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)
She hesitates, biting her lip before a slow smile escapes. “Yes, Your Highness.”
I decide I like her. “What’s your name?”
“Eden, Your Highness.” Her thin frame is still rigid, as if ready to bolt at my first request.
I lean against the wall, trying to soften the mood. “You just sit here all night? In case Lady Danthrin needs something?” How exhausting that would be.
“That is one of my duties, yes.”
How many duties does Eden have? The heavy bags under the young girl’s blue eyes suggest too many. “Does she call you a lot?”
“Rarely. Lady Danthrin is a deep sleeper.” She shrugs. “But it allows me time to knit. One of the other servants in the household is having a baby. I want to surprise her with a sweater when she returns from Cirilea. I should have it ready in time.” Eden holds up the woven scrap that looks nothing like a sweater yet, the move drawing my attention to her angry scar again.
She must be talking about Gracen.
“What happened to your hand?” I ask as gently as I can.
“Oh. Nothing, I just … I was silly.” She tugs at her sleeve to hide the mottled skin.
She’s covering for Danthrin, which boils my blood. But that’s what she feels she needs to do to survive. I know what that’s like.
What will happen when Danthrin returns without Gracen and the children? Is this poor girl primed to follow in her footsteps?
“Why don’t you come for a walk with me? I need a guide to the stables.”
Eden glances at the wall of bells.
“She’s a deep sleeper, right? And if she does wake up, you can blame me.”
With hunched shoulders, Eden collects a lantern from a table and leads me out a different door from the one we entered.
The night air is cool, almost enough to require the cloak I left hanging on a hook upstairs. I don’t recognize this side of the house; the torches casting a dim light over a small but manicured garden.
“Lady Danthrin has quite the green thumb. She spends much time out here.” Eden moves along the narrow path through the floral landscape. Wafts of jasmine and mint stir my senses, and crickets sing in my ears.
“It’s beautiful.” So contrary to the noble who nurtures it.
A shift in the shadows pulls my eyes left where a legionary leans against a tree, watching us.
Eden notices him a second after I do and jumps.
He doesn’t so much as flinch, or smile, or try to appease her in any way.
“Don’t worry, they won’t hurt you.”
Her laugh is breathy, nervous. “My father once told me stories of the Legion warriors, and none of them were particularly comforting. This way to the stables, Your Highness.” She guides me along a garden path and beneath a vine-covered trellis. As we round corners and move farther away from the garden, the floral scent gives way to horses and hay, the crickets to whinnies and soft, rhythmic snores.
We pass the wagon where Jarek was occupied with his tributary, but it’s vacant now. Still, my cheeks burn with embarrassment, knowing I’ll likely hear about my spying later from the abrasive warrior.
Gesine is where I saw her last, sitting on the barrel, her slim body slumped, her hands trembling as they hover over Zorya’s damaged eye.
“Is that the king’s healer?” Eden whispers.
“A high priestess. Yes.” A lie, but maybe also the truth now because she’s as valuable a tool to Zander as I will be when I know what the hell I’m doing.
“I’ve never seen one before.”
“Yeah? Well, now you’ll see an exhausted one who’s about to collapse.” I shake my head as I march toward her.
Zorya sits on a stack of wooden crates, watching us with a severe gleam as we approach. She cradles her leather eye patch in her hands.
“Gesine, you’ve done enough for the day,” I say.
Of course, Gesine doesn’t answer, her focus undeterred.
I sigh, shifting to the warrior. “She’ll be no good to the Legion like this. She needs to rest now.”
The warrior’s jaw clenches. “We are done for the day, witch.”
Another few beats pass and Gesine’s hands drop.
A strangled sound escapes Eden’s throat at Zorya’s damaged eye staring back at us. The enemy blade cut right through the center, splitting her iris. Now it’s nothing more than a cloudy gray mass with a line through it.
“They need to be at their strongest for what is to come.” Gesine’s lids are heavy.
“But you already know you can’t fix that.”
“It was worth a try.”
I shake my head at the stubborn caster. Is she doing this to win the Legion’s trust? Or maybe Zander’s? Regardless, she’ll be lucky if she can climb the steps. She’s barely staying on the barrel. “Can you help her to our room?”
When Zorya doesn’t move, I push, “Please?”
Zorya slips on her leather patch with a grim smirk and stands. Grabbing hold of Gesine’s arm, she throws it over her shoulder and hauls the caster to her feet, her treatment not gentle.