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)
She could be lying to me, but my gut says she’s not. “Why did you agree to come to Kier?” A question that has been burning a hole in my mind all day, after meeting with Zander. “It is a long and dangerous route, and yet you arrived here alone.”
“You assume I had a choice?”
“Your king ordered it. I understand that. But why? Kings usually do not sacrifice valuable assets simply for curiosities.”
“I am not that valuable. Many more can replace me.” Her attention returns to the sky. “Did you know that my kind once lived in these lands?”
“I did not. But there seems to be much I do not know,” I admit.
“It is true. Many millennia ago, until the shadow swallowed the light.” She narrows her focus.
“What do you see up there?”
“Promises and dreams. Omens and futures.”
“Can you see my future?”
“Yes, and it is very short now. Your brethren arrive.” She stands and, collecting her pillow, vanishes into the night, leaving me cold from her words.
I have little time to digest them, though, as shouts sound around the camp.
Two dark forms approach from the west, blotting out the stars beyond. I search for the third, but don’t see it anywhere.
Someone calls for the archers to ready. “Don’t fire at them, you idiots!” I yell, scrambling toward the clearing as the ground trembles with their landing. “That will do nothing but earn yourselves a quick death.”
From the darkness, four solemn figures emerge, Zander and Romeria a step ahead while Jarek and Abarrane flank their sides. All four wear hard expressions.
I can just make out the shape of the beasts waiting behind them. Could that truly be Bexley, or was that some twisted joke? I think back to the owner of the Goat’s Knoll, to her svelte curves and her fearless demeanor. I had explored every inch of that body. There is no possible way this was hiding within.
Is there?
“You have made good time,” Zander says by way of greeting. So many sharp words must be cutting his tongue, waiting for release, yet he focuses on the pressing issue. A part of me wishes he would just lay it all out before me—every accusation and threat that bubbles inside him. I could accuse him of all the vital secrets he kept from me, truths that might have led us down a different path. But who am I kidding? If I had known that Romeria was a key caster, I would have acted sooner.
“We did. Have you found Annika?”
The pain that lances Zander’s face at mention of our sister is unmistakable.
“I should have killed him when I had the chance.” I pace around my tent, my anguish blistering as I try not to visualize Annika’s last horrifying moments, relayed by the sailors who helped kill her.
“Then she would likely be in Malachi’s grips now, and I fear what he would have done with her,” Zander says quietly.
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “Where is this captain now?”
“In Xiaric’s belly,” comes the cold answer. “The crew has also been punished. The Tempest will never set sail again.”
Though it won’t bring our sister back. I wish I had been kinder and made more time for her.
The tent flaps open and King Cheral enters without preamble, followed by Tuella. I’m surprised Jarek and Abarrane allowed them in so easily, but I’m glad they did. “Good evening, I heard you had arrived.” Irritation laces his voice.
Zander holds up his hands in a sign of surrender. “No disrespect meant in meeting with Atticus first. I was informing him of our sister’s fate, and I thought it best to do it in private.”
King Cheral’s expression softens. “I suppose that means the news was not pleasant.”
“It was not.” Zander replays what he told me.
“By sea sirens, you say?” Tuella asks, her black eyes revealing nothing. “That is certain?”
“Several sailors saw her pulled under.” Zander’s voice hitches, a rare display of emotion. It wears on him. All of this wears on him. That he has continued down this path, rallying for Islor when it all but chewed and spat him out, is honorable.
This is why he was always meant to be Islor’s king. What a fool I was to think he needed saving.
“I am sorry for your loss.” King Cheral bows, deeper than I imagined any king capable of.
Zander pauses, regarding him curiously. “Kier has long since been known for their brutish warriors and their lingering, spiteful memories. You are not what I expected.”
“I did not believe the rulers of Islor gave much thought to Kier at all.” He smiles sadly. “I am merely a king trying to save his people.”
“In that, our goals are similar.” Zander unrolls the map tucked under his arm, spreading it out on the table before me, affixing the corners with the waiting rocks. It’s a roughly drawn configuration of our coming battlegrounds. “Half of Ybaris and Mordain are in Eldred Wood, shoring up defenses. They moved in this morning and will be ready to receive you by tomorrow, nightfall.”