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)
The serving woman arrived with two trenchers of stew and a loaf of bread. Elara murmured her thanks and as she reached for the spoon, her eyes caught glances cast their way from the other tables.
“They know you,” she whispered.
“Do they?” he asked, tearing a piece of bread as if it mattered not to him.
“They keep staring.”
He shrugged. “Curiosity, nothing more. Not many strangers come through Barloch.”
“How do you know that?” she asked, thinking he dismissed her own curiosity too easily.
His gaze met hers. “Eat your supper, wife. The day’s been long and don’t look for problems where there are none.”
Elara looked down at her bowl, but the question lingered. If he truly was only a wanderer, why did the inhabitants of a borderland village—one caught between three powerful realms—look at him like a man remembered, not merely noticed? But then he was a wanderer, what could he have done the last time he was here to be remembered and more so with caution than curiosity?
The stew was rich with barley and herbs, the kind of simple fare that would have satisfied her on any other night. But Elara’s mind wasn’t on the food. Every mile of the journey, the last few nights spent beneath trees and rain, had brought her here to Feena. She could not rest or waste her thoughts, not now that they’d reached the village.
She glanced toward the window where dusk was gathering. “I’ll finish quickly. We should go to Feena before night falls.”
Dar tore another piece of bread, dipping it into the gravy, his voice stern. “You’ll do no such thing. We’ve been four days on the road with little rest and less food. You’ll eat, then sleep, and go to her in the morning when the light’s good.”
“This cannot wait,” Elara argued.
He didn’t look up from his meal. “And if you collapse at her door, what good will that do?”
Elara bit back a sigh, her impatience prickling. “You sound more like a guard than a husband.”
He looked at her then, a hint of amusement glinting in his gray eyes. “I’m whatever keeps you in one piece.”
She might have smiled, had she not felt the weight of so many eyes still glancing their way. Men leaned close over their mugs, their talk muted, the air thick with something unspoken. She couldn’t tell if it was suspicion, curiosity, or recognition, and it unnerved her.
Her spoon stilled in her hand. “They’re staring again.”
“Aye,” Dar said easily. “Folks in border villages always stare. They weigh every face that passes through, deciding if it means trouble or coin.”
“But it’s you they keep watching, not me.”
He tore another bite of bread, unbothered. “I’ve been told I’m worth looking at.”
She couldn’t deny that. Even with the scruff that had grown thicker on his face, it didn’t hide his exceptional features. She frowned more at herself than him for thinking so frivolously when serious matters were at hand. She may enjoy his kisses but there was no future with him, he was a wanderer and she—an herb-scribe mistaken as a healer and snatched up at any moment and swept away to who knew where.
She shook her head to clear it as she said, “You’re avoiding the question.”
“Because the answer doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly, “What is it you want to know, wife?”
Elara met his gaze. “Why do they stare at you with caution?”
He leaned forward, his face close to hers. “A drunken moment I wish to forget and obviously they have not. Now eat.”
She took a couple spoonfuls of the stew before deciding she needed to settle her curiosity. “What made you a wanderer?”
His expression didn’t change, but the light in his eyes faded like a shutter closing.
“Nothing I’ll talk about,” he said sharply and with a distinct finality. “Now eat so we may rest.”
She didn’t pursue it, though it gnawed at her as did his dictate. “I prefer we go find Feena.”
He kept his voice low but firm. “You’ll do as I say. We’ll go at first light. I want to see what sort of folk this Feena keeps around her before we go knocking at her door.”
Elara nodded, since he made sense, though every part of her bristled. “At first light, then.”
They exchanged few words as they ate, Elara enjoying the stew and the warmth of the inn. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Dar was right about waiting until morning to visit Feena. Several yawns had proven she was tired and needed a good night’s sleep so she would have a clear mind when she spoke with the old woman.
“You need to sleep,” Dar said and stood and came around the table to take hold of her arm and help her to her feet.
The murmurs in the room rose again as they passed by, too soft to make out, but Elara could feel the unease prickling her skin.