Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Return to…
Wedderlie
They reached Wedderlie well after midday and they were anything but welcomed, but then it was a Hunter with his troop that now arrived.
Six Hunters rode in formation behind them. The sound of hooves echoed too loudly in the heavily silent village, iron striking stone, leather creaking, weapons shifting as Dar led them to the inn.
Doors were quickly closed. Villagers, brave enough to watch, whispered among themselves. A man hastily turned down a side lane, rushing off, and a woman, eyes wide with fright, pulled her child close and hurried into a cottage.
Elara understood their fear. Though no drums had preceded them, where Hunters landed, people vanished.
Dar did not slow the horse’s determined gait. He rode straight down the village lane, his posture rigid, his gaze forward. He looked every bit what they feared him to be now—a Hunter on the king’s mission.
Dar dismounted when they reached the inn. He gave a quick glance around before he went to Elara. He reached up to take firm hold of her waist and lifted her off the horse, keeping her close after her feet touched the ground.
“A Hunter’s wife would dare not be harmed. You are safe here,” he said, keeping his voice low and his confidence strong. “Besides—”
She quickly finished his words, knowing what he would say. “You will always keep me safe.”
He kissed her then, a swift kiss, but one that spoke loudly. She belonged to the Hunter. She was untouchable.
He took her hand and crossed the short distance to the inn and pushed the door open.
The creak of the old, weathered wood announced their arrival and conversation died instantly when they entered.
Bella stood behind the counter, her eyes turning wide when they fell on Dar, his dark leather garments marking him… a Hunter.
Two men at a corner table went still, one of them already half-rising before thinking better of it. A woman gathering empty trenchers pulled them close to her chest and backed away.
Bella’s eyes shifted to the men behind Dar.
Hunters—six of them draped in black.
Color drained from Bella’s face. “By the saints…” she breathed, then caught herself and dipped into a hurried bow. “How may I serve you, sir?”
“We need rooms,” Dar said. His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of command. “And space for horses.”
Bella nodded at once. “Aye. Aye, of course.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Elara, confusion and curiosity battling fear, then snapped back to Dar. “How many rooms?”
“Four.”
She swallowed. “I’ll see to it.”
As Bella hurried away, Elara felt the inn tighten around them. People avoided looking directly at the Hunters, yet they could not help stealing glances. Fear clung to the air thicker than smoke.
Dar turned to his men and one look had them leaving, to spread throughout the village without a word, as if they had practiced the movement a hundred times—which, Elara suspected, they had.
Dar leaned closer to her. “Wait here.”
Before Elara could respond, he turned and crossed the room in long, deliberate strides. The movement alone was enough to draw every eye. Bella had just returned to the counter with keys in hand when she froze, realizing his attention was now fully on her.
Elara moved closer to hear.
“You’ve had travelers pass through Wedderlie,” Dar said, not as a question.
Bella swallowed. “Aye… folk come and go.”
“Recently,” he pressed. “A man who kept to himself, asked questions, and took interest in the road to Driochmor.”
Her fingers tightened around the keys.
Dar rested one hand flat on the counter. Not threatening. Not gentle. Simply there.
Silence stretched and Bella’s gaze flicked toward the door, then to the Hunters beyond the windows.
Her voice dropped. “There was a man who came through two days past. Didn’t stay the night. Drank alone. Paid well.”
“Where did he come from?” Dar asked.
She shook her head quickly. “He didn’t say. But he asked about the old paths that few know about. The ones folk don’t use anymore. Said he wanted to make sure he avoided them.”
“Where did he go?” Dar asked.
Bella hesitated, as if fearing her response. “Honestly, sir, I don’t know.”
Dar held her gaze a moment longer, weighing truth from fear. Then he nodded once.
Without another word, Dar turned away from the counter and crossed back toward Elara, his presence leaving a trail of unease behind him. Conversations did not resume. They waited.
“I’ll go speak with Dea,” Elara said quietly, before he could say anything. “While you see to your business.”
He studied her for a moment, his gaze flicked briefly toward the windows, to where the Hunters’ shapes shifted beyond the glass.
“Aye,” he said at last.
