Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Her heart felt heavy and her hand fell away from the tree, the image disappearing. The night was suddenly darker and quieter. The tree had shared its heartfelt worries with her. Its home was being invaded, and it would get worse if the healer wasn’t found.
It was clear what needed to be done, the healer had to be found, or the tale debunked for this madness to end.
She hurried to get done with what brought her into the woods, then she turned back toward camp, the faint orange glow of the fire guiding her. Dar was crouched by the flames, the scent of a fresh fire and pine threading through the air.
He looked up as she approached. “I told you not to stray far.”
“I didn’t,” she said, lowering herself onto a patch of moss beside him. “The woods were kind enough to share their peaceful quiet and I could not help but linger in it.”
The flickering flames glinted in his gray eyes as he studied her for a moment and looked as though he would speak. Then he turned and untied the sack with the food Nell had given them and spread it open between them, cheese, bread, and dried meats for them to enjoy.
She wondered about him as she scooped up a piece of bread. This man who had appeared from out of nowhere and offered to help her. And she had let him or had she a choice since he had claimed he would follow her. Who truly was he? And she continued to wonder if she should trust him.
“You make a fair fire for a wanderer,” she said after finishing the piece of bread.
He smiled faintly, spearing a piece of meat with his dagger. “Cold nights teach quick lessons.”
“And the dagger?” she asked, glancing toward the blade. “Do cold nights teach a man to wield that as well?”
His gaze lifted to meet hers, one brow arching. “A wanderer learns to defend what little he has.”
“Your kind are known for words, not weapons—or so they say.”
“Words don’t help when facing a blade.”
The fire popped softly, and the sound filled the silence between them. Elara lowered her eyes, letting the warmth of the flames soak into her chilled fingers.
“I’ve heard wanderers can spin a lie so fine, it sounds like truth,” she said, her tone not judgmental only edged with curiosity. “You don’t seem one for stories.”
He leaned forward slightly. “Truth is easier to remember.”
She looked up again, the firelight flickering across his face, softening the sharpness of his handsome features. “And what truth do you remember, Dar?”
A muscle worked in his jaw before he answered. “That trust is a dangerous thing.”
Her lips curved faintly. “For whom?”
“For anyone.”
The corner of her mouth lifted, though her eyes softened with something like understanding. “On that we agree.”
He watched her a moment longer, and the silence grew heavy again, though not uncomfortable. There was something in the way she held herself with quiet strength and then there was her beauty, unlike most. Maybe it was the way silver strands fell loose from her braid to whisper along her cheeks or the way her cheeks grew rosy from the heat of the fire, or how her slim lips hid until she spoke then seemed to plump with pleasure, ready to be kissed.
He nearly shook his head at the crazy thought. He had to be mad to think of her in any other way than he needed to. Thinking of pleasure with her would do him no good.
He forced his thoughts elsewhere. “You should rest. I’ll take first watch.”
“I’m no child in need of guarding.”
“Nay,” he agreed. “But you seem to walk toward trouble instead of away from it. Someone ought to keep an eye on that.”
Her breath caught slightly, not from offense but from the warmth beneath the words. She looked into the fire again, unwilling to meet his eyes. “And who keeps an eye on you, wanderer?”
He hesitated, then gave a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
Elara had no doubt of that, and the thought brought her a degree of safety. He could protect her if necessary and instinctively she knew he would.
The flames crackled softly. Elara pulled her cloak closer, feeling a strange calm settle over her. She shouldn’t trust him. She knew better. He was, after all, a stranger to her. Maybe it was the warmth of the fire, or the sense of safety she felt around him, or the way her heart beat just a bit faster when he took hold of her hand or held her close. Or maybe it was a knowing that she couldn’t ignore, a knowing that he would do her no harm.
He watched her a little longer, then turned his gaze to the dark trees beyond the camp. “Try to sleep, Elara. We set a swift pace tomorrow.”