Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Malachi leans back in his chair.
Saoirse squirms under that heavy gaze.
“You are right.” He snaps his fingers and the rat-eating Saur’goth closes in. “Take twenty of your warriors and round up any mortals who do not wear a cuff. Bring them to the dungeon. Do not concern yourself with being gentle.”
“As you order, Sire!” he barks in that throaty, deep voice and then marches off.
“Thank you, Your Highness.” Saoirse’s bow is even deeper this time. “I will be leaving for Kettling in the morning—”
“So soon?” He cocks his head. “I would not wish you to miss the festivities tomorrow.”
“Oh? I had not heard of any such celebration.”
“That is because I just decided that we shall have one.” He raises his voice. “Everyone!” The room silences instantly. “We will gather in the arena at sundown tomorrow. It is time for a royal competition.” His broad smile and sudden exuberance sparks their round of applause.
Meanwhile, my stomach twists. They have no idea what they cheer for.
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention. That will be all, Lady Saoirse.” He returns to his meal, and after a brief falter, she rushes off.
“What will this competition entail?” I ask lightly.
“Reminding people who is king,” he says through a mouthful.
A pair of servants arrive then with carafes of wine and a fresh platter of poultry.
The one aims to fill my goblet with wine until she notes it’s still full. “Would you prefer ale, Your Highness?” she asks in a timid voice. She is young and pretty, with innocent eyes and full lips.
“No. Be off now,” I reply curtly, hoping she will scurry away before Malachi, who is temporarily distracted by choosing a duck breast over a leg, notices her.
No such luck.
“I would love more wine,” he purrs, holding up his goblet, his hungry gaze tracing her curves.
The stupid girl trips over herself to fill it for him, not seeing the danger she has just invited, the cruelty she will face tonight. But I suppose, why should she? The servant he ordered to his chambers last night did not live to talk about what he did to her.
What he made me watch.
What Elijah was forced to witness his own hands accomplish.
“If I may be excused, I must send that message to your army.” With one last pitiful look at the servant, I rush out of the dining hall, glad to be away.
The air is frigid in the garden tonight. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders as I take the long way, along winding paths and through the cedar labyrinth, stalling at the roses to check last night’s work. I won’t know if it was enough until the new season when the sleeping bushes awaken. The servants ramble about their splendor in the warm months.
On and on I continue, wishing for one night I could lose myself in here until dawn and avoid whatever cruel lesson Malachi will no doubt wish to teach me. But I must endure it for Elijah’s sake, for what he has endured is far worse.
A shout sounds somewhere beyond my vision, and then blades clash. More than one. There is an attack happening within the castle grounds.
I rush to follow the sound of the ruckus, weaving through the labyrinth until it opens to the nymphaeum ahead. Five forms stand over the six dead Saur’goth soldiers stationed at the stone door we use to travel back and forth to Soldor—two males, including the exiled king who arrived on his dragon, and three females.
One is a young woman with silver eyes.
My shield is up in my next breath, and my affinities crackle under my skin. I know who this is. “The little pilgrim has returned.” And she knows how to use this door. Though I suspected as much when I heard rumors of hundreds of children disappearing the day of the rebellion.
They adjust their stance, blades raised and their intentions clear.
Romeria’s face pales slightly as she watches me approach, the hem of my black silk dress—her dress once, likely—dragging through the damp grass.
“It is good to see you again.”
Her eyes narrow. “The feeling’s not mutual.”
So this is how it will be then, little thief … “I will say, I prefer your previous form. She was prettier.”
“That’s the best you’ve got? Petty insults?” she throws back. “I thought you had more class.”
I answer with a toothy smile. “I am dealing with a clueless child, after all.”
“Not anymore. And you? You’re a monster. You stabbed a clueless child in the chest and sent her into the body of a princess who killed the king and queen. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve nearly died since that night?”
“I had faith you would not.” And besides, Malachi gave me so few details, I didn’t know exactly how dangerous it would be.
“How could you do that?” she seethes.