Total pages in book: 182
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171176 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 856(@200wpm)___ 685(@250wpm)___ 571(@300wpm)
At the end of the week, I was finally ready with my Granny lookalike coating. It was time to unveil it to the queen.
I let myself out of Weston’s chambers, where I now spent my nights. The hall was deserted, as it was most mornings.
Constantly rolling around inside my head were various ideas of things I could improve, things I could attempt, and various new insights I’d gleaned from working with the genius that existed in that work shed.
I’d been so caught up in my work that it took me a minute to notice the presence behind me, a soft footfall on the hard wood.
I glanced back, vaguely recognizing the uniform colors—burnt orange, which meant food collection for the kitchen staff. What were they doing all the way down this hall? Usually, Burt took care of that at a “decent” hour, finding me in the work shed or tracking me down in the library, but maybe they were changing things up. Were they sent to inquire personally if I needed anything?
Slowing a little, I started to turn to ask just that.
The man, not much taller than me, with a slight build—definitely not a dragon—had slicked-back hair, allowing me to see his pockmarked cheeks, indicating bad skin in his youth. Which was . . . odd for a shifter. Maybe he’d been here during the curse, suppressed within the castle and unable to heal.
He slowed with me, his head tipped down and his dark eyebrows lifted so that he could peer at me from under them. That was usually the sign that the staff didn’t want to be intrusive.
So then . . . not here for me.
Frowning, wondering if maybe he was dropping off an early dish for someone’s valet or maid, I turned back around and picked up the pace again. His footfalls sped up as well, though he kept a respectable distance.
I resumed thinking about my concoctions, but the ideas were splintered; I was too distracted by the man to regain my focus.
“Something isn’t right with that one,” my wolf said, pulling forward what was niggling at me.
His gait had been off for a member of the castle staff, hadn’t it? His lack of poise.
Often workers in the castle had straight posture and an air of busy importance, or so I’d always thought. Even the people who dusted and swept seemed to embody the grandness of the establishment. This guy sort of . . . lumbered, his shoulders rounded and his weight shifting from one foot to the other with each step, as though he were looking for a street brawl.
I glanced back again, finding his red-brown eyes focused on me. A sudden wave of unease washed through me right before his gaze sliced right and he dropped his head again, slowing his walk.
“I don’t sense danger,” my wolf said.
Neither did I. But all the same, thoughts of Granny flashed through my mind. There hadn’t been any other instances since the drugs flooded the market a week ago, but that didn’t mean she’d retreated. She would have people watching, wouldn’t she? Keeping tabs on me?
My breath came faster as I debated what to do. Should I just accost him, maybe? Ask his name and demand to know why he was in this hall? It might be as simple as his being someone’s bed bunny and trying to get out before he was noticed. Then again, it could be someone learning my schedule.
What if he had a weapon, though? What if he had backup waiting around some of the corners I had yet to turn down or pass? I had barely started training. I was in no shape for knife work if he had one on him. Right now, he was keeping his distance. I had room to run.
Biting my lip in indecision, I waited a little longer, until I was near the foyer. If I got into trouble, someone would see me.
I slowed, then stopped to turn. His footfalls lightened and then stopped. I had spun just in time to see his clothes hit the floor, as though the person inside them vanished.
“There!” my wolf shouted as a bit of fabric moved.
A rat ran out of the neck hole, scurrying away down the hall at blinding speeds. I didn’t even know shifters could be rats. Or that rats could run that fast.
“Move!” my wolf shouted, tearing at me to get out of the way. “Let me out. I’ll catch him.”
I ripped at my clothes, barely getting them off before my wolf had taken over. She put on a burst of speed, sprinting down the hall in the direction the rat had run. In the moment it took to shift, though, we’d lost sight of him.
She stopped at his clothes, picking up his scent before taking off again.
“What if he’s leading us into a trap?” I said frantically as she reached the first corner and sniffed.