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)
Elisaf watches Jarek’s back. “They do when they’re coming to take a measure of someone.”
That someone being me, obviously. “What do you know about him?” I didn’t see so much as a scratch on him—and I saw most of him earlier—which means none of the blood he washed off that sculpted body was his.
“He is a fierce warrior, as brutal with his blade as Abarrane. His lineage comes from Skatrana. Ancestors who happened to be in these lands when the blood curse ran rampant and the Great Rift tore Ybaris in two. He hails from Lyndel, born to an army officer.”
“His affinity?”
“I’ve heard it is to Vin’nyla.”
“The goddess of air.” I picture the stone statue in the sanctum, the curvy woman with butterfly wings. “How strong?”
“I hazard it’s as ineffective as most affinities granted under the blood moon.”
Parlor tricks, as Annika once called the Islorians’ affinities. Except for Zander, it seems. He could engulf half this camp in flames with just a spark from that cook fire.
“Regardless, he would never use it. None of these warriors use their affinities. They consider relying on the fates a weakness in battle.”
Another warrior watching me says something to Jarek. The second-in-command tips his head back and laughs. It’s a boisterous and yet vicious sound, and it makes my cheeks flame, knowing I’m at the butt of their joke.
“I think it’s safe to say he doesn’t like me.”
“Jarek’s father died in the Valley of Bones, battling Ybaris and Mordain in the last great war when Jarek was just a boy. He holds a passionate hatred for both. Be careful of that one.”
“You think he’d go against Abarrane’s order?” Assuming Abarrane has told them I’m off-limits, and if she refrains from killing me herself.
“No.” Elisaf’s headshake is firm. “He will follow her orders to his death, even before the king’s, as will all legionaries. But he is second-in-command now, which means he will replace Abarrane should she fall, and I fear his loyalty to Zander isn’t as infallible.” Elisaf tears another strip of meat off with his teeth.
“Does Zander know this?”
“There is very little Zander doesn’t know. Though, that seems to be changing lately.” When Elisaf notes how I’m eyeing him, his chewing slows, realization dawning. He swallows. “I don’t suppose Romeria Watts from New York City lived off twigs and berries.”
“No, she lived off Quarter Pounders and street meat, and she would kill for a bite of that right now.”
“I will not pretend to understand what you just said, but you devouring wild boar would certainly stir unwanted questions.”
“But I’m so hungry.” I lean in and inhale.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “If you really want some, I will bring you a piece once we are in the privacy of a tent,” he promises, adding, “though I doubt Princess Romeria’s body will appreciate it later.”
“Yeah, well, she better learn to adjust because I’m tired of living her life.”
“And yet Zander is right. She is the best cover for you right now, given recent revelations. Unless you’d like Abarrane to test her dagger on your skin again.”
My focus veers to where the commander stands at the river’s edge, her back to it, her head swiveling between the camp and her tent. A sentry on guard, ready to spring at any second, despite a still-oozing wound. There is one other person in this camp she might trust less than me, and that’s Queen Neilina’s elemental caster.
As if sensing my attention, her sharp eyes dart to me and narrow, assessing.
Whatever ground I gained with her that day of the royal hunt is lost, leaving us at odds again. I doubt she’ll be willing to train me to fight, something I’m in desperate need of learning if I’m to survive in this world.
I need to remind her of that day we fought together against the nethertaur. She needs to remember that I’m not the enemy, that I can be a powerful ally. How powerful, she has no idea, but neither do I. I need to—
The surge of adrenaline floods my body a second before a wave rises from the river’s surface and sweeps over Abarrane, drenching her from head to toe.
“Oh hell.” My gold ring is warm against my skin, my stomach twisting in knots.
Warriors shout and draw their weapons, moving into a defensive stance, searching the trees for the unseen enemy.
“You did not,” Elisaf chides.
“I didn’t mean to!” Why did I just do that? It’s not going to help my cause.
A look of cold shock stalls Abarrane for one … two … three seconds before her hate-filled gaze swings to me. She marches toward us, her dagger suddenly in hand. Even with her heavy limp, she’s menacing.
Elisaf curses, scrambling to his feet, drawing his sword.
“I didn’t mean to!” I echo myself, though I doubt she hears me. I doubt she cares. But if she harms so much as a single skin cell on Elisaf …