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)
10
Zander
“What have you let happen, my dear idiot brother.”
Faint smoke clouds above Cirilea, but the streets are busy as survivors haul bodies off the cobblestone and sweep away debris. The rows of loaded wagons tell a grim story of the lives lost. Too many to guess.
After what Romeria described, of mortals dangling from light posts and children imprisoned within the ballroom, it’s no wonder the people rebelled. In fact, I commend them for it. All the same, my chest aches for my city and my realm.
“Have you ever seen it so empty?” Abarrane, who shares the dragon’s clutch with me while the other cradles Kazimir’s broken body, forgets her nausea for a moment to point to Cirilea’s port. Not a single skiff remains.
“Never in all my years of life,” I admit. I suppose that is a positive. It means a great many people escaped with Romeria’s help. Northmost will receive them in the coming days and, hopefully, they will return once they hear Atticus is gone.
We pass over the castle’s outer wall where people fought to punch through and gain access to their children, and then over the royal garden, where both Gesine and Boaz perished. The former, I will mourn. The latter, I cannot for his aid in Atticus’s betrayal, though he did serve my family honorably for many centuries.
“Fates.” Was it Caindra’s fire or Romeria’s that cut the impressive swath of destruction, devastating everything within its path? Either option is terrifying. I would not wish to face them in battle.
“I know I have expressed my share of doubts over Romeria, but we are fortunate that she is an ally and not an enemy,” Abarrane notes, complementing my unspoken thoughts.
“Land in the courtyard!” I yell, hoping the orange beast can hear me. When we left the east, I asked it to bring us to Cirilea and here we are, so it seems to understand my words.
Castle staff collecting rubble spot us descending and run for cover, their hands waving in panic. I cannot blame them for their fear. We all reacted much the same way the first time we laid eyes on Caindra, and this beast is far bigger.
The cobblestone and buildings around us shudder under the dragon’s weight as it lands and releases us, while continuing to cradle Kazimir in its other claw. I wonder if Atticus’s right-hand man still lives.
But that is beyond my control.
I am home.
That is my focus as my feet touch the ground of my city again.
Around us, guards and servants alike stand frozen and wide-eyed, uttering not a word. We must be a sight—the exiled king, returned and covered in beast blood, the largest creature they’ve ever laid eyes upon at his back.
The horses corralled in the stables kick at their doors, agitated by the daunting predator that fills half the courtyard.
“Do not eat anything here,” I warn. That would be a poor start.
The beast snorts in response, which tells me it likely understands far more than we give it credit for.
A glimmer within the crevices of cobblestone catches my attention. I stoop to collect the golden cuff with my house’s signature flame marking it. A royal servant’s adornment, meant to remain within their ear. It was likely ripped out as they ran. But without the blood curse, are these even needed anymore?
With one night, everything has changed in Islor, and yet with the wrong leadership, I know that nothing will change. The rich and powerful immortals will do anything in their power to remain so while keeping the weaker human race enslaved.
That ends now.
I toss the cuff away and stand.
“Your … Highness,” a guard stammers, his eyes flipping between me and the enormous beast at my back. “You have returned.”
“I have, and I am here to reclaim that which is rightfully mine—”
The castle doors creak open and behind the cohort of guards, two figures emerge.
The sound of Abarrane’s blade sliding out of its scabbard fills the air, timed perfectly with the dragon’s deep, low growl.
My jaw clenches as I take in the tall, dark-haired male—a stranger—who dons my royal suit and my golden crown. But it’s the woman wearing the queen’s crown beside him that raises my hackles. A female with copper-red hair, who looks eerily similar to a pencil sketch Romeria once drew, of the key caster Sofie.
“Fates.” It’s too late.
Malachi is here.
Movement in the shadows behind him draws my attention briefly to Wendeline—or a shell of who she once was. She’s still alive, at least. Romeria will be happy to learn that.
“Exiled King Zander. My dearest son.” Malachi smiles smugly. “I am pleased you are attending me with due haste. In honor of your arrival, a gift for you.”
I was so preoccupied by shock, I hadn’t noticed the grip of black hair within his fist and the head dangling from it. Malachi tosses it toward my feet. It lands with a sickening thud.