Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“What is your judgment, Your Highness?” Jarek asks, nodding to the sky. The sun is hinting at its descent.
Zander studies it for a long moment. “The village will open the northern gate and allow our company to pass without interference. If any so much as raises a sword, I will burn every inch of this village, with everyone in it.” The bonfires flare to three times their height to emphasize his point.
Gasps sound and the villagers back away. They have no idea what their king is capable of.
Zander mounts his horse. “Should the Ybarisans come this way again, let them know their princess is in the north and looking for them.”
Ten minutes later, the last legionary is passing the northern gates behind our wagons, and Eros canters alongside Zander’s black stallion, our pace separating us from the others by a few horse lengths.
Zander’s mood is as dark as a brewing storm.
“What made you let them go?” I ask gently.
Zander falters, as if searching for a suitable answer. “I fear Islor’s entire fabric is unraveling before our eyes. I cannot see anymore where the line is between right and wrong. If we unleash harsh punishment upon the keepers for their abusive ways, should we not also deliver it to those mortals who plan and enact nothing short of murder?”
“Which would be those people back there.”
“Yes. Passing judgment and conviction should be easy in this case, and yet I find my blade heavy and my words lost. These mortals felt desperate and betrayed by the rule of Islor. By me, for allowing this to happen to their children, to their kin. The crown has abandoned them for the past hundred years, permitting those like Danthrin and Isembert to gain power and influence. And while not all these immortals were outright cruel to them, it only takes some to breed this kind of hatred. In the mortals’ eyes, I am their enemy, and the Ybarisans, their saviors.”
He shakes his head. “These people see only what surrounds them in this tiny town in this mountain range. It’s all that matters. It is their whole world. They cannot see the cascading effect of their actions toward the cataclysmic ruin of Islor.”
“It doesn’t make it okay.”
“No, it does not. But this wildfire of anger and loathing will burn to every corner as my kind reacts from fear and inflicts more pain, cruelty, and injustice. I fear it is too late already. Too late to do anything to stop the momentum of what is to come.” His shoulders sag. “Regardless, I have a caravan of mortals who have not yet committed murder, and I do not feel like adding to the massacre today. Nor do I have time, if we are to get to a safe place before nightfall.
“But Kamstead will not escape punishment. This village, and all others around here, will have an army passing through soon enough, and when the soldiers go to feed and begin to scream, what do you think that army will do?”
“They’ll slaughter them all.” It won’t be worth keeping them alive.
Zander’s expression is grim. “One way or another, these mortals will pay their dues. But we cannot lose our focus.”
“What that guy back there said about waiting until Hudem… why would the Ybarisans tell them to do that?”
“Because it is customary on Hudem that all immortals feed. Hiding the poison until then is the wiser plan.”
“It gives them more time to disperse it through the trade channels without raising alarms.” I see what he means.
“It is fortunate, in a way, that some mortals have not waited. But who is to say how many are? The next Hudem may see far more murders than the last.”
Something Ianca said the first day we met in Bellcross stirs in my mind then.
When the second moon falls asleep and the sun awakes, all will suffer for what they have done.
Could that be what she meant? Was she seeing the aftermath of a massacre?
I’ve never seen Zander this crestfallen yet. My heart feels like a lead weight, watching it. “Stop for a second?”
He slows his horse to a standstill.
“Halt!” a legionary yells, and a cacophony of creaks sound as the long line of wagons stalls behind us.
I hop off Eros, leaving his reins dangling for someone to collect. I don’t care who.
Zander watches as I use the stirrups to hoist myself into his saddle behind him.
I mold my body flush against his and curl my arms around his torso.
He half turns, peering at me over his shoulder, our faces inches apart. “It has been awhile.”
Since the morning after we ran from Cirilea, heading to Gully’s Pass, to be exact.
“I thought you preferred riding alone?”
“Not today,” I whisper, my hands smoothing over his chest, both for distraction and for comfort. “We’ll figure it out together, I promise.”