Total pages in book: 13
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 11696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 58(@200wpm)___ 47(@250wpm)___ 39(@300wpm)
All seemed quiet, but for the crackling of the flames and the thundering of her heart.
Until the ogre shouted, “Face me! So I might pick her flesh from my teeth with your splintered bones!”
On the far side of the clearing, a solid shadow emerged from the trees. The bulk of the ogre’s body and the glare of the fire blocked Flora’s view, and she had only the impression of hardened muscle and a gleaming broadsword before the ogre charged. The strike of stone against steel rang a fast and furious peal, underscored by deep grunts and the ogre’s furious roar. For an instant, Flora watched the battle with her heart lifting and lifting, buoyed by the hope that her rescue had come—then her heart lodged sickeningly in her throat as she realized that whatever had slaughtered the first ogre might be worse than they were.
Wildly she fought against her bindings, but her struggles only managed to dislodge the cord wound around her head. She spit the gag from her dry mouth. Her heaving breaths came harsh and loud, her world narrowing to the bite of rope into her skin, the slickness at her wrists that must be blood but she didn’t stop fighting, praying the blood would lubricate her bindings enough to wrest her hands free.
Then awareness seeped in that all was quiet again.
The ogre was dead. A small whimper escaped her throat when she spotted the giant’s bloodied body—and then his head, the severed neck dripping gore, as it was tossed aside with a flick of the other combatant’s wrist. A human, Flora saw and gave a sudden sob of relief.
But her relief only lasted until the warrior turned toward her, and the fire cast its orange light over his face. A face she knew too well.
Brom the Stonehearted.
Fresh agony split open her heart, a pain made all the worse because of the joy that came with it—the joy that Flora couldn’t help but feel every time she saw him, the joy that had accompanied her nearly every moment that she’d spent with Brom over the past two months. Flora’s uncle had wanted to form an alliance with the barbarians that had settled in the wilderness east of the Kingdom of Innis, and so her cousin, Prince Vash, had made the initial foray into that territory. Once there, Vash had befriended the leader of the Stoneheart Clan, then persuaded Brom and a dozen of his warriors to travel to Innis and begin negotiations with the king—and the day of Brom’s arrival marked the day that Flora made the most devastating mistake of her life.
She’d begun to hope.
It had been by King Martas’s order that Flora had served as Brom’s guide and companion whenever Prince Vash was unavailable, a command that had initially terrified her. She’d long known that her uncle intended to one day marry her off to cement a political alliance, and that he wouldn’t care what sort of man her husband would be. Wouldn’t care if he was cruel or cold, faithless or weak. As long as Flora’s marriage strengthened his own position, King Martas would force her to wed. So it was with dread that she’d met the barbarian warrior her cousin brought home.
Yet instead of cruel or weak, Brom proved honorable and strong. And—complete and utter fool that she was—Flora had begun to dream of a future where she might be wanted and valued by her husband. Maybe even cherished by him.
Never before had she dared dream of such happiness. Yet each hour she’d spent with Brom had given her courage. Each time he’d sought her company on her daily hunts. Each time he’d chosen the seat next to her at the king’s table. Each time she’d made him grin, or when she’d teased out his deep and rumbling laugh. Each time his dark gaze had settled on her lips, and his big body seemed filled with the same hot tension that kept Flora’s senses in a constant, burning grip. And in the recent weeks, as their conversations had deepened and she’d revealed more of her private thoughts and feelings to him, the looks he’d given had appeared almost…tender. As if he might have begun to care for her. As if he might have even begun to cherish her. At least a little.
So five days ago, when her uncle had informed Flora that he intended to offer her hand to Brom and negotiate her bride price, pure joy had engulfed her heart. With giddy anticipation, she’d waited outside the chamber where King Martas and his councilors sat with Brom and his warriors, hammering out the details of an alliance. She’d trembled with happiness as her uncle proposed a marriage between Brom and Flora in order to solidify the new ties between their people.
And in a voice colder than any she’d heard from him before, Brom had refused.