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)
“He is the Legend.”
“Aye,” her mother readily agreed. “Without it he is Magnus, lord of Dunhurnal, a fair and protective lord.”
“But yet he is truly one man.”
Her mother shook her head. “Two men in one, and only the good Lord”—her mother crossed herself—“above knows how one can live with the other. We are all lucky we deal with Magnus. We all watched in shock as the Legend struck at Kilkern’s men without an ounce of fear and without hesitation when he saw that one of the men had injured you.”
Reena remembered how he had struck fast and hard, surprising everyone. His swift blows had sent three men to the ground in quick succession before anyone had thought to respond.
Her mother continued in French, a gentle smile surfacing. “I see how good Magnus is to you, and I am grateful you serve a protective lord. He will let nothing happen to you.”
“He treats all who serve him well.”
Her mother nodded slowly. “True, but I think Lord Dunhurnal treats you extra special.”
Reena sighed. “You have heard gossip.”
“Nay, you are my daughter, and I have watched and listened to you talk of him.”
Reena stared at her mother, speechless.
Her mother laughed softly. “This surprises you? Do you not realize your own feelings?”
“I am not sure what I feel.”
“That is a sure sign of love,” her mother said. “I was uncertain of my feelings toward your father after we met.”
“How then did you know you loved him?”
“I did not.” Her mother laughed. “I only knew that I did not want to live without him. He made me smile and laugh often. He always had kind words for me, and he never failed to let me know how beautiful he thought I was, even to this day.”
“What you are saying is that I will never be sure.”
“No one can be sure of love,” her mother said. “It is best that we follow our hearts, especially when it is obvious that a good, strong man cares for you. Let yourself feel, Reena, the rest will follow. Do not dwell on it, for it will serve no purpose. Now tell me, does your mapping go well? And what of your drawings?”
Conversation turned light, though Reena’s thoughts remained heavy. She could not help but dwell on her mother’s words and her feelings toward Magnus. While he was a fair and caring man, there remained that fear of the Legend. Or was it the fact that she knew so little of the Legend? She had learned much about Magnus but knew almost nothing of the Legend—but then perhaps Magnus preferred it that way.
The children around her father’s chair insisted on another tale when he claimed he was finished. He looked to Reena, torn between visiting with her and entertaining the children.
Reena understood and made his choice easy. “Have my father tell you the tale of the fairy king.”
The children’s eyes widened, and one little boy tugged at her father’s legging. “You truly met the fairy king?”
Her father grinned, sent her a wink, and was soon lost in a tale that had all the children mesmerized.
After promising her mother she would visit soon, she returned to the keep. Her first thought was to speak with Brigid, but she realized she would rather be alone with her thoughts. She needed some solitude to think over her concerns.
And her first was, if what existed between Magnus and her gave her concern, then how could she think of it as love? She shook her head at her own doubts and climbed the staircase slowly.
Once in her room, the door closed behind her and she went to her table, lit the many candles, and reached at a small wooden bowl for a well-used piece of charcoal. She began to draw. She did not want to think at the moment, she had thought enough and had solved nothing, nor had she reached any conclusions or made any decisions. Her mind needed clearing so that her thoughts would make more sense, and the only way to achieve a clear mind was to draw.
Time stood still when she took charcoal in hand; nothing mattered but what she was creating on paper. Sometimes she did not even consider what she would draw—she allowed her mind and hand free rein. She always appreciated the results and was even surprised at times.
The knock on her door went unheard and unanswered, and she did not hear when the door opened and Magnus entered. He closed the door quietly and watched her work from where he stood.
The flickers of light from the candles caused shadows and light to dance as equal partners across her lovely features. Her hands flowed like a perfect melody across her paper. She was lost in her drawing. He had seen her time and time again just like this. He had entered her room without her knowing, so engrossed had she been in her drawings. He would watch her draw, watch the way she chewed at her bottom lip in thought, how she rubbed her chin when deciding where to go next, how her chin or nose forever wore a smudge of charcoal.