Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99593 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 498(@200wpm)___ 398(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
A knock sounded.
He strode to the door and yanked it open, eyes narrowing when he saw Patrick standing there, shoulders tight, face pale beneath the shadow of his hood.
“What is it?” Ryland demanded curtly, resuming the role of Torrance.
“A message for you,” Patrick said.
“Tell me,” Torrance said, his jaw tense and his mind racing with finding Esme.
“Lady Esme went with Breann to meet the Old Woman,” Patrick said quietly, the news meant for Torrance’s ears alone.
Torrance stepped away from the door waving Patrick inside.
“Lady Esme insisted you be told,” Patrick said after closing the door.
“She shouldn’t have gone without me.”
“It’s probably why she went. She knew you wouldn’t let her go.”
“She’s right,” Torrance growled. “I wouldn’t have allowed her to go.”
The silence stretched heavy with tension and worry.
“I am going after her,” Torrance said.
“Is that wise when the Old Woman wants only to speak with Lady Esme?”
“Wise or not, I will not leave her out there alone when men want her dead along with me.”
“You’ll take your warriors?”
“Nay. I don’t know who to trust among them.”
“You can trust me, my lord,” Patrick said with a bob of his head.
“For your sake I hope so,” Torrance warned.
The snow was falling heavier now, blanketing the forest in a thick hush. Esme tugged her cloak tighter around her shoulders, the hood already damp from the wet flakes. She kept close pace with Breann, their boots leaving footprints in the snow that had turned heavy. The occasional snap of brittle twigs was the only sounds between them as they moved deeper among the trees.
“Are you sure my message will reach my husband?” Esme asked, worried what Ryland would think when he found her gone which was why she insisted Breann get a message to him to let him know where she went.
Breann didn’t pause her stride. “It will. I trust the woman I gave it to, and she will see that Patrick delivers it since she would be too fearful to do so herself.”
Esme nodded but unease stirred in her chest. Not fear exactly—but the sense of stepping off a familiar path into something unseen.
Decisions weren’t something she was used to making for herself. Her father ruled any important matters in her life, then Torrance, and now Ryland, though with him it was different. While Ryland might get upset with her hasty decision, she did not have to worry about repercussion and punishment. He loved her and would never be cruel to her. And what she was doing would help them move closer to being free to have a life together, at least she hoped it would.
“What do you know of the Old Woman?” Esme asked, wanting to learn what she could about the woman before meeting her.
Breann slowed, brushing a snow-covered branch aside. “As I mentioned before, I’ve never met her. Few have.”
Esme frowned. “Then how—?”
“Healers pass her messages around and share her wise words. I know only what I’ve heard about her. She has knowledge stretching far beyond most. She has strong opinions, and those who argue with her often regret it.”
They walked a few paces more before Breann added, “It is said she can read a person down to the marrow of their bones. So, if you go to her hoping to fool or flatter, you’d best turn around now.”
Esme blinked against the swirling flakes. “I go to hear what she wishes to tell me.”
“Good.” Breann stopped then, placing a hand on Esme’s arm. “From here, you go alone.”
Esme looked ahead. The woods thickened, trees standing close like silent sentinels, the light dimming beneath their snow-laden boughs.
“Follow the stream,” Breann instructed, pointing to where water still trickled, the air not cold enough to freeze it. “It will lead you to a stone crossing. Go over it, and in the woods beyond, you will find her there.”
Esme hesitated, then nodded. “Thank you. Will you be waiting here for me when I am done?”
“Nay,” Breann said, pulling her cloak tighter around her against the snow. “But your husband probably will be here since this is where Patrick will track us to, though neither man will know where to go from here.”
“You underestimate Torrance,” Esme said, though she meant Ryland, for she was sure Ryland would let nothing stop him from finding her and that thought lessened her worry.
With that, Breann turned and melted back into the snow and trees, leaving Esme to the silence and the path ahead.
The trees thinned just beyond the stone crossing, giving way to a small clearing blanketed in snow. At its center stood a crooked hut, its thatched roof hunched beneath the white weight of winter, a thin line of smoke curling from its chimney. Esme hesitated at the edge of the trees, her breath misting in the cold and her stomach roiling anxiously, then she stepped forward.
The door creaked open before she could knock.