Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
It lasts for all of five seconds before Dingle tries to eat it.
Kalos sighs and takes it off the goat with a shake of his head. “You just don’t have the same appreciation for beauty that I do, my little friend.”
And then Kalos ties the ribbon to his own head, crossing over his brow like a pirate. Or a ninja. Or possibly an exercise enthusiast from the 1980s.
I smother my laughter at the sight.
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” I shake my head. “Carry on.” I force my attention back to the stew, adding the last of the chopped vegetables to the large simmering pot over the fire.
Omos pulls out one of the nearby books and opens it up, laying it flat on a small table. “While we’re waiting on the stew, we can start with some simple herbal cures. What do you want to go over first?”
Oh, perfect. I get out my small journal I’ve claimed for notetaking and a charcoal stick that acts a lot like a very soft pencil. I pull up a stool next to him and eye the open book. There’s a large diagram of the inside of a flower detailed on one page and a ton of small, scribbly writing on the other side. “I think, perhaps, let’s start with headaches.” They’ve been plaguing me on and off for weeks now and I wouldn’t mind knowing how to easily take care of them myself. “Everyone gets headaches.”
The monk flips through the pages of the book, pursing his lips as he thinks. “There are several headache remedies. Do you want feverfew? Mint? Chamomile?”
“What’s the easiest to find around here?”
He considers for a moment, then opens the book to another section. “Willow bark, I think. You can get it year-round. Start here. After I’m done with my chores for the day, I can find you more books if you need them.”
The open book is turned toward me. I stare at the diagram of a tree trunk with a lot of writing alongside it. Omos gives me an expectant smile, and I feel a bit like a jerk as I realize that my great big plan is going to take up a lot of his time. “I can’t read that. You’re going to have to read it aloud to me.”
“Oh, but of course.” Omos gives me a sheepish look. “I should have realized. Lady Faith could not read our language either. She found it quite infuriating. Well, let us see.” He runs a finger down the page. “We can do a bit while the bread is baking, and we can pause while I tend to the flock. Where would you like for me to start? Symptoms? Harvesting? Preparation?”
All of that? I poise my charcoal stick over my journal. “Maybe we start with symptoms?”
“Of a headache? How about ‘head’ and ‘aches,’” Kalos points out, coming over to my side and leaning over me. He taps a finger on my page before I can even write. “Put it right there.”
I nudge him, trying not to smile so I don’t encourage him. “Thank you for the obvious.”
He keeps a hand on my shoulder, watching as I scribble out a heading. Then, he glances over at the monk. “You’re not needed for this. I can read it to her. You may go tend to your goats.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” Omos blurts out, maybe a little too quickly. He flicks a look over at me and clears his throat. “I’ll just head out there right now, actually. And I need to trim their hooves so I might be a while.”
The monk hands the book over to Kalos and practically rushes out the door. I’m a bit surprised at his actions. Turning to Kalos, I blink. “Did we say something wrong? He’s acting strange.”
“Nothing wrong.” Kalos snaps the book closed and tosses it down on the table. He sets it down with such force that the small table tips over and spills the book onto the floor, where it skids away several feet.
I exclaim in surprise and automatically get up, retrieving the book and dusting it off with my skirts. “What the hell, Kalos? Do you know how hard the monks work on these books? Every page is hand-illustrated, and we need to be careful…with…them…”
I trail off as he pushes the table aside and stalks toward me slowly. There’s a feral gleam in his green eyes, and I feel like a piece of meat in front of a particularly hungry tiger. I take a step back.
He takes a step forward.
I retreat another step.
Kalos continues to prowl toward me, his eyes heavy-lidded slits.
My back hits the bookshelf against the wall, and I’m trapped. I put a hand up to stop him, heart racing with alarm. “What’s gotten into you? You—”
The god grabs my wrist and tugs it over my head, stepping ever closer. His gaze remains locked on mine. He takes the book out of my hand and tosses it aside again, then lifts my other hand and pins it against the first. Both are anchored above my head, and the pose makes my tits thrust out, my nipples brushing against his chest.