Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 205(@200wpm)___ 164(@250wpm)___ 137(@300wpm)
Raff smirked. “Aye, lass. Whatever you say.”
But as he watched her, he knew this would be more than just a simple trip to market. Chafton had taken from them more than once and greedy men like him never stopped demanding more.
Later, just before dusk, Raff approached the fire where Ingrid sat, the glow casting flickering shadows over her face. Villagers milled about, enjoying the last of the daylight, children laughing as they played nearby.
“May I join you?” he asked.
Ingrid looked up, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Of course.”
He lowered himself onto a nearby log, stretching out his legs. Silence settled between them comfortably, the sounds of the village filling the space.
She studied him for a moment before speaking. “Are you enjoying the work in the fields?”
He gave a small chuckle. “I imagine you don’t think I belong there.”
“That you’re a warrior was obvious before stating it yourself,” she said. “I don’t think anyone would take you for a farmer.”
Raff turned his gaze to the flames. “Maybe. But I’ve always loved working the earth. There’s power in the soil, in the way it nourishes life. A battle takes, but the land gives.” He paused, rubbing his hands together. “There’s something honest about it.”
She tilted her head, intrigued. “That’s more than you’ve said about yourself since you arrived.”
Raff continued to stare into the fire. “Not much to tell.”
“I doubt that.” She nudged a stray ember with the tip of her boot. “Your family—”
“They pay me no mind,” he said, but as soon as the words left his lips, something stirred inside him, made him think differently of his situation. It wasn’t that they had abandoned him. He had abandoned them—with his wish.
A shadow fell across his face, and he forced himself to add, “It was my fault.”
Ingrid was quiet for a moment, then gave a wry smile. “I once wished my mother didn’t pay me much mind.”
“You mentioned she could be overbearing.”
She chuckled. “That’s putting it mildly. She insists she knows what’s best for me more than I do. She believes she can find me the perfect husband and that I should accept him without question.” She chuckled again. “Fair warning. She stops by now and again and if she sees us sitting, talking like this, she will attack you with endless questions.”
Raff puffed out his chest. “Remember, I’m a warrior.”
Ingrid dropped her head back in a hardy laugh. “Even a warrior is no match for my mum.”
“I will keep that in mind and plan wisely.”
They both chuckled, but as Raff watched her, a new feeling settled within him… contentment. And something else. He realized that he favored Ingrid, cared for her and dare he think about having a possible future with her? If he was lucky enough for her to feel the same about him. It might be a foolish thought since they only met, but being seen by her and having feelings he long thought dead gave him hope. And hope was something he had given up on until… Ingrid.
But first, he needed to see about ridding himself of the wish. If he had a chance for happiness here, with her, he wouldn’t let it be stolen from him. And for that he needed a witch.
CHAPTER 6
Latham joined Raff in the fields, walking in the furrowed rows. The scent of earth and grain filled the air, mixing with the crisp bite of autumn. Though much of the harvest had been gathered, work still remained. Bundles of wheat and barley waited to be threshed, and the last of the root vegetables needed pulling before they were hit with early and unexpected frost.
“The work is going well. You do more than three men combined, and we are grateful for your help,” Latham said, nudging a loose stone from the field. “There is a place for you here if you wish to stay.”
Raff studied the expanse of farmland, smelled the rich scent of the potent earth. “I’ll give it some thought. How much longer before we finish, you think?”
“A few weeks yet,” Latham replied. “The days will be long but the celebration that follows will make it that more enjoyable and well worth it. There’ll be feasting, music, dancing.” A grin spread across his face. “And more than a few folks eager to drink themselves blind.”
Raff huffed a quiet chuckle, imagining the revelry. He had attended such feasts before—clan gatherings, victory celebrations—but none since his cursed wish had come to pass. He wasn’t sure if he belonged at such occasions anymore, but then he thought of sharing it with Ingrid and he felt a tug in his chest.
“Of course,” Latham added, his voice dipping lower, “that is, if the witch doesn’t take a liking to the celebration first.”
Raff turned to him, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Latham glanced around as if weighing whether to say more. Then, with a knowing look, he leaned in. “This time of year is when her power is the strongest. The veil is thin, or so the old ones say. She walks among us, unseen, listening, choosing.”