Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99325 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 497(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Reena felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of mapping land once again. “A good thought, especially with Kilkern property being so close. It is important you know your boundaries.”
Magnus filled his own plate. “It is more important Kilkern knows his boundaries, though he feels he has none.”
“His boundaries are defined well enough.” Reena paused in taking a bite of her food. “If I may inquire? How did you come by Dunhurnal land? Land is either inherited or—”
“Granted for a favor done,” Magnus finished.
She wondered over the favor he had provided to the king to win him land. “If the king himself granted the land, how can Kilkern think to protest?”
“A foolish trick on his part.” Magnus poured them more wine.
“Do you know of this Brian Conor, earl of Dunhurnal? This keep was empty when my parents settled as tenants on Culberry land, and it has remained empty since that time. Gossipy tongues spoke of an earl who had taken ill and died leaving no heirs to inherit, so it remained vacant these many years.”
He shrugged as if he knew or cared little about the previous occupants, though his voice held conviction as he reached for a thick slice of dark bread. “I know the land is mine and it will remain mine. Kil-kern is angry that I robbed him of his tenants and land he feels is his, so he strikes out in blind vengeance. A mistake that will cost him dearly.”
“Do you feel he will attack the keep?”
“Nay, it will serve no purpose and only gain him the wrath of the king. He must make it appear that I took what was rightfully his, though my concern does remain for Brigid. He would not hesitate to use her to get revenge.”
“You speak as if you know him well.”
“I know his kind, but enough of Kilkern. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”
Reena grew attentive after taking a sip of her wine. She had grown to look forward to their discussions. They often talked well into the night, sitting before the fire in his solar, he talking of faraway lands and she asking for specific details. He had detailed a place so vividly once that she had drawn it for him. He was amazed at her accuracy, so she listened well now, eager to hear what he had to say.
He sat tall in his seat, his chest expanding the dark leather of his tunic and his features growing firm and intent in expression. “I wish you to pay close attention to what I have to say.”
The Legend spoke—she detected it in his commanding tone and the way his eyes focused directly on her. Here was the part of him she wished to capture on paper. The warrior intent on command, intimidating in stance and tone, and her drawing would reflect it all.
Her hands itched, her creative passion soared, and she could not contain herself. “Wait a moment.”
He looked startled when she jumped up and made a dash for her desk, quickly gathering paper and charcoal and returning with the same haste. She moved platters of food out of her way and positioned her drawing tablet on the table before her. With charcoal in hand and a steady eye on him she said, “You may continue.”
Her actions so surprised him that he could do nothing but stare. He had intended to remind her that she was to seek his permission before going anyplace on her own. His friend’s words had given him pause to consider that Reena’s mapping skills could place her at risk. She would know more of his lands, keeps and surrounding lands than anyone, making her vulnerable to his enemies. If they captured her, they captured a wealth of knowledge about him.
Her small hands flew across the paper, her eyes darting from him back to the tablet. It amazed him how quickly she could produce a drawing, of person or place it did not matter. Her hands and eyes appeared to work in coordination, and the results were a portrait or picture so remarkably detailed it appeared real.
He loved watching her in the throes of creation. She was intent on her task at hand, and she allowed nothing to disturb her. She would sometimes chew at her lower lip or wrinkle her small nose or squint her beautiful eyes as she paid strict heed to her work, leaving room for nothing but her art. Sometimes a strand of her long dark hair would repeatedly fall in her face, and she would tuck it behind her ear again and again, the stubborn strand refusing to stay put, much like Reena herself.
He reiterated his words. “You are to pay attention.”
“I can listen while I work,” she assured him, her hand busy creating sweeping lines and curves.