Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Magnus felt as if he had just been reprimanded and taught a lesson. He reached out to hoist Reena back onto her horse, and Horace hurried to bury his face in the crook of Reena’s arm. He shook his head and placed a heavy hand on her leg. “I need no reminding of how to handle my dog.”
She would have argued otherwise but thought better of disagreeing. She was in his service now, and that required obedience. Besides, the pup was safe and comfortable in her arms.
“I am sorry if I offended.”
Her apology seemed to irritate him even more, and he marched off without a word, leaving a decisive chill in his wake.
Reena hugged the pup to her. “Do not worry, Horace. Brigid will calm the Legend.”
Horace whimpered and snuggled closer to Reena, tucking himself soundly in her arms.
“Brigid will be good for him,” she whispered so only she could hear.
Why, then, did the thought upset her?
Chapter 7
Reena sat by the campfire, perplexed. They were not that far from their destination, yet Magnus had ordered them to camp for the night. She had hoped they would continue and arrive near nightfall, but not so.
She huddled in the comfort of the brown wool cloak, grateful for its warmth, for the night had chilled considerably. Frost would soon be thick and heavy on the branches, and winter was not far behind. And a sorrowful winter it would have been if she had not enlisted the Legend’s help.
She knew even at this moment that while she sat warm, her stomach full, many in her village huddled before a dying hearth, their stomachs aching for a scrap of food.
A good reason why they should have continued on and not camped for the night when they were so close. Her village could have had food tonight and eased the torment they had suffered.
Thomas joined her, draping a wool blanket around her, adding more warmth and much more guilt. It hung heavy on her shoulders.
“Why do we stop? Why not go on? The village is so close.” She heard her own annoyance.
Thomas simply shrugged as he stretched out on the opposite side of the fire from her. “I do not question his decisions. They have always proven to be wise.”
“My people are hungry.” Her annoyance was replaced by a sense of defeat. What if she failed one person by being so close and not arriving on time? Losing one was as bad as losing ten, for they were all connected—they all cared for each other, thus one survival meant everyone’s survival.
“Do not worry yourself,” Thomas urged. “This night will make no difference to anyone in your village. If one should die of hunger, our arrival would not have saved him for he was too close to death to save. What matters is that tomorrow your village will have an abundance of food once more and the winter will see no one go hungry. Magnus will make certain of it.”
Reena stretched out on her pallet. “Thank you, Thomas, your words help.”
“Good, now sleep, for tomorrow we rise early and there will be much work to do when we arrive at your village.”
“Aye, much,” she agreed and smiled to herself. She would help distribute the food and assist the healers with the ill, but first she would hug her parents to her—and Brigid as well. Tears threatened her eyes, but she fought them with a deep strength, as she had so many times in the last few months. It would do her no good to show weakness. After all was settled and everyone taken care of, she would go to a place of solitude and release the abundance of tears that needed shedding—alone, where no one could see or hear her. Only then would she allow herself to cry.
Reena rose with the sun, happy that it was a beautiful day for her homecoming. The camp rose as well and packed in mere minutes, no food being cooked or distributed. Magnus had given orders that they would share the morning fare with the village.
He approached her with strong and hasty strides where she stood beside her horse, and she fought the urge to retreat. He intimidated when dressed for battle, especially when he wore his helmet. He resembled the dark lord of the underworld who rose from the earth to instill fear.
He stopped beside her, so close that his arm brushed hers. His slight touch sent a shiver through her, the likes of which she had never felt before. And it perplexed her, for she had tasted fear on more than one occasion and his touch felt nothing like fear.
“You are chilled?”
She focused on his eyes, for in them, beyond the helmet, was Magnus. “Nay, I am fine and eager to return home and see my family and friends.”
“I need not remind you that your loyalty is now with me?”