It had to be no more than a threat, but he said it with such conviction that she believed he would actually do it, though it would take much strength. Was she underestimating him? Was there more to him than she saw?
He was right about Wedderlie. It wasn’t a safe place, and he had agreed to go there with her. So, it would be wise of her to remain by his side once there.
She nodded. “I will stay close.”
The blue specks in his gray eyes flashed brighter as he said, “And you will continue to be my wife. As unpredictable as Wedderlie can be, there is a respect for wedded women. No man will touch another man’s wife. Besides, those Hunters we ran across believe us to be so. There is no telling if we might run into them again.”
He made sense and the added protection of being his wife, though pretended, would offer the safety she needed while carrying out her search for the healer.
“Then let us not dally, husband, but get on with our task,” she said, accepting his suggestion.
A slight smile tickled his lips as he said, “Barely a wife and already she dictates to me.” And he stretched his hand out for her to lead the way.
Elara chuckled and walked ahead of him, though he fell in step beside her.
The forest was quiet and felt watchful. Had it fallen silent to listen to them, hear their words, understand what they intended to do and be prepared?
Elara kept an even pace and a silent tongue as they walked, her mind chaotic with thoughts while trying to ignore the ghost of Dar’s touch, when he had pulled her close, and the kiss that wasn’t real but felt real. And it made her wonder why, in a time of such turmoil, her thoughts lingered on the wanderer.
Chapter Eight
Wedderlie
Edge of the Forbidden Land
* * *
The forest thinned as they walked, giving way to a wide slope bathed in pale morning light. The mist drifted higher, revealing rooftops below, dozens of them, smoke rising in neat curls against the sky.
Elara slowed to a stop, a whisper falling from her lips. “Wedderlie.”
It wasn’t what she expected. The village spread wide, thatched roofs well-kept, and market stalls bright with wares. Children ran laughing through the lanes. Women drew water from a well, lingering to talk. There was no sense of decay or fear—only abundance.
Dar came to stand beside her. “You look surprised.”
“I am,” she said, confusion in her eyes. “You made it sound like a foreboding place.”
His eyes narrowed as he studied the scene below. “Aye, that’s what it should be.”
She glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
He pointed to the surrounding fertile land. “Do you see any planting fields?”
Elara frowned, scanning the landscape. The land beyond the village lay untouched, thick in parts with heather and other parts wild growth. No furrows, no ploughed earth, no livestock grazing.
Dar’s voice dropped, steady but edged. “No crops. Few animals. And yet they thrive.”
Elara’s stomach tightened. “Perhaps they trade with other villages.”
“There are no villages nearby,” he said. “Wedderlie sits too close to the border of the forbidden land. No one comes here unless they must.”
“Then where?—”
“Do they get their food?” he finished for her. His gaze shifted toward the distant, mist-veiled ridges. “Or who do they owe their abundance to?”
A prickle ran down her spine as the question hung between them, heavy as the silence that followed.
Dar touched her arm lightly, his eyes still on the village. “Stay close, wife.”