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)
Lord Adley’s dead eyes stare up at me.
“How kind of you,” I manage, deadpan.
“After all the grief that one caused this realm, ridding us of him is the least I could do. It is a shame you did not bring the little mortal thief with you.”
“I assume you mean Queen Romeria?”
“If that’s what she’s calling herself.” He grins. “I would have preferred to accept fealty from both of you at the same time, but I suppose accepting it from one of you now will suffice.”
Abarrane grunts. “Never.”
He swings his attention toward my commander, who feigns bravery even as her fingers tap rhythmically against her pommel—a tell for her anxiety. “Never?” A wicked, dark glimmer flickers in his eyes. “That is a bold claim for such defenseless creatures. What … you believe you have a formidable protector in Valk?” He regards the dragon behind us with unnerving ease. “I thought surely he would have lost that wing during our last encounter.”
I struggle not to wince as the dragon—Valk, it seems is its name—emits a roar that pains my eardrum and sends everyone in the vicinity stumbling back. Clearly, they not only know each other but have battled.
The amusement slips from Malachi’s borrowed face, leaving stone-cold resolve. “So foolish of any who think they lay claim to this throne, for it has been mine since the day Ailill first summoned me. I understand it will be difficult for you to accept this, so I present you with a choice. You may kneel before me now and I will make your death swift. Resist, and your suffering will last an eternity.” He folds his hands in front of him and waits patiently for my response.
This is how it shall be—I am to battle the Fate of Fire himself if I have any hope of reclaiming my throne. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected less. It was all too easy otherwise.
Romeria was right. Coming to Cirilea was dangerous. Now, it might prove deadly if we can’t get out of here swiftly.
Before we do, though, I need one answer. I shift my focus to Sofie. “Tell me, key caster, how does it feel to know that you played pawn for centuries in hopes of reuniting with your husband, only to discover that you will likely never see him again?”
Raw pain flashes across Sofie’s face before it morphs with unfiltered rage, and her emerald eyes turn silver, much like Romeria’s do when she is about to unleash.
I’ve certainly said the wrong—or right—thing, and I’m about to pay for it. “Valk.” His name is barely a growl under my breath.
The dragon sweeps a claw out to collect us, his wing closing around just as bolts of fire unleash from Sofie’s slight form. He launches us into the sky with a screech.
And I hold my breath that we will escape her wrath.
We’ve cleared the borders of Cirilea’s outer wall when Abarrane snarls, “You intentionally provoked a key caster. Are you mad?”
“Maybe. But I needed to test the waters.” The stench of burned flesh curls my nostrils, but I cannot get a proper glimpse of where Sofie struck Valk. It doesn’t seem to have hindered his ability to fly, at least.
“And what did you find lurking beneath? Something that will kill us or simply maim?” she mutters, unimpressed.
“Another victim of Malachi who might be swayed.” There was no mistaking the anguish before her fury took over. But it is too soon to say if she will abandon her loyalty to him because of it, and Malachi with a key caster at his side is far from ideal.
To Valk, I order, “Let us get our injured passenger to the healers at the rift, so we may return to Ulysede tonight.”
11
Sofie
The terrace doors to the queen’s chamber open, and Elijah strolls in wearing only black linen pants that sit low on his hips, revealing a honed body.
For a fleeting second my pulse races with need. But it’s quickly chased by a crippling distress that threatens to tear me to pieces.
This is not my Elijah.
“There you are.” Cold brown eyes find me in my bed. “I have been looking for you.”
“You could not have been looking hard. I’ve been in my chambers for the past hour.” I feign focus on a book I found in the sitting area as I pluck strands of all four affinities, weaving them into a tightly braided coil of silver, at the ready.
“You left the festivities without my permission,” Malachi declares.
“I did not realize I needed permission.” I can’t help the surliness in my tone.
Tell me, key caster, how does it feel to know that you played pawn for centuries in hopes of reuniting with your husband, only to discover that you will likely never see him again?
The unseated king’s words—and his arrogance—still burn beneath my skin, hours later. How dare he say such things to me? How dare he cut so close to the quick?