Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“This is foolish, my lord,” Argus said outside the shelter.
“So, you have told me several times,” Varrick said.
“I mean the monk no harm,” Fia whispered. “Besides, he has a secret to share with us.”
Argus shook his head as he entered the shelter first, carrying the torch that lit their way.
Four bodies occupied the small space, three of which were wrapped ready for burial when the time came. Fia hurried to the only body that lay on the ground uncovered.
She squatted down beside the dead monk. She ran her glance over him when she would have rather it be her hands, seeing what might be hidden somewhere upon him but she worried she would be met with disapproval from both men. She did, however, carefully open his cloak that had been closed over him to expose his robe and heard Argus mumble his displeasure.
Fia was not sure what she was looking for, she only knew something on him contained a secret. She ran her hands along the hem of his cloak to see if something may have been sewn into it and did the same to the hem of his robe and sleeves but found nothing.
Where? Where would the monk have hidden something?
Her glance fell on his boots.
She began to tug at one boot and heard Argus mumble again.
Seeing his wife struggle and Argus uncomfortable, Varrick hurried to help her, wanting this done and his wife back safely in the keep.
He brushed his wife’s hands away and with one tug the boot slipped off and they both stared when they saw a small pouch fall from the boot.
Argus stepped closer, curious, having seen something fall.
Fia snatched up the pouch and with her husband’s hand to her arm helped her to stand. She opened the pouch and peered inside, then she tipped the pouch to spill a small amount of its contents into the palm of her hand.
Argus lowered his head to get a look at what was in Fia’s hand and wrinkled his nose as he pulled back his head. “That stinks.”
“Aye, henbane has a foul odor to it, warning people away from the deadly leaves.”
“Isn’t henbane what almost killed the monk at the abbey?” Varrick asked.
“Aye, I would say it was,” Fia said.
“Then why bring the very poison that almost killed him along with him?” Argus asked, shaking his head.
“That, Argus, is a good question,” Fia said.
CHAPTER 27
Fia stood braced against her husband, his arms wrapped around her as they watched Sinead circle in the sky just after the day broke cloudy, cold, and gloomy.
“I can feel your troubled thoughts,” Varrick said, growing accustomed to how often he could sense what his wife was feeling.
“Three days since discovering the poison on Brother Luke and I still can find no sensible reason for it,” Fia said, discouraged.
“But you continue to believe the poison caused his death.”
She nodded, recalling her discovery. “You saw for yourself the skin rubbed sore on his ankle. It had to have been where the pouch lodged itself day after day and with how worn the pouch was, I have no doubt the poison seeped into the wound eventually causing his death. Unfortunately, that does not answer why he had the poison with him in the first place.”
“Your knowing tells you nothing?”
Fia turned around in his arms. “My mind is so often occupied with you that it thinks of nothing else, makes room for nothing else.”
He smiled, not only pleased with her words but also pleased at seeing that her lips were still puffed red from the powerful kisses they had shared only a short time ago and their bodies both still warm from their arduous lovemaking. He also loved the way her cheeks were pinched red from the cold, adding to her beauty.
He hugged her. “I am grateful for these stolen moments with you.”
“As am I,” Fia said, loving every moment they shared when no one could see how much they truly loved each other.
Sinead squawked overhead and Varrick held his arm out for her to land on, which she did with ease.
“Sinead ate her fill and now it is our turn to feast,” Varrick said and took his wife’s hand.
“I have noticed that Sinead lingers with you lately after her morning flight. She might sense a need to protect you.”
“It is possible. She has done that before battle at times,” he said, glancing at the hawk whose head kept turning, keeping focused on her surroundings.
“Oh,” Fia said, coming to a stop. “People wait for me.”
“And they can continue to wait until you have had your meal,” Varrick said, seeing a line had already formed at the healing cottage.
Sinead squawked and suddenly took flight.
Varrick did not need to turn to know that someone approached. Sinead was not one to be surrounded by too many people.
“Three days and they already realize their mistake in listening to a few disgruntled people,” Marsh said when he came upon them. “And there is no one as skilled as you to tend them, my lady.”