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 mean a caster.” Islor has been seized by a powerful male caster who calls himself King Malachi. My brother is also powerful in wielding the flame—but not creating it.
Tuella meets King Cheral’s gaze but doesn’t respond. I suspect there is more to it than that, but she won’t share while I’m here.
His steps are slow and methodical as he strolls around the birdbath. “It seems your realm has quite the obstacle to overcome.”
I chuckle, though nothing I’ve learned warrants humor. “Please tell me you are not foolish enough to believe this problem ends at a border. If the rift is truly open, no one is safe.”
“Plenty for them to occupy themselves with in your realm.” But he frowns as if he doesn’t buy his own words.
“And that?” I point to his pocket where he slid the letter. “That alone should be a warning of this king’s intentions.”
“With the rift open, this King Malachi does not have time to attempt to conquer Kier.”
“Maybe you’re right. Tell me, how many of your soldiers remain in Islor, waiting for instruction on how to proceed?” Bexley warned of a vast Kier army. There is no way they’ve abandoned their cause, especially not with a realm in turmoil.
Cheral’s lips purse, answering my question whether he means to or not.
I hum. “Sounds like your men will be occupied too. Wait until they meet a hag.”
“I had hoped your brother would reclaim the throne. There could have been a negotiation for your release. Now, I do not see the value in keeping you alive.” He says this, but he watches me closely, and I sense a challenge behind his words. Give me a reason to keep you alive.
“This impostor may wear the crown today, but I can assure you, it won’t be long before my brother comes to reclaim it.”
“Tuella just confirmed, King Malachi is powerful.”
“My brother is powerful.” Far more than even I realized. “And he has a key caster by his side, by your own admission, one who now wields the power of Ybaris and Mordain and this secret Ulysede and those scaly winged beasts. And frankly, fates know who or what else.” Who has Romeria won over with her charm? The clearer the picture I paint, the more I begin to believe it.
Zander and Romeria will take back Islor.
And the realm will be the better for it.
“You stole his crown from him. I can’t imagine he wants anything from you but your death.”
And I will deserve it. “You’re right, he most likely wants me dead. But Romeria saved my life only days ago, despite that betrayal. The only reason I can think of is that my brother insists on delivering my punishment himself. If that is the case, he will come looking for me. If he discovers you stole his opportunity for vengeance …” I let the words hang for a few beats. “Imagine what those winged beasts could do to this beautiful palace and your lovely family.”
My attention drifts over the pillars and painted ceiling. “On second thought, with your vast army in Islor and his ability to fly here, he could claim Ostros as his own. There wouldn’t be much of a defense.” I meet King Cheral’s gaze in challenge.
He studies me through shrewd eyes. “Surely, something to ponder,” he says, waving his guards over. “Return the prisoner to his cell.”
I can’t help my smile as I’m escorted back to my cage, though it's empty. The realm is in shambles and, if there is anything King Cheral just taught me, it’s that I know nothing at all.
20
Sofie
“Your Highness.” The greeting is a constant chorus as I stroll along the corridor of gilded pillars and candelabras, the lords and ladies bobbing and bowing like bleating imbeciles while the mortals scurry out of my path.
But it’s the whispers trailing that charge my spirits.
“She’s a key caster.”
“The first we’ve had in two thousand years.”
“She must have ended the blood curse.”
How thrilling it is to be in a world where my power is revered, not hidden from weak mortals who cannot wrap their tiny brains around its existence. I will gladly accept at least some credit for their recent fortunes. It was me, after all, who sent Romeria to this realm. It was me who suffered for three centuries in the dark as part of Malachi’s game.
It is I who suffers still, sitting idly by while my beloved husband is trapped in yet another hell.
But these fools had a key caster in their midst for months and hadn’t the first clue. Then again, that silly girl lived twenty-one years with no clue what great power waited inside her either.
I march through the grand entrance doors of the castle. The dress I’ve chosen today—a wine-colored silk gown with ebony boning—squeezes my rib cage. This will take time to adjust to. I’ve grown too accustomed to modern fashion.