Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“Adira,” Feena corrected him, wanting him to see her as a person who hurts and fears like anyone else.
“She stays, and she remains with me until I say otherwise,” he commanded, Adira’s name never reaching his lips as his hand tightened on her shoulder.
Adira froze, her breath shuddering, eyes wide and frightened as she felt the weight of his clamped hand deepen.
Feena hesitated only a heartbeat, her face pale and drawn with fear for the lass she loved like a daughter, ready to speak up.
The king silenced her before she could speak. “Out. NOW.”
Feena shuffled past him, barely having time to send Adira one last soft look, hand to her own chest in their private sign of comfort before Tavish ushered her out of the room.
Elara lingered one heartbeat longer before Dar touched her elbow lightly, a silent urging. She cast one final glance toward Adira, the young woman trembling beneath the king’s grip, then turned and stepped out of the chamber.
Behind her, the heavy door thudded shut, the sound reverberating through the corridor like the slam of fate itself.
Chapter Seventeen
The King’s Chambers
The Looming Threat
* * *
King Dravic stood beside the table, his hands braced on its edge, his shoulders taut. The single candle burning beside him threw a sharp glow across the strong planes of his face.
Dar, Tavish, and Muir stood before him, silent and watchful.
When the king finally spoke, his voice cut through the stillness like a blade drawn from its sheath. “Warlord Tharne of Drogath continues to prepare for war.”
Muir’s brows shot up. Tavish remained stone-still. Dar’s jaw tightened, though he kept his expression firmly controlled.
“Are you certain it’s Scotara he plans to wage war against?” Dar asked carefully.
The king straightened. “Certain enough. Their fleets multiply. Their shores bristle with warriors and communication from advisors I sent to speak with Tharne has become sparse.”
Tavish stepped forward slightly. “Your spies—”
“Every one of them has returned empty-handed,” the king said. “Or not at all.”
A chill slipped down Dar’s spine at what war with Drogath would mean. The Drogath were fierce, brutal, and skillful warriors. Endless lives would be lost or maimed. It was no wonder the king was searching for a healer that could keep death at bay.
The king’s gaze slid to Dar, direct and piercing. “I have learned that Drogath has sent a spy into Scotara, one who blends so well he would never be expected of devious intentions. One who moves unseen, gathering information. I spoke with your father about him, ordered him to find him, but I have heard nothing yet from him.”
“Nothing is known about him?” Muir asked.
“Only that he is exceptional at what he does, blends well and adapts easily to his surroundings,” the king said with an annoyed growl. “He sends no messages by raven, no sign, no trail. Yet someone is feeding Drogath knowledge, knowledge meant to weaken us or warn them how strong we stand.”
“We must find out,” Muir said, eager to see it done. “He could be watching your army to see if it grows or to see if you will secure aid from the tribes in the far north.”
“Or does he search for the healer as well?” the king snapped.
“If the reason can be found, negotiations established, perhaps a war could be averted,” Dar said.
“Not likely,” the king said. “Rulers who openly prepare for war have already made their decision. War with the Drogath, I fear, is inevitable.”
For a moment, silence settled, thick and weighted.
The king turned fully toward Dar. “I will send word to your father that Hunters are no longer to hunt the healer I covet. They will search for the spy. You will do the same as you travel with your wife. Find him,” the king commanded, each word ringing with demand. “And bring him to me alive.”
“Aye, my king,” Dar said, bowing his head.
“I want answers,” the king continued. “Why does Drogath prepare for war with Scotara? Why does he watch us, and why now?”
“If the spy is clever, he will not be easily found,” Tavish said.
A thin, dangerous smile touched the king’s mouth. “Then perhaps it is time he learned the Hunters are after him and they never fail me. Go and do my bidding.”
“As you command,” Dar said.
He and Muir bowed and turned toward the door.
Elara stared at the heavy, closed doors. Feena stood rigid beside her, one trembling hand pressed to her chest, her eyes shining with the terror she dared not voice.
“What do you think they discuss?” Elara asked.
“War. Whispers of it started a few months ago and have grown stronger along with the king’s search for an extraordinary healer. He foolishly believes she can make a difference, save his warriors from death, make his army invincible.” Feena shook her head. “No healer can save an army from death, only a wise king can do that.”