Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136061 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“The more submissive of them act cowed and broken and eager to please, and they do a damn fine job,” Bad Hair Year continued, her lip curling. “It’s kind of their thing, I guess.”
A few people snarled at that.
“They also work as a unit better than most other shifters out there,” Micah cut in. “They’ve cased the castle, taken what we’ve needed, and gotten to know all the players better than we could’ve managed. It’s too bad we only see them fleetingly at the parties.”
People fidgeted and a few murmured, unhappy to agree but needing to. Despite the need to work together, apparently dragons thought they were better than wolves. And wolves likely thought the reverse.
“How long have you been working on all of this?” I asked, hope curling through me.
“Years. Since he got here.” Vemar pointed at Micah. “He’s the one who got us all organized. How long you been here, Micah?”
“Time is hard to judge, but…half a decade, maybe? A bit more?”
My hope shriveled up, and an uncomfortable weight lodged in my stomach. “That long? If the wolves have cased the castle, surely you have most of what you need. What’s the hold-up?”
“It’s hard to get opportunities to talk with them,” Micah said. “We are only pulled out of here for larger engagements, and then we are heavily guarded. There aren’t a lot of opportunities to touch base.”
“We tried to escape once,” Tamara said. “We thought we had everything ready. We got as far as the banks, ready to force our way to the boats…”
“What happened?” I asked.
“Govam happened,” Bad Hair Year said with a grim set to her mouth. “Somehow he knew what we were planning. He had a team waiting. Without our dragons, we had no hope. They dragged us back and beat us to within an inch of our lives.”
I let out a breath, thinking about my interactions with the demon. He was clearly dangling carrots in front of me to get me to act, and then he’d be waiting to step in and catch me. Mind-fuckery, all right, and he was damned good at it.
“Huh,” I said, running my thumb over the hilt of the sword. “Well then. Maybe we need to do a little study on Govam and make sure we’re anticipating him more than he is us.”
“Already underway,” Micah said with a glimmer in his eyes. “We will make a second attempt, and next time we will win.”
“Next time,” Tamara said with a shit-eating grin, “more than half of us will have our dragons.”
“What if we don’t want to leave?” someone asked from the back, a skin-and-bones man in his late thirties, I’d guess.
His eyes had a sheen over them in his gaunt face. His lank black hair fell down over a pronounced forehead.
“Why wouldn’t you want to leave?” I asked.
“Because I’m in no hurry to rush to my death. Like the alpha said, it’s been tried. It failed. My dragon has already been suppressed again. I don’t have access to healing. When they put me back in my cell the last time, they cracked my head and broke all my limbs in multiple places. I nearly bled out. I’d rather not suffer that again. They’ll kill me this time, I know they will.”
I stared at him incredulously.
He looks like he’s nearly dead now, my dragon murmured. What is he holding out for? Why does he wish to go slowly?
I glanced at the cells lining the squat room, the ceiling pushing down over us. I worried the cold, grimy stone with my toe and curled my nose at the thick, putrid smell that hung heavy in the air.
“This is living?” I asked, taking two steps and pulling the door to the nearest cell wide. I pointed inside while looking at him. “Being forced to rot in this cage? Being taken out and beaten so they can consume our pain and fear?” I glanced in, intending to point out the light covering of straw, nothing more than an illusion of bedding. Or the bucket in the corner for waste that usually overflowed before it was emptied.
But something caught my eye. Something I hadn’t seen when being dragged in and out of the dungeon.
Dotted here and there, creeping through the stone, somewhat wilting and laden with dead leaves, sprouted five everlass plants. They’d found a way to keep us company, even in hell.
Everlass, the very plant that had provided the people in the villages healing from the sickness the demons had unleashed on us.
Everlass, the plant that had brought Nyfain and me together.
Emotion welled up through me. Tears blurred my vision.
I choked out a laugh and walked into the cell immediately, avoiding the straw piled up on one side, and bent to the first plant, immediately pruning.
“What is she doing?” a man asked.
“What do you have in there?” a woman replied, obviously speaking to the owner of the cell.