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)
“Don’t matter now,” Latham said. “He’s gone, and he’s not our worry.”
“But what if he wasn’t alone?” a woman asked, clutching her shawl tight at her throat. “What if he lied and brought the witch with him?”
That sparked another round of muttering, heads nodding, voices rising.
“Enough!” Raff turned to face them. The group turned silent. “You’re letting fear speak louder than reason. That’s dangerous. More dangerous than any mark.”
No one responded. They just shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting to one another, to Ingrid, then away again. It wasn’t shouting or pitchforks, but suspicion had a way of settling in like frost, silent and spreading.
He turned back to Ingrid, her face pale but steady.
As they reached her cottage, she spoke in a hushed voice. “They looked at me differently.”
“Some, not all.”
“One is enough to cause trouble.”
“I know,” Raff repeated, gently. “But I see you clearly. I always have.”
She managed a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Behind them, the village held its breath, waiting, watching, wondering who might be next.
CHAPTER 17
Raff held Ingrid snug against him in bed later that night, neither of them able to find sleep. The events of the day still clung to them like a damp chill—heavy, unwelcome, and impossible to shake.
He brushed his lips against her temple, his voice low but firm. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Ingrid, but we need to leave before you’re accused of being a witch and hidden away somewhere I can’t reach you until your fate is decided. I have two friends I fought beside more times than I can count.”
And foolishly made a wish with one drunken night. Though he kept that part to himself.
“Either will help us, I’m sure of it. We can pack your things when we return from market. At first light the next morning, we go. No farewells. No explanations. The less said, the safer we’ll be.”
She was quiet, her fingers curling lightly against his chest. He knew she didn’t want to go. She had built a life here—simple, aye, but meaningful. One thread at a time, she’d woven herself into this place.
“I saw how easily the villagers turned that desperate man away,” Raff continued, a tight edge in his voice. “I fear what they might do to you if accused, to save themselves. We must do this. We must leave.”
“I know there are some who would not raise a voice against me,” she said, her voice soft.
“But would they have the courage to stand against those who do?” he asked, meeting her gaze in the dim light. “Fear makes cowards of good people.”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “But it does frighten me.”
“Then tomorrow we go to market,” he said. “When we return, we pack. And we leave before dawn.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, lingering there for a moment. “I don’t know if it would be wise for us to ever return… or if those here would even want us to.”
Gray morning light stretched across the land as they made their way to market with silence their only companion. Ingrid glanced back once, the village barely visible now through the thin trees and rising mist. Her heart felt a tight squeeze in it. She had planted roots here, shared laughter, sorrow, hope. And yet it all felt as if it had been stripped away in a matter of days. That was the cruelty of fear. It changed people. It rewrote friendships and bred silence where once there had been welcome.
By the time they reached the outskirts of the bustling market, Raff’s jaw was tight with concern. They found a small space for her wares, between a scowling butcher and a jovial woman peddling herbs, and set about preparing the stall. Ingrid arranged her blankets carefully, hands steady despite the unrest in her heart. Though she kept her two fused fingers from anyone seeing them as much as possible.
Raff hovered, uneasy. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said, though she wasn’t sure she believed it.
He hesitated, scanning the crowd. Warriors loitered in clusters. Mercenaries stalked between stalls, eyes always moving. Their presence was too thick, too tense. Trouble lingered here, and Raff could feel it in his bones.
“I’ll be quick and get the village the last of the supplies it needs for winter,” he promised.
He leaned closer, his hand brushing hers. “Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know. If anything feels off, close the stall and keep hidden behind the cart until I return. Do not wander off on your own.”
She nodded, offering a faint smile. He squeezed her hand once and slipped into the flow of the market.
Ingrid stood still for a moment, watching him disappear into the crowd. Then she turned to her blankets, arranging them again though they didn’t need it, but she had to do something, anything, to keep her mind from dwelling on how their lives were about to change forever.