The Sunstone Brooch : Time Travel Romance Katherine Logan (no david read aloud TXT) 📖

the remnants of the ancient civilizations dating back to 800 BC. It always fascinated him to walk the grassy hills, knowing which buildings had crumbled and which ones the community would construct in the future.

He would never walk these ruins with Erik again. He would never hear Erik’s stories or watch him laugh at a simple tale told by another Council member. How often would Tavis be able to get back here to tell those same stories to his son?

That’s why Astrid had to leave with him this time.

“Tavis!”

He turned to see Astrid’s father striding toward him. “I heard you were here. Where is Erik?”

Tavis squeezed Arne’s shoulder. “A grizzly was about to attack Ensley, but Arthfael tried to fight the bear. The stallion succumbed to his wounds. Erik arrived in time to save Ensley, but…he…”

Arne clasped his hand over Tavis’s, and then they both dropped their arms. “He didn’t survive?” Arne glanced off toward the sea, and his face turned ashen as he closed his eyes.

After a moment, he opened them again, and they were glistening. “Before he left, he said it was time for him to go to the other side to be with the elders, and he might take the Keeper with him.” Arne looked at Tavis. “Did he?”

Tavis gave his head a hard shake, trying to jostle Arne’s statement around in his brain until it made sense. “I’m pretty sure he didn’t, but he might have taken James Cullen. The Illuminati might have tortured and possibly killed him.”

“And Ensley? What of her? Was she injured?”

“Elliott’s grandson shot and killed the bear before it could reach her. But Erik didn’t have his cloak when he fought the bear.”

“Where is it now?”

“There was no sign of it anywhere near his body. If I had to guess, I’d say he wrapped it around Elliott’s son.”

Arne fingered the ends of his long mustache. “I doubt the Keeper understands the full power it holds. He’ll either lock it up with the brooches or bury it with his son. Either way, it will be safe. Where is Erik’s garnet brooch?”

Tavis wanted to keep it and hoped it was part of his inheritance. “I have it.”

Arne held out his hand. “The brooch belongs to the Council, not Erik. He has carried it for many years, but it is mine now.”

Tavis didn’t know if that was true or not, but until the Council met and told him what to do, he wasn’t letting it go. He might be making an enemy of Arne, but it was better to piss off one member than all of them.

“I’ll bring it to the Council meeting. If it’s yours, they will give it to you.”

Arne’s brown eyes flared, but he didn’t challenge Tavis. Instead, he said, “Come. I will send word to the others. We must meet immediately to plan Erik’s funeral and settle the matter of his brooch.”

Tavis crossed his arms. “Before I sit down with the full Council, you should know that I won’t participate in raping a slave girl. I haven’t been with my wife in months, and I won’t dishonor her by doing something I find repulsive.”

“Every man in the village will participate.”

“I don’t live here or live by your customs. Erik understood my values, and it would dishonor him to participate in the rape and murder of a child. It’s a tradition that should end right now.” Tavis’s pulse flared, along with his anger, but he moderated his voice to keep Arne from knowing how angry this made him. “Tell the men it’s Erik’s wish.”

“You can argue your position to the Council, and we will vote. Then you will accept the Council’s decision. You are my daughter’s husband, but I will not spare you if the Council decrees you are to accompany Erik to Valhalla.”

Arne’s statement struck swift and deep, and Tavis’s anger flared into a full burn, beckoned from the place in his gut where he’d kept his emotions well-checked until now.

Arne was threatening him, but Tavis didn’t understand why.

They reached Arne’s longhouse, and he lifted the latch and pushed open the door. “Have you seen your son?”

“Astrid just told me. I’ll see the baby after I meet with the Council.”

Tavis followed Arne inside the dark and smoky longhouse, coughing. The stone hearth was located in the center of the longhouse and provided heat, light, and fire for cooking, and was the household’s center of activity. It always took Tavis a couple of days to adjust to the smoky darkness. He nodded to Frida, Arne’s wife, and their two youngest daughters, who were not yet old enough to marry. Frida had two sons between Astrid and her sisters, but neither one survived infancy, which made Tavis’s son Arne’s male heir.

Tavis’s spidey senses were on high alert. It was time to gather his family and get the hell out of here.

The women sat on the compacted dirt floor next to the stone hearth, weaving a multi-colored cloth on weighted looms. The clicking of the stone weights sounded almost like a metronome—click, click, click. The women glanced up when he entered, smiling, and Tavis mustered a faint grin.

Their smiles dropped, and Frida stood and poured ale in carved horn mugs and offered them to Tavis and Arne. “It is good to see you, Tavis. Have you seen your son?”

“Not yet. I just arrived.” Tavis took a long drink then swiped the back of his wrist across his mouth. The ale smelled earthy, not sweet, and was bitter, with a dry taste. After two gulps, warmth from the alcohol flowed down his throat.

“Send our daughters to collect Bjørn, Birger, and Forde,” Arne told his wife. “We have urgent business to discuss.”

Frida asked no questions but alerted her daughters, who grabbed their cloaks and rushed outside.

“Come, sit, and I will prepare some fish.”

“Not yet.” Arne led Tavis over to a bench built into the far wall, the only piece of furniture in the stone-framed longhouse. “You may speak to the others, but then you will leave while