The Pretend King (The Norman Invasion Book 2) by Arms A.V

Author:Arms, A.V.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harper Woods Publishing
Published: 2020-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

July 12, 1058, Tresche

She tried not to let the giggle escape. Holt would be sorry he ever told Kimball she was the one that had shot the arrow into the family tapestry. It was entirely an accident, but Kimball did not see it that way when she wasn’t supposed even to have a bow and arrows. She knew the little snitch would be passing by shortly to meet with his sweetheart at the village market. Aiden would be with him, so they needed to get rid of Graham, who would tell on them if he knew they were going to the market and wouldn’t let him go. If they included him, he was as loyal as a puppy. She almost snickered at the thought of Aiden patting his leg and calling Graham to his side.

She could tell on Holt, but she would not stoop to his level. He was target practising just like she was with the bench that sat in the long hallway. The seat turned on its side was the perfect target for the arrows. On a day they were not allowed outside, they had to do something to pass the time. Of course, they did not consider the tapestry and the hole that resulted. There was no hiding that.

They’re coming. Ash nearly giggled again.

She kept her mouth shut then. And she wouldn’t tell on them now, though Landry could put a stop to their venture to the market. They were only allowed to go to the village with permission and the escort of at least one of the older brothers. Holt would never be allowed to go to the market by himself. But this revenge would be so much sweeter than telling, she thought, stifling another giggle that threatened as the steps came ever closer.

There was only one, so Aiden probably had to keep Graham busy so that Holt could keep his rendezvous with his sweetheart. It was a meeting her brother couldn’t stop talking about when he was with Aiden and Graham. Holt kept saying the girl was loose, and any number of meanings to that statement had entered her mind. Her best guess was she wore her clothes in a loose manner, which explained why he was also eager to see beneath her skirts.

Ash had managed to sneak red dye from the laundress, and now had two buckets ready, one in her hands, another at her feet. One she could use, the second was just if she had a chance to throw it before she had to run. She leaned against the smooth bark of the giant oak tree. It was a landmark. The bend in the road as it wrapped around its giant trunk attested to its longevity. It marked the border of private Tresche land. Kimball was generous in that he allowed his people to hunt, except for a small portion surrounding the manor house. The Oak was the westernmost marker of that patch of land. It had been standing proudly over the area for many generations.

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