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Snow watched the gray blur that was her husband walk away and scrunched her eyes. Was that a shape she saw? It certainly appeared to have form. Her hand went to rest on her stomach as if somehow her touch could calm the excited flutters that flourished there. Was it possible? Was more of her vision returning? Even if it was only shapes she saw, that would be wonderful. It would make it so much easier for her to get around, to navigate unfamiliar places, and allow her to be less dependent on others.

She hoped it was so, but she didn’t want to let herself get too excited and she certainly didn’t intend to share the spark of hope only to disappoint others. She would wait and see what came of it, and pray.

Snow settled her hands around the warm tankard a servant placed in front of her and waited impatiently to hear something, anything, of what was going on. Gray blurs passed by her, some rushed, others slow, but it was the whisper that wasn’t a soft whisper that caught her attention.

“His appetite is great. She will never be enough for him.”

“Unlike me, who can please him in ways that would shock her.”

Snow didn’t recognize the one voice. It was too hushed, though she could tell it was a woman. The other voice she recognized, it was Fasta.

“She will be gone soon,” the hushed voice said as if certain.

“Not soon enough.”

A slight shiver ran through Snow at Fasta’s reply. The unknown woman was quite sure that Snow would soon be gone from here while Fasta wanted Tarass in her bed. Or was it that she wanted him back in her bed? Had Tarass coupled with the servant? In what ways could Fasta please Tarass that Snow couldn’t? She certainly didn’t have vast experience when it came to coupling, but things seemed to come naturally when making love with her husband. If she lacked some way in making love, she’d want to know about it.

The voices trailed off as the gray blurs walked away.

Snow had no doubt that both women intended her to hear them. They also probably thought that she would say nothing to her husband, too embarrassed or too proper to dare discuss coupling with him. They were wrong.

“It is cold, windy, and deep with snow out there,” Nettle said as she approached Snow after entering the Great Hall.

Thaw barked and ran around the table, his front paws landing on Snow’s leg and a low whimper coming from him as he looked at her.

“My goodness, he is an intelligent pup. He senses that you’re upset and I see that you are. But, of course, you are. How could you not be? Everyone else is. Another pool of blood being found does not bode well for the clan,” Nettle said, her voice filled with worry.

Snow was relieved that Nettle surmised her worry was related to the news of the pool of blood. She hadn’t planned on telling anyone, but her husband, of the conversation she had heard between the two women.

“What is being said?” Snow asked eager to find out anything she could as she gave Thaw a hug to let him know she was fine.

Nettle sat opposite Snow and kept her voice low. “They fear that until the dwarfs get the knowledge they seek more will die.”

“There was a body with the blood?”

“No, only the pool of blood, but most believe a body will be found soon enough.”

“Are all accounted for in the clan?” Snow asked, praying everyone was safe.

“Lord Tarass has ordered a count, though no one has reported anyone missing,” Nettle said, sounding relieved.

“Let’s hope it remains that way.”

“If the tale about the dwarfs are true, I hope they’ve found the knowledge they seek and are well gone by now,” Nettle said, a shudder running through her.

That was the ultimate question. The pools of blood meant something, but what? The last time she and Tarass had discussed the pools of blood, she had thought it more a warning for Tarass about his parents’ deaths, but she wondered if someone could be seeking knowledge. Could the pools of blood indicate that knowledge had been found? But what knowledge could be learned from a dead man with markings? And no body had been found with the first pool of blood or so far with this third pool of blood. So what could either of them represent?

The noise of the servants busy placing dishes of food on the table intruded on Snow’s thoughts.

“If she needs anything else, you’ll have to come get it, Nettle. I’m too busy to be doing your chore.”

Snow recognized Fasta’s snappish voice and this time she spoke up. “Your chore is to serve in the Great Hall and you will do so or I will have you assigned a different chore.”


Tags: Donna Fletcher Mcardle Sisters of Courage Romance