Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87731 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Along the shelf beneath the window, smooth stones and pale shells—gathered from the shoreline beyond the village—sat in neat rows, each chosen for its shape or color. Some had already found their place in delicate necklaces, their cords braided and waiting to be tied. Others remained loose, as if she had yet to decide what they would become.
A length of twine lay coiled beside them, along with beads carved from wood and bone, small tokens she often worked into her pieces. Nothing was placed without thought. Nothing without purpose.
It was a space made by careful hands, by quiet patience, by her… her home.
Bria moved to set water to warm, her hands working with practiced ease, though her thoughts remained fixed elsewhere.
On Kaelan.
The way he had spoken. The questions he had asked without hesitation, without fear. The certainty that lingered in him, quiet, unshaken, and the touch.
Her hand stilled over the herbs.
That feeling. She had never known anything like it. Not once, in all the years she had laid her hands upon the injured, the sick, the weary. Never had her touch been met with something in return. Never had it stirred anything within her.
She drew a slow breath, steadying herself as she reached again for the herbs, measuring them out with care.
“It is nothing,” she murmured softly, though the words felt uncertain even as she spoke them. “Something new… nothing more.”
But the thought did not settle. It lingered. Much like the memory of his hand in hers. The warmth of it. The quiet tug she had not understood, nor the emptiness that took hold when they no longer touched.
Bria didn’t understand any of it and something told her that she might not be given the choice.
A rap at her door, followed by a shout, “Bria, you’re needed,” had her grabbing her cloak and hurrying out the door.
Chapter Four
The Healing Cottage
Where Comfort Comes Before the Cure
Bria stepped out of the healing cottage, the door closing softly behind her as the sounds within faded to a murmur. She had been busy all day, calming those in need for a variety of reasons. Some were so heavy it took much of her strength and others needed nothing more than a light comforting touch. But the sheer volume of it had taken its toll on her.
Night had settled over Willowmere, the autumn air carrying a strong chill, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. The village—so often filled with the quiet comfort of routine—appeared unusually quiet tonight. Fear of what might linger in the forest, keeping everyone close to home.
She drew in a slow breath, ready to seek the comfort of her cottage. Exhaustion pressed at her limbs, heavy and unrelenting, but it was not weariness alone that weighed on her. It was that her thoughts had strayed far too much to Kaelan. She had to push them aside all day and yet they continued to return. She had never experienced anything like it, and it concerned her.
A soft creak sounded behind her, and she turned as the cottage door opened.
Leya stepped out, a tankard held carefully in her hands, a fitted lid secured tightly atop it to keep its contents from spilling.
“For Kaelan,” Leya said before Bria could ask, adjusting her grip slightly. “He may need your comforting touch along with it.”
“Aye,” she said, not sure why she found pleasure in the task.
“Better you than me,” Leya said, with a shiver. “He unsettles me. Did you not feel it in him?”
“Strength,” Bria found herself saying. “I mostly found strength in him.”
“All the more reason he unsettles me. His strength in body alone surpasses that of anyone here in Willowmere.” Leyla shivered. “It’s a chilly one tonight. Hurry to see your chore done, then seek the heat of your cottage.”
“You know my thoughts.” Bria laughed lightly, and so did Leya as she returned inside the main healing cottage.
Bria kept her steps swift, though they slowed when her gaze drifted toward the forest and the darkness beyond.
Had the creature she had come face to face with escaped from Driochmor?
Her chest tightened slightly. It made no sense. Nothing from that cursed land had been seen in Scotara—not in her lifetime, nor in the telling of those who came before. The king had forbidden it. Banished it.
Her thoughts lingered there, unease curling deeper within her. If such a thing truly walked the woods, why had it left Driochmor?
Turning, she made her way through the village, her steps slower now, the quiet pressing in around her. Lamps glowed softly in windows, their light offering little comfort against the stretch of darkness beyond.
The healing cottage stood at the edge of the village on purpose. It was meant to be a place of calm and quiet so the ill could heal peacefully.
A faint unease settled in her chest as she approached, though she told herself it was nothing more than the weight of the night.