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)
“You always did say you preferred traveling incognito. How do you enjoy it now?” Abarrane mocks, sizing up the speaker. “Permission to gut him like the animal we roasted on our spit last night, Your Highness?”
The three share a wary glance. She could have them disarmed and disemboweled before they had the chance to raise an alarm. But I imagine it’s the Highness that has them more perplexed.
I sigh. “Please inform your lord that the king of Islor and commander of the Legion are standing outside his gate like drifters, and we wish to speak with him.”
“My sincerest apologies, Your Highness.” The guard bows a third time before rushing out of Theon’s private solar. We didn’t have to wait long before the gate swung open, and Theon’s guards clambered over themselves to lead us here.
“Happy now?”
Abarrane paces around the settee. “I am never happy.”
“I am certain he soiled himself.”
The corners of her mouth twitch. “Maybe a little happy.”
I pause to study the tapestry on the wall, a colorful, floor-to-ceiling depiction of the fates smiting the lands for Ailill and Isla’s folly. Impressive artistry, if not a tad morbid, the plentiful corpses piled at the bottom. In all our years of friendship, I have never been in the lord’s private chambers. When we were young, these were his father’s rooms, off-limits to children.
I haven’t been to see Theon here since he became lord. “I suppose it bodes well that he didn’t lead us straight to the great hall.” A formal and impersonal gathering spot, reserved for announcements and punishments where witnesses are needed.
“Too many ears collecting valuable information in that drafty old room,” comes Theon’s voice from another doorway. “As it is, I’m sure there is a bird taking flight to Cirilea with a message about this audience, as I speak.”
As long as you’re not the one who sent it.
Despite my worries, I smile at one of my oldest friends as he strolls into the long room, dressed in a simple but elegant suit. I haven’t seen him since the day I was to marry Romeria. He hasn’t changed, right down to that odd stripe of gray through his black hair that appeared at six years of age when the blood curse took hold.
But so much else has changed since that day. “Thank you for allowing us a chance to speak.”
“I did not think I had much choice.” We meet halfway and clasp hands. A rather unorthodox move between royalty and subject, but welcome nonetheless. “I will admit that this visit is a surprise yet not entirely unexpected.” He hesitates. “Your Highness.”
“Is that an empty platitude or declaration of continued fealty?”
“That is me trying to keep my head out of the way of two feuding brother-kings’ swords.”
“There is only one king!” Abarrane snaps.
Theon dips his head in deference. “You are correct, Commander. There is only one king, though two claim the title, and both have come to me, demanding Bellcross’s support.”
“So you have heard from Atticus?”
“Of course, I have heard from him. I did not believe what I was reading, even with the king’s seal on the letter, not until my contacts from Cirilea followed up by messenger on horseback two days later to confirm.”
“Yes, I have seen the lies he is spreading.”
“It is not true, then? The Ybarisan princess’s own blood is not behind this new poison that threatens to ruin us?”
I sigh. There is no point denying it. “That part is true.”
“And yet still you protect her?”
“I do.”
His lips purse. “Please grant me permission to speak freely.”
“You do not need to ask that, Theon. Especially not while we are in private.” Given our history of visiting establishments far less savory than the Goat’s Knoll, I’m surprised he would. But I suppose a crown and an army change things. Right now, though, I have neither, and I need his honesty.
“I’ve known you long enough to know you always see reason. Why would you keep this Ybarisan alive and lose everything? Unless what Atticus claims is true, and you are no longer in your right mind?”
“My mind has never been more right.”
Theon raises his hands in surrender, his tone softer. “You are truly in love, then? With the woman who wants to destroy Islor.”
“I …,” I falter, feeling Abarrane’s steely gaze on me. “I am not in love with Princess Romeria of Ybaris.” Perhaps with Romy Watts of New York, but that is neither here nor there.
“Then please, my friend, explain why you had to flee your city and your throne in the night to save this Ybarisan?”
“There are circumstances at play that I cannot reveal at this time, but she must survive at all costs.” I couldn’t begin to wrap my head around how to explain them, even if I wanted to.
Theon takes his time filling three crystal tumblers with amber liquor from a nearby crystal decanter. I wave the offer away, as does Abarrane. He shrugs and collects a glass for himself. “How did a Ybarisan princess’s blood become toxic to our people?”