Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 350(@300wpm)
“And what will you do with her when you catch her?”
“That depends on how long the war with her lasts,” Dravic said and hurriedly shook a finger at Tavish as soon as he grinned. “Do not dare laugh. This is war and I do not intend to be defeated.”
“Aye, my king,” Tavish said, hiding a chuckle as best he could.
“Go,” Dravic ordered, “and leave me in peace to plot my revenge.”
“I cannot do that, my king,” Tavish apologized. “You may think you succeeded in distracting me from my original reason for being here, but it is imperative we discuss your future wife.”
“And here I thought I’d been successful.”
It was the last thing Dravic wanted to do but Tavish was right. He could not avoid it, but he could delay it.
“I am not ready to wed,” Dravic said.
“Ready or not, you must wed and soon, especially with war not far off. A winter wedding would bring some joy to Caerith, if not all of Scotara, to be followed by news that your wife is with child. It will secure the future of the kingdom.”
“And if the kingdom falls to Drogath?”
“I do not believe you would let that happen but if by chance it did, the woman I have chosen for you comes from an island south of Scotara where she can retreat to and where she can raise, hopefully, a son who will one day reclaim the throne.”
“And she is aware of this?”
“Her father is and has sworn to protect the bairn if it comes to that.”
“I will think on it,” Dravic said.
“I would not take too long. Lord Kendrick, along with his daughter, Corvina, will arrive here in a couple of weeks to secure the arrangements and see his daughter wed.”
Dravic did not keep the anger out of his voice. “And if I do not approve of her?”
“She is the best of the lot, easy on the eyes from what I am told and a gentle soul. Believe me when I tell you the other choices are simply nightmares.”
Dravic caught Adira’s sudden movement and the way her eyes cringed in pain. He placed the goblet on the sideboard and went to her, dropping down beside her. He saw that her finger was bleeding and gently took her hand in his.
“Get Feena,” Dravic called out without turning his head.
The blood continued to pool on her finger and would soon run over. He looked around for a cloth, any cloth, but the only cloth there was her embroidery, and she had worked on it for several weeks, he did not want to see it ruined.
He reacted without thinking and slipped her finger into his mouth to suck at it and stop the bleeding. Something he had done often enough when he pricked his finger on something.
Her finger was warm, her blood tangy and he sucked on it meaning to stop the bleeding nothing more, and yet…
Warmth spread through him, unexpected and immediate. He would have lingered in the gentle feeling, but he heard heavy footfalls outside the door and quickly slipped her finger out of his mouth and felt her shudder.
He looked at her then and saw confusion in her eyes, and she tilted her head, her brow narrowing as if she sought an answer from him.
He had no time to explain or understand it himself, but then how would he if he could? She could not speak or hear.
The door burst open and Tavish rushed into the room with Feena, the elderly woman Adira had arrived here with and a trusted friend of hers.
Dravic stood. “She pricked herself on the stitching needle,” he said and walked away without giving Adira a second glance.
“Let me see that finger,” Feena said gently, taking hold of Adira’s hand.
Adira barely looked at her. Her gaze slipped past Feena to the king. He stood with his back partly to the room, one hand wrapped around the stem of the silver goblet, staring out the window where thick snow continued to blanket Caerith. He had walked away without so much as another glance in her direction.
Strange, since he always looked back as if making sure she understood and followed whatever it was he attempted to communicate to her.
“There now,” Feena said as she gently cleaned the tiny wound. “Such a fuss over a wee prick.” Her lips curved into a fond smile as she rested her hand lightly against Adira’s chest, letting her know all was well.
Adira acknowledged her familiar gesture with a faint smile. Yet nothing felt well. Something felt different, though how she was not sure.
There had been a time when merely being in the same room with the king had left her trembling.
The memory remained painfully clear.
His dark blue eyes had watched her without mercy as he had taken a dagger and sliced her forearm. She had not understood why. She had only known pain and terror. Then, the following day, she had watched his face darken when the wound was uncovered. She had glanced at Feena, easily understanding her gestures and facial expressions and had seen worry in both.