Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95772 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
“I won’t be long since I’ve yet to eat this morning and I’m starving.” Willow’s stomach grumbled to prove it.
Snow chuckled. “I haven’t eaten yet either so we can share the meal together. Where is Slatter?”
“His grandmother wanted to speak with him privately. I’m sure he’ll be finished soon since she was growing tired when I was there and she needs to rest.” She stood. “Which means I have little time to get this done before my husband shows up. I’ll be back in a wink.”
“Be careful,” Snow called after her and Thaw raised his head where he slept at Snow’s feet and gave a yelp.
Willow loved the woods and the way it dressed for the seasons. Today she wore a light mantle of snow, the ground and bare tree branches dusted with it, except for the pines. The snow clung to the pine needles making them appear as if they flickered with light against the dull gray sky.
She had spent much time here with her mum digging up nettles, wild carrot, wild rasps, and more. Her mum taught her about plants and the woods itself. Her mum had told her that the woods was a safe place if people were wise to its ways.
She made her way to a spot where a group of oak trees appeared clumped together, though there was space for a person or three young lasses to squeeze into the center.
She smiled at the enjoyable memories the trees brought her, the laughter she and her sisters had shared, and the tears, the three of them having gone there after burying their da. They had sought solace together and the trees had given it to them. She had to shake her head at the thought that some believed the tree roots could in anyway reach down to hell and the devil himself. They were far too lovely and comforting to be touched by evil.
Willow had little time so she didn’t dally or squeeze between the trees. She simply rested her hand against the trunk of one of the oaks and asked for the Slayer’s help. She didn’t plead; she simply asked for help.
She let her hand linger on the rough bark as if drawing strength from it and found herself offering a silent prayer to keep her husband safe. She turned with a flourish when finished to hurry back to the keep, recalling she had assured her sister she wouldn’t be long, and stopped surprised to see her husband standing a good distance away. She went to smile and wave to him, wondering how he had gotten past her without her noticing him, when she quickly drew her hand close to her chest.
It wasn’t her husband who stood there.
A quick glance and one would think it was Slatter, but a second look warned his garments were different then what her husband wore, his dark hair slightly longer, and even from a distance there was an evil look in his dark eyes, one she had never seen in her husband’s eyes.
He smiled and reached his hand out. “Come to me, wife. We finally have some time alone.”
“You’re not my husband,” Willow shouted firmly, taking slow steps back.
He laughed. “What nonsense do you speak?”
“I speak the truth, unlike you who poses as my husband.”
He lowered his arm to his side, his smile fading. “One look at you at the market and I knew there’d be no convincing you.” His smile returned. “Not so others though. Unless they see me themselves they won’t believe you.”
“Believe that at your own peril,” she warned.
His features turned harsh and she was reminded of her husband and how he looked when he got angry. How this stranger and her husband could look so much alike baffled her.
“You are the one in peril and you will learn that soon enough, leannan.” He walked off laughing.
His echoing laughter lingered like a strong, foul odor after he had long disappeared and Willow shivered as she turned, hoisted the hem of her garment, and ran toward the keep.
Slatter had hoped his grandmother might help shed some light on his problem. He had thought perhaps he had a twin that his mother never told him about. But his grandmother had attended his birth and she assured him that he was the only child born to his mother that night. She knew nothing about his father and his mother had spoken little about him to Slatter, except to say he was not important to their lives.
At the moment, he thought differently. His father could very well hold the key to his problem.
He entered the Great Hall expecting to see his wife there only to find Snow sitting at a table alone, a worried expression marring her lovely features.
“Where is Willow,” he asked, concerned his wife had gone off and done something foolish.