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)
“You’ll have to excuse their curiosity. All they know of Islorians, they have learned from bedtime tales.” King Cheral says something in his language and the children dash toward a door on the far side, two little ones slowing long enough to place kisses on his cheek, which he accepts with a soft chuckle.
They must be his children. Little princes and princesses.
And the four women in white occupying the chairs around him must be his wives.
Tuella hovers in one corner, dressed in the same red garb as before, dissecting me with her black eyes.
“Come forward, usurper king of Islor.” He waggles two fingers, gesturing to an open space in the horseshoe of chairs.
I have no time to react before the guard behind me jabs my back with his pommel.
I breathe through the pain as I stroll toward my assigned spot, unwilling to give them any satisfaction. “Inviting me to meet your whole family? I am honored.”
“That? That was not all of them. I have thirty-two children and, what is it now? Sixteen grandchildren. One was just born last week. Obviously, they were not all here.”
My eyebrows arch, earning his laugh.
“It must be so unusual to you, given your kind’s struggles. This is one of their great weaknesses, you see,” he says to his small audience, but loud enough for me to hear. “They take only one wife and then they must fuck on a stone under a special moon four times a year and hope the gods see it in their heart to gift them a child. Can you imagine?”
A chorus of titters carries.
“Actually, it does not surprise me in the least to see a mortal king with so many offspring. Mortals breed like hares and you’ve taken four wives. But I doubt you satisfy any”—I falter over my words as I meet gazes with Satoria, seated in one of the chairs, and wearing a white gown to match the others—“of them.”
Clever king, sending one of his most trusted—a wife—to impersonate a slave and loosen my tongue. Risky, though. I had the opportunity to kill her several times over.
Satoria smirks—at my shock or at my slight, I cannot tell. She truly had me fooled.
King Cheral leans back, ignoring my insult. “Your reign in Islor, though short, has brought with it delightful tales. Is it true you chopped a lord’s head off in your throne room, in front of everyone? And in the name of a mortal servant?”
The smile I wear is genuine, the satisfaction of that moment enduring. “He was a minor lord and, believe me, he had it coming.” I have many regrets. That is not one of them.
“And then you tossed all of your eastern lords and ladies into prison cells.”
“The tower. I see someone’s been receiving messages.” I locked the gates and stifled all communication earlier that same day, which means Cirilea’s gates must be open again.
Zander must have reclaimed his throne. Or perhaps Annika has taken the crown for herself. Za’hala knows I deserve that level of betrayal from my twin sister.
King Cheral watches me mentally work my way through the possibilities. He’s enjoying this. “Many. A few at first and now they are pouring in. Are you surprised to hear that Cirilea fell to rebellion only hours after you left for the east?”
His words are like a swift punch to my gut. I recall the tension brewing in the air the day we marched out, the deathly glowers from Cirilea’s citizens. “No, that does not surprise me.” But it pains me. If I had stayed, would it have made any difference?
“There was a concerted effort led by your people and aided by Ybarisan allies. Many mortals left by ship, the captains bribed with priceless jewels. Others stormed the castle gates, looking to find their stolen children and punish all those keeping them prisoner.”
I can’t help the sharp inhale. Gracen would have been in that ballroom with the children. Would they have painted her friend or foe? “And the result?”
“By all accounts, they did not find them. The children were gone. Disappeared.”
I frown. “That is impossible.” There were hundreds, far too many to simply “disappear.”
“But perhaps the most surprising message I received is this one, though. It arrived this morning by a spirited messenger fowl.” He slides a folded paper out from his vest and holds it up for me to see the wax seal and the flame stamped into it. Cirilea’s royal seal, broken. “From the king of Islor.”
The urge to dive for it—to learn what has happened to my city, my realm since I left—is overwhelming and yet I restrain myself. “I do not recall writing to you. Must have slipped my mind.”
By King Cheral’s amused expression, he knows his taunt is effective.
“What does my dear brother have to say for himself?”
“I have no idea. It is not your brother who tests the king’s quill but another.”