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)
Sadness washed over her when she expected relief that he understood and agreed. She was wise in realizing it and yet it hurt her heart to accept it. She had to guard against her feelings for him, not let them root more deeply and grow, for they would never bloom.
Rest was something she could use after the long day, but as for the food, she didn’t know if she could take a bite. Her grumbling stomach let her know it thought differently.
Dar laughed hearing it, glad for the distraction from the kiss that he hadn’t wanted to end but knew it was better that it did. She was right. They had no future together. So why did that irritate him so much?
He waved her toward the table. “Come, wife, and let us fill our bellies, then rest, for tomorrow holds no promise of either.”
Night fell and the village fell silent. A faint wind sighed against the shutters, carrying the scent of woodsmoke and rain. The hearth burned strong, keeping the room heated nicely.
Elara lay beneath the blanket on her side staring at Dar where he sat with his back against the door, cloak drawn around him, his head tilted back against the wood. The firelight touched the sharp line of his jaw, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
“You needn’t sit there all night,” she murmured.
“Aye, I do,” he said quietly. “You’ve a way of finding trouble even in kindness.”
She smiled faintly into the darkness. “You make that sound like a fault.”
“It’s a dangerous gift,” he said, eyes half-closed. “But I suppose I’d rather guard it than see it lost.”
The warmth in his tone startled her, and for a moment neither spoke. The only sound was the pop of the fire and the distant cry of an owl.
Sleep began to pull at her, slow and heavy until it finally claimed her.
He sat, his eyes fixed on the flames until they burned low. When at last he turned his head to look at her, he found her sleeping soundly, her silver hair spilling over the pillow like moonlight.
He let out a short breath before he whispered, “You have unleashed something in me, woman, something I don’t know if I will be able to contain.”
Then he leaned his head back against the door, nodding off into a light sleep.
Chapter Ten
Village of Barloch
Beneath Caerith’s Shadow
* * *
They crossed the narrow bridge that spanned the stream and entered Barloch. A few villagers paused their work to watch them pass, more curious than cautious. Chickens scattered from the road, and a cart creaked by, drawn by a single mule whose harness jingled softly in the still air.
The inn stood near the square, its weathered sign creaking on its hook. A faint scent of wood smoke drifted through the open doorway along with the murmur of voices and the clatter of mugs.
Dar dismounted first, tying the horse to a post. He turned to Elara, reaching to take her by the waist and lift her off the horse.
Once on her feet, he leaned his head low and warned, “Keep your hood up and your tongue still.”
She nodded and followed alongside him.
Inside, the air was thick with warmth and the tang of ale. A half-dozen men sat at rough-hewn tables, their talk dropping to a murmur when Dar and Elara entered. Eyes followed them, this time more cautious than curious.
Dar took hold of her arm, as if to let all know she belonged to him, as he guided her toward a table in the corner.
“Wait here. I’ll see to the horses and our lodging.”
His tone left no room for question, so Elara sat, drawing her cloak close. She watched him approach the counter where the innkeeper stood, a broad man with thinning hair, a beard streaked gray, and a skeptical look in his eyes. The two spoke quietly, the innkeeper’s brow lifting as he leaned forward as if their exchange was meant to stay private. Dar did most of the talking until the innkeeper nodded quickly, before gesturing toward the stairs that led to the rooms above.
When Dar turned back, Elara noticed how the others in the room shifted, their eyes following him. A few exchanged glances she couldn’t read, part recognition, part wariness, as though they knew him or perhaps knew of him.
He moved easily, unbothered by the stares, and yet there was something in his gait, a confidence edged with caution that made her wonder if he was no stranger to this place.
He dropped down on the bench across from her, his cloak falling open, the firelight catching the faint sheen of his dagger’s hilt. “We’ve a room for the night and a stall for the horses.”
“It is a good thing we have coin now,” she said, and he nodded, silence settling between them as they both scanned the room.