of me. “Please.” He motioned to the rushes underfoot, and I sat, crossing my legs. He joined me with an audible crack of his knees and a delighted groan. “It’s nice to be off my feet.”
    He lifted one of the cakes, inhaling deeply before taking a large bite. Half the cake disappeared into his mouth. I watched as he chewed, his eyes closed in repletion.
    I couldn’t stop the corners of my mouth from lifting.
    The little lump in his throat bobbed as he finally swallowed. He flashed me an impish smile, all the more fetching for dimples. “Ambrosia.” He finished the halves in rapid succession.
    I laughed, despite myself.
    He pointed at the bench. “Please. Enjoy.”
    He swilled the mug full of mead. Clearly, his appreciation also applied to drink.
    I picked up the cake and, like Eadfrith, devoured it in short order. Caramelized honey, sticky and sweet, stuck to my teeth as the moist loaf dissolved on my tongue. “That was incredible.” I looked upon the monk with renewed respect.
    “A man can have many talents. Beekeeping and baking are only a few of mine.” He refilled his mug, topping off mine in the process. “Now tell me, what has caused your downcast mood on such a fine day?”
    Outside, clouds sailed by, the wind a constant whistle through the cracks in the stone walls. But the rain held off, so I took him at his word that this embodied a fine day for Wales.
    How should I begin? “A series of difficult events has arisen, the outcome of which has landed me here, surrounded by strangers, and I’ve yet to