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)
“Where is she?” Bhric demanded of Newlin when he returned to the Great Hall.
Newlin looked puzzled, then worried. “Tavia is not in her bedchamber?”
“Nay, she is not. And if she is well enough to leave there, then why did she not join her husband for supper?” Bhric asked, his temper flaring. “Where do I find her?”
“Her solar,” Newlin said relieved and waved at a nearby servant lass. “Go fetch, Lady Tavia.”
“Nay, I will go speak with her there,” Bhric said and caused the servant lass to jump with his demand. “Show me!”
The lass hurried to lead the way and gave Bhric a wide berth when the solar was found empty.
“Newlin!” Bhric called out, returning once again to the Great Hall. “I will know now where my wife is.”
The room grew silent, his warriors’ hands going to the hilts of their knives tucked at their sides, ready for his command.
Newlin shook his head, not sure where his daughter had gone.
Bhric, out of the corner of his eye, caught a young servant lad sneaking to hide himself in the shadows of a dark corner.
“You lad!” Bhric yelled, and the servant froze. “Step forward and tell me what you know of my wife.”
The lad did as he was ordered, his skinny body trembling. “I saw Lady Tavia in the kitchen gathering a basket of food.”
Bhric turned to Newlin, fury swirling in his dark eyes. “Who does she go to meet?”
Newlin was hesitant, knowing as soon as he heard that his daughter had gathered a basket of food where she had intended to go.
Bhric fisted his hands at his sides as he stepped in front of Newlin. “Does she go to meet a man?”
Newlin’s eyes popped wide. “Nay! Nay, my lord. She goes to see the demon witch.”
CHAPTER 3
“Your husband knows you are here,” Fia said.
Tavia sighed. “I cannot run. I will not run.”
“Courage is your ally. Keep it with you always,” Fia advised softly.
“TAVIA!”
She cringed at the strength of her husband’s shout. He exuded power not only in his commanding voice but his impressive size as well, and she did not know how she would ever deal with him.
Strength. Whether she felt it or not she had to stay strong.
“I am here,” she called out.
He seemed to take up the width of the stairs when he reached the bottom or perhaps it was her fear of him that had her see it that way.
“If you think to get some curse or spell to put on me from this demon witch, know now it will not work,” Bhric said, standing beside her, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at her.
“You are right. It would not work on you. You are much too tenacious for anything to penetrate that thick head of yours,” Tavia said and almost gasped at her own audacious response.
Her bold response surprised him and annoyed him as well, and he was quick to warn, “I’ll not tolerate a sharp-tongued wife.”
“So you have told me, and I will do my best to remember that, but you would do well to remember that Fia is no witch.”
His large hands were at her waist in a flash, and he launched her to her feet with one swift lift. He was surprised she grabbed hold of his arms when he did, and he did not fail to see her slight cringe. That she was still in pain was obvious and he kept a firm grasp on her.
“This woman is not a demon or witch then? She has no powers to cast spells?” he asked, though wondered how she could be so certain or so foolish.
“As I said, Fia is no witch or demon. She is a wise healer.”
“Or so she has you believe,” he challenged. “You know not what truth or lies she tells you.”
Tavia saw no reason to argue with him. He thought one way and she another. “As you say, my lord.”
Bhric took hold of her chin, raising her head to look at him. “Your father told me that Lord Varrick is on his way here to collect this woman. I have agreed that he should surrender her to him. Until we take our leave, I forbid you to come here and speak with her.”
Tavia’s anger spiked, and her heart pounded in her chest. That this man, whose hands found their way upon her far too often when only meeting him, would reign over her telling her what she could and could not do, did not set well with her. She had been a dutiful daughter, but it had been easy with a father who had not been overly demanding and would at least hear her out. This man demanded without any thought to how she felt or what she, herself, thought.
She bit her tongue from lashing out at him and responded as she had done since meeting him. “As you say, my lord.” That it annoyed him was obvious and she felt a sense of victory, small as it might be.