Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102573 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
“How can they be when you divide them?” she asked.
“They will grow together soon enough,” he argued.
“How can they when you have yet to fully embrace the MacShane part of your heritage?”
He grabbed the pillow beneath his head, gave it a punch as he turned on his side, and slammed it down on the bed before dropping his head on it. That her question had been a curious one and held not a trace of blame in it annoyed him all the more. Mostly, because it reminded him of his promise to his grandfather.
“The Clan MacShane is a strong clan that has always been led by powerful men. Do it proud, Bhric, and guide with pride, wisdom, and strength so that all those who came before you and fought and sacrificed did not do so in vain. And make sure your son understands that so he may carry on the name and tradition of the great Clan MacShane. Promise me this, Bhric.”
“Aye, Grandfather, I give you my word.”
His grandfather had died peacefully later that night. Could his wife be right? Was he not doing enough to unite his tribe and clansmen? Had he been more devoted to one than the other?
A rapid knock on the door had his troubled thoughts fleeing.
“It is me, Sven. There is a problem.”
Bhric hurried out of bed and with no thought to his nakedness opened the door.
“Fen is loose,” Sven said. “It is a good thing it is deep at night, and no one is about.”
“What does Harald say?” Bhric asked, turning to hurry and don his garments.
“He does not understand how he got loose. No one dares approach the hound, he is far too vicious. The other hounds do not even go near him, at least not since the last battle. It is almost as if he lost his soul in that battle. All in the tribe know not to approach him.”
“Not so those in the clan,” Bhric said, and it made him see the truth to his wife’s words that there was a divide between the tribe and the clan. “You are notifying people to remain inside until otherwise told?”
Sven nodded. “I have two warriors going cottage to cottage.”
“I will go tell my wife she is not to leave the keep, then join you in the Great Hall.”
Sven nodded and left.
Bhric eased the door open to his wife’s bedchamber not wanting to startle her. A chill greeted him, her fire nothing but embers. He went and added logs, the dry wood catching fast. He stood, hating to wake her but intent on seeing her kept safe.
His eyes shot wide when he saw the bed was empty. He hurried a glance around the room and his heart slammed in his chest when her cloak was nowhere to be seen. He raced from the room and down the stairs taking them three at a time.
“My wife is not in her room and her cloak is gone,” Bhric said as he burst into the Great Hall.
Sven’s mouth fell open, though no words fell out.
“There’s only one place she can be,” Bhric said.
“The wounded clansman,” Sven said and rushed after Bhric already headed to the door.
Tavia stepped out of the cottage and raised her chin, the sting of the cold air feeling good on her heated face. She had woken with worry about Lath and knowing she would never get any sleep if she did not go see for herself that he was all right, she had dressed and left her bedchamber. She was glad she had. A fever had set in, and slight as it was, it was still a worry. She had helped Hertha bathe Lath’s head while Hume mixed a concoction of elderflowers and thyme to keep the fever from turning worse.
For comfort’s sake, Tavia had placed a wet cloth that had also been soaked in snow on Lath’s heated brow. It calmed him instantly and eased his restlessness. The wound looked no better or worse than it had earlier so that was a relief. Good care and lots of prayers were the only things they could do for Lath. The rest was up to fate. At least now he was resting comfortably and Tavia was ready to seek her bed and sleep. She was feeling guilty for sneaking out of the keep without telling her husband. She had not wanted to wake him, though the truth of it was that she feared he would forbid her to leave the keep at such an hour.
The village had been silent, not a soul stirred as she had walked the empty paths, and she hoped it would be the same on her return. Of course, she told herself she should confess the truth to her husband, but she warned herself it might not be a good idea. She would have time to think about it on her walk back to the keep.