Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32461 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 162(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Creagan had seen beautiful women before, but the queen was something altogether different.
Her purple gown was elegant without being overly adorned, and everything from the tilt of her chin to the way she held herself seemed intended to remind anyone approaching that this was her hall, her kingdom, and her word that mattered.
She probably intimidated most men, but he wasn’t most men. He found himself wondering how long her dark hair was when she let those braids loose and if anything else loosened within her when she did.
“Your sheep were in his field, Griffin?” Eudora said.
“They wandered there, Your Majesty,” he insisted.
Her brow went up. “For the third time?”
Griffin had a quick excuse. “They favor Milo’s grass.”
Milo snorted. “Your sheep don't know one patch of grass from another.”
“Then they're smarter than you,” Griffin shot back.
Laughter broke out among those waiting.
Creagan chuckled as well.
Torden glanced at him. “You really are enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
“Enough!” The queen’s sharp voice silenced the laughter.
Both farmers immediately turned their attention to her.
Creagan's amusement faded slightly.
“You will repair the fence between your properties,” Eudora ordered.
“My fence is sound,” Griffin protested.
Eudora's violet eyes settled on him. “Then your sheep have learned to fly.”
Creagan laughed again, earning a look from Torden and, this time, one from the queen, though only briefly. But enough time for her to catch his smile.
Her eyes moved on as if dismissing him.
“Together,” Eudora continued, looking between the two farmers. “You will repair the fence together.”
She turned to Milo. “And you will stop encouraging his sheep into your field.”
Milo’s mouth dropped open. “I never—”
“You've been putting salt near the boundary,” the queen accused.
“How did you know?” Milo asked.
“The same way I know your fence has been in need of repair since spring. You've both been complaining about one another to anyone willing to listen for months.”
The two men exchanged sheepish looks.
“You will get the fence repaired together,” Eudora continued. “And if one of those sheep finds its way into the wrong field again, I will have the entire flock brought here to the castle grounds and you can both explain to my cook why they should not become supper.”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” the two men were quick to say and hurried off.
Creagan had expected Eudora to be formidable. Queen Eleanor would never have entrusted Morra Mist to a granddaughter incapable of ruling it. However, he hadn't expected to find her entertaining.
A man standing a short distance from the queen stepped forward and consulted the parchment in his hand.
Creagan rarely came to Dunsire, but he knew who he was even though he had never met him. Wilford, the queen’s advisor.
Wilford looked toward those still waiting.
“Next.”
An elderly woman immediately marched forward dragging a lad, of perhaps twelve years, alongside her by the ear.
Creagan folded his arms across his chest. This promised to be even better than the sheep.
“Let go of the Ewan’s ear, Maggie,” Eudora ordered.
Creagan could not help but be impressed. The queen had known the name of every person who had stood before her. Not merely the chieftains, merchants and men whose names were likely brought before her regularly. She knew her people. Right down to an elderly woman who came before her dragging a troublesome lad by the ear.
Maggie released the lad, though reluctantly. “He deserves worse, Your Majesty.”
“I don't doubt you've already told him so.”
Maggie nodded. “Repeatedly.”
Ewan rubbed his reddened ear but did not speak.
“What have you done this time, Ewan?” Eudora asked.
Ewan shifted from one foot to the other. “I borrowed Grandmum's cart.”
“You stole my cart,” Maggie corrected.
Ewan defended himself. “I borrowed it. Borrowing is not stealing.”
“You did not ask permission. You had it all day and didn’t bring it back until after dark,” Maggie argued.
“I needed it and I knew you wouldn’t let me borrow it,” Ewan said as if it made all the difference.
“You took the mule as well and he was needed for field work.”
Ewan turned wide eyes on her. “What good is a cart without a mule?”
Creagan heard Legion choke back a laugh.
Even Torden's impatience appeared to have deserted him.
Eudora's lips pressed together briefly. “Where did you take the cart, Ewan?”
“To fetch someone.”
“Who?” Eudora asked when the lad didn’t volunteer the name.
Ewan hesitated.
Maggie planted her hands on her hips. “You might as well tell the queen. Her Majesty will get it out of you one way or another.”
That frightened Ewan enough to quickly confess, “Jamie.”
“Why did Jamie require you to steal your grandmother's cart?” Eudora asked.
Ewan hurried to remind her of his innocence. “I didn't steal—”
Eudora raised one eyebrow.
Ewan reconsidered. “He has a broken leg and couldn’t walk.”
Maggie stared at her grandson. “Why?”
Ewan looked at her as if she were daft. “Well, I certainly couldn't carry him.”
The hall erupted in laughter.
“That was not what I meant!” Maggie snapped.
Creagan glanced toward Eudora. For the briefest moment amusement showed in those violet eyes, though she fought hard to keep it from reaching her lips. He liked that. Perhaps there was more beneath that regal exterior than she'd have anyone believe.