Dar stepped outside with her, the inn door shutting behind them. The village felt tight, watchful, the presence of Hunters pressing against the edges. He did not let her walk off immediately.
His hand closed around hers, bold and firm. “I will talk with Adelar. If he is the official welcomer, then he had to have spoken to all who entered Wedderlie.”
She nodded, her fingers tightening in his briefly, then letting go, though he held firm not willing to release her hand just yet.
“I will see you safely to Dea’s cottage.”
There was no arguing with him and she didn’t want to.
They shared a strange connection. She didn’t understand, couldn’t say what it was, but it was there between them, she could feel it.
It was possible she felt it from when they first met, since she had trusted him so easily, a certainness of sorts that he meant her no harm.
How odd it was that she so easily accepted, knew without a doubt, that she loved him.
It was impossible to deny it. It was there deep inside her.
To fight against it was foolish. Besides, she didn’t want to.
They had been joined in marriage, and nothing would change that.
But she could not help but think what it was that seemed to connect them, make their marriage seem as if it was meant to be.
Or was she reaching to make sense of the nonsensical?
“Return to the inn as soon as you are done and wait for me there,” Dar said when they reached Dea’s cottage. “And do not dare wander near the forbidden land border.”
“I would not be so foolish,” she said, though the draw of such a strange forest did entice. She could only imagine what knowledge it might hold.
He pressed his brow to hers. “I would travel the nine circles of hell to get to you if necessary. So, stay wise and keep your distance from danger.”
That he would take on the nine circles of hell to find her caught her by surprise and said more than he ever had to her.
“Aye, husband,” she said and leaned up to kiss him gently.
It wasn’t enough for Dar. He desired more and he took it without resistance.
It was a kiss that claimed, demanded, ached, tempted, and that promised more, and Elara’s desire spiked with the same.
He took a heavy breath when his lips left hers. “I have never wanted anything as much as I want you.”
He shook his head as if chasing his thoughts and ordered once again, “Return to the inn when you are done and don’t dally.”
He turned away from her, his jaw set tight, his shoulders drawn back, and his eyes scanning the area as he walked. The Hunter had come fully awake and he strode away ready to hunt.
Elara turned to see Dea standing in the open doorway. The woman smiled and waved her in.
“Honeyed oatcakes and a chamomile brew,” Dea said, taking a seat at the table. “Hang your cloak on the peg and join me. I am eager to hear what news you bring.”
Elara shut the door, placed her cloak on the peg, and took a seat at the table, just as eager to speak to the woman and see what more Dea might know about the healer or even about the man who supposedly disappeared into Driochmor.
However, Dea took charge of the conversation before Elara could speak.
Dea filled both their tankards with the hot brew as she spoke. “I see that your husband is a Hunter and a powerful one, since he leads a troop. If you opened yourself to your visions, you would have seen what he hid.”
“Sorcery is forbidden,” Elara reminded.
“My dear child,” Dea said softly, “Sorcery, magic, witchcraft, whatever name you wish to give it is a natural part of us all, an intrinsic knowledge. It is just stronger in some than others.”
“What you say is heresy,” Elara warned.
“How can what is innate in us be heresy? Why do you think healers are able to heal as they do? Knowledge and instinct. It is why some are drawn to it while others, like yourself, have the ability to see beyond. You have been taught sorcery is evil, so you fear your visions. Yet what harm have they done you? Have they not alerted you to danger, shown you what to expect? They are there to help not hinder, as is your ability to connect with the natural world, the forest, the plants, the animals—the fae folk.”
Elara gasped.
Dea smiled and reached out to give Elara’s arm a comforting pat. “Worry not, I speak freely only to you—one who is beginning to understand the forbidden world.”
Elara sipped her tea wanting to ask questions but was a bit fearful.
“Do not be afraid to question, for to do so is to gain knowledge. It is, after all, what an herb-scribe does,” Dea encouraged.
Elara nodded, an unexpected memory bringing a smile to her face. “My mum and da told me I asked too many questions when I was young though they never discouraged me from doing so.”
“Wise parents.”
Elara’s brow creased. “Sorcery, however, was something avoided, not discussed. Do you know why? And why was it forbidden?”