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)
“Da.”
No bow. No hesitation. Just the solid clasping of forearms between two men who understood strength in silence.
Chieftain Cadmus looked as though he had been carved from the very stones of Venngraith—strong, weathered, immovable. But the moment his gaze shifted to Elara, he blinked, surprised.
“And this lass?” he asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “She is a beauty.”
Heat rushed to Elara’s cheeks. She slid from the horse carefully, Dar going to her and steadying her waist with a gentle hand.
“This is Elara of the village of Cramond in Leighfeld,” he said. “My wife.”
Cadmus’s eyes flicked between them, sharp with assessment.
Elara kept her chin lifted, though her heart fluttered wildly.
“Welcome to Falkrith, Elara, my new daughter,” Cadmus said at last. “The hearth of Venngraith is yours now.”
His words were polite but the scrutiny behind them left her wondering if he meant them. Though having her thrust upon him unexpectedly would give him pause to wonder how their marriage came about.
“I have a message for you from the king,” Dar said.
Cadmus’s gaze lingered a heartbeat longer on Elara before he turned to his son.
“I should hear it right away,” his da said. “Settle your wife. I will wait for you in my private room in the longhouse.” He gave a quick glance to Elara. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
Elara turned to Dar. “Does he mean that?”
“The one thing you should know about my da is that he always says what he means. There is never any guessing with him. He always speaks truthfully. Now come,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “You can wait in your new home.”
New home. The idea that this was where she might remain for the rest of her life sent a worry through her. But she retained her composure and walked alongside him.
The cottage sat apart from the others, larger and closer to the woods. Its stone walls were darkened with age and ivy crept around one of the two windows. No garden welcomed alongside it, though smoke curled from the chimney as if expecting someone.
“Our home,” Dar said when they reached the thick wooden door and opened it, then moved aside for her to enter.
Elara’s pulse fluttered at the thought of stepping inside, feeling that once she did, she committed to being his wife fully and forever.
Dar felt her unease, understood it, but he wanted her to take that step, a step toward commitment, a step toward sharing a life with him since he didn’t intend on ever letting her go.
She entered with a quick step just past the door.
Dar remained by the open door and spoke quickly. “Warm yourself. I will have food sent to you, and I will return as soon as I can.” He shut the door, giving her no chance to respond.
Elara stood where he left her for a moment longer, then hurried to the door, her hand grasping the latch. She thought to leave, to run, but logic quickly surfaced. It wasn’t only marriage that brought her here but a mission. The healers were depending on her. War loomed and the king knew about her ability to see things before they happened. She truly had no choice. She had to accept her marriage to Dar. He was the only one who could keep her safe. She was fighting the inevitable. Hadn’t her visions shown her that?
Elara sighed and rested her brow against the door for a moment, doing her best to accept what already was ordained. Then she turned and gazed around her new home.
Warmth wrapped around her at once, the scent of woodsmoke, leather, and something clean and familiar, like dried herbs hung to cure. The space was simple but solid. A long table scarred with use. A hearth built wide and deep, its fire banked low but steady. Weapons hung neatly along one wall, polished and cared for, not displayed for pride but readiness. And everywhere were signs of a man who lived alone yet not carelessly.
A folded blanket lay over the back of a chair. A pair of boots rested by the hearth, cleaned and oiled. A shelf held crocks and baskets.
She moved slowly, respectfully, not wanting to intrude, but curious.
Her gaze caught on a sizeable bed tucked into an alcove, covered with dark wool and a single fur thrown across it. She realized it then. This was the bed in her visions. This was where they made love and where she felt at peace.
A knock on the door had her moving aside to open it.
“Food, mistress,” a servant lass said with a bob of her head, and a platter in her hand. She and two other servants hurried in to set a generous amount of food on the table along with pitchers of wine and cider.
They left without another word and Elara removed her cloak and hung it near the door, then went to the hearth and crouched down to coax the fire higher. Sparks leapt, bright and alive and quickly added more warmth to the room.