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)
“What are we supposed to do?” As soon as I say this out loud, a thought hits me, and the urge to follow through is overwhelming.
Reaching down into the makeshift casket, I grab hold of the blade through my mother’s throat, and I pull.
A deep, rattling gasp sails from her lips as her eyes flash open.
76
Romeria
The night sky hints at daylight as we emerge on the castle steps, our expressions somber. A crowd of mortals lines the stairs, much to our surprise for this hour, including Dagny, Corrin, Pan, Eden, as well as many of the scribes alongside Agatha.
While Atticus says his goodbyes to a tearful Gracen, I pull the old scribe aside.
“You look splendid this morning, Your Highness,” she says.
“Thank you. I found this hanging on my closet door.” A silver, black, and white suit of armor and leather. No wings attached this time. It makes me think there are still wisps and kaeli fluttering about, unseen. “If something should happen to me, this needs to get to Allegra.” I set the Ring of Minerva in her palm.
Her eyes widen.
“I trust you will get it to her.”
“I will find a way, Your Highness.” With a nod, she tucks it into the safety of her breast pocket. “And I am sorry we failed at finding the answers that would help you avoid this terrible battle you must now face.”
“You did find the answer. It just wasn’t the one we wanted.” I squeeze her shoulder. “Take care of everyone for me.”
Her attention settles on my satchel. “May the fates be merciful to you today, Your Highness.”
I sense a deeper meaning in those words, as if the old caster somehow recognizes the deal I made with Aminadav. “That would be a nice change.” I turn my back on her.
“Gesine would be so proud of you,” she rushes to add, bringing a lump to my throat.
Zorya and Loth stand in the middle of the steps, dressed in warrior’s clothing, each strapped with a dozen blades. There’s no question what they’re angling for—a chance to die today rather than remain within the safety of Ulysede, babysitting scribes and humans.
I nod.
“Your Highness.” They dip their heads and then climb into the saddles of the waiting horses.
The Cindrae wait in a line at the bottom of the steps, my crown resting in the palms of Oredai’s upturned hands. The one I intentionally left on my throne not ten minutes ago, when I went into the crypt to fetch Mordain’s ring.
Do not forget your crown.
Oredai’s voice in my head is especially unnerving this morning.
“Right, of course.” Collecting it, I study it for a moment. “What is this made of?”
The bones of elders.
“Huh. Bones. Really.”
It is a necessity as much as an honor.
“Necessity for what?”
That which is coming.
That sounds like a warning. After Jarek nearly died, I now weigh everything Oredai says. But it also triggers something Aminadav said to me, about the horn being bone ripped from his head. A gift with a specific purpose. “And what does it do?”
He flashes his jagged teeth.
She who trusts the elders will walk in the light.
Another nonanswer, but I expected as much from him. I don’t trust the elders, but I affix it to my head, anyway. It claws at my scalp. “Listen, if something should happen to me—”
There is only one ruler of Ulysede, and it is the Queen for All.
“That’s not what I was going to say but … Take care of them for me?”
His black eyes roam the mortals on the steps.
They are the people of this kingdom, Your Highness, and I protect the kingdom. No threat shall enter.
With that, the Cindrae pivot on their heels and march away.
“What did he say?” Zander asks.
“The usual. Things that don’t make sense.” But I do feel a little better, knowing Oredai will watch over them all.
Rubbing my neck with an affectionate hand, he calls out, “We must leave now.”
Atticus kisses Gracen one more time and then takes the steps down, looking ready to choke on his emotions.
With a last wave at the sea of worried faces, people who have become like family to me, we ride for the gate and the war that waits beyond.
Shouts of alarm sound midmorning as I’m devouring a bowl of vegetable stew and a slice of bread in Lyndel’s tower, oddly famished given the constant state of turmoil. My appetite disintegrates as I run after Zander along the bridge to the rampart and get my first clear look past Lyndel’s outer wall.
A light drizzle falls as we watch Malachi’s army move like a dark, slow wave over the grassy hill. A wave of ants that never ends, never breaks. For hours, it keeps rolling forward and spreading, until the land as far as we can see is alive with the enemy.
We’ve seen this army before, more than once, and yet now that they’re here, with Malachi at their helm, it feels more ominous. This isn’t a fly-by on a dragon, a hit-and-run attack. They are at our doorstep, and they aren’t leaving until someone is defeated.