Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“I will wake you at dawn tomorrow, woman.” At full arousal and ready to have her again.
She wiggled her juicy berry fingers at him. “Wake me as you did this morn and I will have no complaints. How far?”
“A day. Mayhap two. We are near the crossroads that mark the border of the realm.” He laid his palm upon her thigh, and something in his touch must have conveyed the gravity of what he would tell her next, for despite her berry fingers and her nakedness, she suddenly regarded him solemnly. “Even before we reach the crossroads, we will ride past the statues of those who thought fleeing Galoth would save them. It is not easy to see. Especially the children. And within Galoth…there are so many more.”
“I will be prepared.” She swallowed thickly. “Somewhat.”
Warrick set aside the bowl and sat up, catching her face in his hands. “You are my heart, Elina.”
She smiled tremulously. “You are mine,” she whispered and kissed him, tasting of berries and the sun and all the years that lay ahead of them.
So perfect. Warrick could not say the same for the rest of the world, but between Elina and him, everything was right.
And nothing was wrong.
No one person ruled over Galoth, just as no one ruled the Dead Lands. But instead of clans, independent clusters of farming villages and townships were spread over the verdant hills, and surrounded a larger city where Anhera’s temple stood atop a granite rise.
The road to that city passed through several villages. For two days, Elina rode beside Warrick—until he noted the increasing attention she received, the glances and quiet exclamations from the villagers. She had not attempted to hide Anhera’s stars; the sun gleamed off the jewels that graced the hand she used to hold her reins.
Though she could not be harmed, he would also not allow them to be separated. Without a word, Warrick hauled Elina out of her saddle and settled her in front of him.
A moment later, a villager ran up beside them. Cautious hope lined his face. His left arm was stone to his elbow. “Are they…?”
He did not finish, as if he could not bear to ask the question, fearing an answer that might destroy his hope.
“They are the Stars of Anhera,” Warrick told him. “We are returning them to the temple.”
The man stumbled to his knees and burst into sobs. “May the gods bless you both! The stars are found!” he cried to the others milling about, drawing cries of joy and wonder. “We march to the temple!”
Warrick held Elina closer, aware of the tears steadily dripping down her cheeks. Just as they had when she’d seen the first statues, her expression utterly stricken with horror…and guilt.
“You could not have known,” he reassured her now as he had then. “A grave wrong was done to these people, yet it was not done by you. You are here to right it. You are here to end it. ”
She nodded yet said nothing. Mayhap unable to speak.
And the villagers did begin to march. A crowd gathered behind—some on foot, some on horses or in wagons, some coming closer to catch a glimpse of the rings. Affected by the outpouring of happiness and celebration, slowly Elina began to smile again, and laugh at the antics of the children who were trying to get her attention.
They were passing another statue when she abruptly said, “You are not glowing.”
Bemused, he replied, “I am not.”
“I had thought that with all of the”—she gestured to the stone woman—“there would be many ghosts, waiting for a wrong to be righted. Not only for the stars to be returned, but also waiting for the person who stole the jewels to be caught. I thought all of Galoth would be a haunt.”
Warrick frowned. In truth, he’d not considered it before. The horror of what had happened to everyone who suffered from the curse was enough. He’d never thought of how, after dying of the stone sickness, each person’s horror might continue as a ghost.
“I know not why,” he said slowly. Unless the ghosts were also locked in the stone. Or unless the stone figures were not dead—which was another horror altogether. “Mayhap it is a part of the curse.”
Elina chin lifted. “Then let us break it.”
They were not far from the city gates when Bannin came galloping down the road to meet them, reins looped around a hand that was fully stone to his wrist.
“Warrick the Trollslayer!” Bannin shouted the greeting, laughing merrily as he pulled his horse to a halt—and Warrick had never seen the big warrior so giddy before. Not even when drunk. Nor could he mistake wild hope in the man’s face. “You have the jewels? Or do these good people follow you in anticipation of seeing you frighten another troll?”