Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87781 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
My heart does something strange. It feels like it’s freezing in place, no longer beating, and I have to press my fingers against my chest to warm it up. The thought of Hanna not being my queen is so painfully cold and sharp, it takes my breath away. She belongs with me, every single inch of her; I know that in the depths of my being. She is the queen of the prophecy, the one to touch Death, the one to rule and unite the land. She has been promised to me.
But for how long? I always assumed that if she was the true queen, she would be with me for the rest of eternity. But what if the prophecy ends? What if she’s only supposed to be in my life to unite the land and was never promised to stay until the end?
“Tuoni?” she says softly, bringing my thoughts back to the present, this strange fucking present.
I glance at her and realize that though my worries feel like a burden, I must push them aside for now. That’s what a true leader does. That’s what a god does.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her.
She gives her head a shake while sucking in her lower lip. “I have no idea. I feel like the kid at the start of Flight of the Navigator.”
I stare at her to imply I have no idea what thing she’s talking about, as per usual, and she goes on, looking chagrined. “Sorry. I’ll stop that. It’s just, it’s beyond weird to have a whole year gone, just like that. It’s not just that everyone thinks something terrible has happened to me; it’s knowing I just lost a year of my life…”
She trails off and looks away.
I swallow the brick in my throat. “In Tuonela, you will not age, at least not for eons. In Tuonela, you have all the time in the world. We will have all the time in the world.”
And when we return, this will no longer be your problem, I want to say, but I don’t.
She nods at that, but that frozen heart feeling comes back, the fear that I’m slowly losing her, whether she knows it or not.
“Oh, I think we’re here,” she says, looking out the window just as the train starts to slow. We get up, and I grab our bags from the metal rack overhead, standing in line with the rest of the passengers as we wait for the train to come to a stop, ignoring their curious looks.
The train station is busy, the busiest place I’ve seen yet, though it doesn’t hold a candle to how chaotic and crowded it gets during a Bone Match. I follow Hanna as she makes her way through the throngs of people with their suitcases and bags until we step out onto a street.
Strange looking, long vehicles with rods protruding from the roof trundle on past through the snow. The light is low now, the way I am used to, and it seems everything is colored in shades of blue and gray. Nighttime will fall soon, and I know I’ll feel more at ease in a city of darkness.
“Do you know where you’re going?” I ask her.
“To find a good hotel that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and hopefully has someone working the front desk you can easily manipulate.” She glances up at me. “Remember, we don’t have any ID, and we need ID here to make a reservation. We also need credit cards, which we don’t have. You’ll have to convince them that we’re allowed to pay with cash, no ID.” She pauses and gives me a coy smile just before we cross a street made of icy stones. “But if that works, perhaps you can convince them we don’t have to pay for anything at all.”
“What did I say about being greedy?” I say. “We’ll pay the rate, fair and square.”
“But we could stay in a hotel we can’t afford,” she says. “A place fit for a king.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I tell her, stepping out across another road.
This time, Hanna gasps. “Tuoni! No!” She grabs my arm, tries to pull me back, and I notice the red automobile that I stepped in front of doesn’t look like it wants to stop.
In fact, the vehicle keeps coming, and I lock eyes with the man behind the wheel, his mouth open in a yell, his hands spinning the wheel back and forth.
I’m starting to think the man isn’t going to stop his vehicle.
“Halt!” I yell, throwing my hand out toward the automobile.
I feel the silver lines pulse against my skin, and it looks like they’re coming out of my glove, faint twisting threads that shoot through the air toward the vehicle like a million strikes in a lightning storm.