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)
She lifted her chin despite the trembling in her chest. “I belong to no man’s control.”
A spark of amusement flared in the king’s eyes. “You are your husband’s servant.”
Anger mounted in Elara and the hall felt as if it tightened around her. The air thickened. Even Feena’s breath sounded ragged beside her.
Elara held herself steady though she trembled inside. “I am no one’s servant, not now, not ever.”
Anger knotted the king’s brow. “You defy me?”
Dar tugged at Elara’s hand, forcing her against him. “Nay, my lord, Elara will be a good wife.”
“Obedient,” the king corrected. “She will be an obedient wife.”
Dar actually smiled, to Elara’s dismay.
“Elara knows well about obedience, my king.”
The king turned to Elara and snapped, “Do you, Elara? Do you know how to be obedient to your husband?”
Elara opened her mouth to snap back but feeling a squeeze to her hand was warning enough to give a second thought to her words. Dar never said she was obedient. He said she knew well about obedience and with a smile, which meant he knew full well she would never be an obedient wife, blind to all else but her husband. He also knew the wisdom of not openly defying the king.
“Aye, my lord… though with reluctance,” she quickly added.
“A truthful wife, a rarity for sure,” the king said, staring at her intensely in silence for a moment before turning away.
Elara thought then how difficult it must be for him to trust anyone, everyone wanting to remain in his favor out of fear or sheer greed for what he could give them. It had to be a lonely existence.
Tavish stepped forward with a leather-bound book in hand, its thick pages worn with years of recorded unions, births, and deaths. He set it on one of the tables and opened it, then let two iron bands with the symbol X, that claimed a couple as husband and wife, embedded into it, spill from his hand onto the table. A quill and ink pot were laid by him, and he looked at the king and gave a nod.
“Step forward,” the king commanded.
Elara hesitated, a breath too long, but it didn’t matter since Dar brought her along with him as he did as ordered, keeping her hand firmly in his.
She was trying to comprehend what was happening, but it all felt too surreal like a vision when she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. She suddenly understood her vision of the iron band on her finger, knowing they were wed, and feeling upset about it. It wasn’t her choice.
“Raise your joined hands,” the king ordered once they stood in front of them and Dar didn’t hesitate to offer their joined hands. He placed his hand briefly atop theirs, sealing the hold with a cold weight. “By my word as King of Scotara, you are wed—bound before throne, law, and fate itself. No claim shall challenge this union.” His hand lifted and took the iron bands Tavish handed to him. “Slip these on each other’s fingers,” he ordered, handing one to each of them, “binding you together for life.”
Dar slipped the iron band on Elara’s finger first, then Elara slipped one on his finger and briefly, a mere flash in her mind, saw them smiling, hugging, content, and she wondered if it was a vision to let her know all would be well or was it simply what she hoped would be their future together?
“Record it, Tavish,” the king commanded.
Tavish lowered his quill to the book, scratching swiftly.
Elara felt the moment fix itself in ink, irreversible, final, and her eyes met Dar’s. She saw no regret, only relief. He had kept his word to her to keep her safe.
“NOW,” the king called out, the word striking like a hammer, “we will see whether this healer”—his gaze went to Feena—“possesses skill worthy of my interest.”
Feena’s breath hitched and fear widened her eyes.
Adira froze, seeing Feena’s frightened expression and clung more tightly to her arm.
The king moved before anyone could speak and seized Adira by the arm and ripped her away from the old woman.
Feena cried out, “My king, nay! Please, nay!” She rushed forward, reaching out to grab Adira away from him, but Muir caught her arm roughly, dragging her back.
“Nay!” Elara lunged forward, tearing her hand out of Dar’s, but his arm shot out, catching her around the middle and pulling her firmly against him.
“Don’t, Elara,” he warned, his voice low but urgent.
His hold was too tight to break free, and Elara froze when she saw the blade, a sharp, gleaming curve of steel drawn from the king’s belt with slow deliberation.
Adira’s eyes went wide, so wide the whites showed all around the trembling green. She opened her mouth in a silent scream.
“Nay!” Feena sobbed.
The king ignored her.
With a swift, practiced motion, he sliced Adira’s forearm. Blood welled instantly, bright and terrible against her pale skin.