Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
They had both spoken of it before but not since and it needed to be discussed again. The only one who could truly help them, make sense of things, would be the witch. She only hoped they hadn’t waited too long to speak with her.
A sharp knock broke her thoughts. She went and opened the door to find Hamish standing there, his expression grave.
“We need to get you to the keep,” he said without preamble.
Her heart leapt with worry. “What’s happened? Is Declan—”
“He’s fine. For now. But there’s talk in the village,” Hamish said, glancing past her toward the closed door as if wary of being overheard. “Word’s spread about your marriage not being valid before today. And that you and Declan were seen at the ring of stones.”
Aura’s stomach tightened. “So?”
“So,” he said, lowering his voice further, “Cleric William’s caught wind of it. And there are whispers—about witches. He wants to speak with you.”
The air seemed to thicken around her. Did he think her a witch? She found the thought laughable, but it was no laughing matter.
“We best put a quick stop to any talk about witches,” she said, grabbing her cloak and stepping out into the fading light.
Hamish nodded and mumbled, “If it’s not already too late.”
CHAPTER 18
The Great Hall was quiet when Aura stepped inside with Hamish, but it was the kind of quiet that carried weight. A few villagers lingered along the walls, their eyes glancing toward her before quickly looking away, and Freyda sat at one of the many tables, worry in her eyes.
Cleric William stood near the dais, his hands folded, his expression unreadable. Declan was beside him, arms crossed, his stance protective.
“You sent for me?” Aura asked, her voice steady.
William inclined his head. “I did. There are… matters I wish to discuss with you, my lady.”
Declan’s gaze sharpened. “These whispers you heard are meaningless.”
“Whispers of witches are never meaningless,” William said, his eyes not leaving Aura. “Whispers travel quickly. Word of the ring of stones. Word of talismans. Potions. The rowan sticks some of your villagers now carry tucked in their belts, and all this learned from a simple walk through your village to see if anyone was in need of a cleric.”
Aura kept her chin lifted. “Rowan wards off ill luck. That is a long-held belief.”
“Belief,” William echoed, as though tasting the word. “Or witchcraft?”
Her jaw tightened. “Is there harm in it if it brings comfort?”
“There is harm when comfort gives way to heresy,” he said, his tone sharpening just enough to cut. “A woman with a keen interest in plants and potions, making charms for protection… one might mistake such things for witchcraft.”
Declan stepped forward, his stance protective, his voice hard. “Enough. You’ll not accuse my wife on the weight of idle gossip that breeds fear.”
He moved to walk to his wife’s side and suddenly lost his footing. In an instant, he pitched forward… face-first onto the floor at Aura’s feet.
A startled gasp swept the hall. Declan pushed at the ground, trying to rise, but his arms trembled as though some unseen weight pressed him down.
Aura dropped to one knee beside him. “Declan—”
“I’m fine,” he ground out, but when he tried again, he barely managed to lift himself before sinking back.
It wasn’t until Aura stepped away that he finally managed to get his knees beneath him and rise, his breathing tight.
The room buzzed with whispers.
“Like the women before…”
“The curse… it’s turned on him.”
Cleric William shook his head, his gaze never leaving Declan. “Your wife… has cursed you.”
For a heartbeat, the Great Hall was silent, the cleric’s words hanging heavy in the air. Then the murmurs began—soft, hissing, and urgent.
Aura’s back stiffened. “That is a lie,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her chest.
William’s eyes narrowed. “You are skilled with plants, talismans, potions. You’ve been to the ring of stones. And now the curse that once brought women to fall at his feet has turned upon him. If that is not your doing, whose is it?”
Declan stepped forward, placing himself squarely between them but a safe distance from Aura.
“Enough.” His voice rang through the hall, low and dangerous. “You’ll not speak of my wife that way again.”
William didn’t flinch. “I speak only what is plain to see.”
“Then perhaps your eyes don’t see clearly,” Declan shot back. “She is no witch. She is my wife, and she is under my protection.”
The whispers sharpened, darting from mouth to mouth like sparks seeking dry tinder.
Someone muttered, “Protection won’t save him if she’s cursed him.”
Declan turned, sweeping the crowd with a glare that made several drop their gaze to their boots. “Every man and woman in this hall know Aura has done nothing but help this village with her growing knowledge, from working with the healer to helping Ruth improve her cooking.”
Several people smiled and nodded at that as well as Ruth, who had stepped out of the kitchen along with other servants to listen to the cleric.