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)
She pressed herself closer against him and he welcomed her, his hand drifting down to her backside to press her even tighter against him.
He felt it… her need. It was as great as his.
You must wed.
If he did not know any better, he would think Tavish stood in the room with them, his voice was so clear in his head. And hearing it was like throwing cold water at him.
It brought him to his senses.
Dravic eased Adira away from him and without looking her in the eyes, he grabbed his cloak and left the cottage.
Adira stood there staring at the closed door. Her lips still pulsed from his kiss, her body ached for his touch, and her heart pained with such grave loss that she grabbed her chest and sank down on the nearest chair.
The kiss changed everything, but she feared what that change may be.
Adira opened her eyes and sat up. The cottage was still, a fresh fire burned in the hearth, and food and drink had been left on the table. There was not one morning she did not breakfast with the king, but he was nowhere to be seen.
The memory of his kiss came rushing back. Without thinking, her fingers brushed her lips. A smile threatened before fading just as quickly.
She glanced at the window, feeling much like the gray morning light that crept through it… shaded in uncertainty.
What would happen now?
She would not wait. She would go see for herself.
She rose, slipped on her boots, and brushed the wrinkles from her garments as best she could. Her fingers worked free the ribbon that held her braid. The heavy strands slipped over her shoulders and down her back. She combed them through with her fingers until they were free of any tangles, then let them remain loose.
She looked toward the door.
Would he regret what had happened between them? Would he send her away?
The thought tightened her chest, and she drew a steady breath.
She was anxious to leave the cottage and, having no stomach for food, she slipped on her cloak, opened the door and stepped into the fresh morning air and complete chaos.
The king’s guard stood only a few feet away, his back to her, his attention fixed on the turmoil unfolding before him.
People hurried toward Vachel’s cottage while others already gathered there stood huddled together, their worried expressions difficult to read from where she stood. Some clasped each other’s hands, others bowed their heads, and a few simply stared at the cottage in silence.
A heaviness settled in her heart.
Had the young lass died?
Beyond the crowd, she spotted the king with Ernach. He spoke briefly with several villagers, then with quick, determined strides headed toward Vachel’s cottage.
Adira walked to the guard and tapped him on the shoulder.
He turned at once.
She pointed toward the king.
Cadby followed the direction of her finger and nodded. “Aye. I am to bring you to the king.” He grimaced. “I keep forgetting. You cannot hear me… and you cannot speak.”
He pointed toward the king, then motioned with his hand for her to follow.
Adira bobbed her head to let him know she understood.
Cadby waited until she reached his side before escorting her through the anxious villagers toward the king.
Adira’s eyes remained fixed on the growing crowd outside Vachel’s cottage. The villagers’ expressions were mixed, their movements cautious, making it difficult for her to understand what was going on.
“It cannot be.”
The whispered words caught Cadby’s attention.
“Nay… it is.”
Adira saw his brow knit.
“It is impossible.”
“There is one…”
“…the healer spoken of in the oldest tales.”
“…the one who can defy death.”
Cadby’s hand slipped beneath his jerkin and closed tightly around the amulet that hung from his neck.
Adira looked from the amulet to his face, puzzled by the sudden change in him.
“A miracle…”
“The impossible…”
Cadby stopped at the cottage door, looked at Adira, then opened the door and stepped aside.
Adira realized he would remain outside.
She entered alone.
The cottage no longer held the crushing grief it had the day before. Relief had taken its place.
The king stood speaking with Vachel and his wife while Ernach remained nearby, a broad smile brightening his weathered face. Tears still glistened on the mother’s cheeks, but now they flowed with joy instead of sorrow.
“She died,” the mother’s voice trembled. “There was not a breath left in her.”
“Aye, not a breath left,” Vachel repeated, his own voice filled with wonder. “I took my wife outside. She could bear no more. We stayed but a few moments.”
“When we returned…” His voice faltered, emotion thickening it. “…our lass was sitting up asking if there was anything to eat.”
His wife laughed through fresh tears. “She wanted a honey cake.”
Adira watched their faces, puzzled by the sudden joy that had replaced despair.
She quietly walked around them to see the lass sitting upright in bed, happily eating a honey cake.
Adira stared. The blood had been washed from the child’s face. The bandage was gone. Only a faint scar remained upon her forehead, looking years old rather than freshly healed.