Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131875 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
But finally, she started laughing.
Isa’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“You can’t think that I believe you, right?”
“Why else would I be here?”
“To stop us. To find Kerrigan. Any of the reasons that make actual sense.”
Isa shrugged. “I could do any of those things, but that’s not where my offer stands.”
“Why should I believe you? You’ve done nothing but help him get to where he is. You’ve been at his right hand the entire time. You didn’t just watch as our world crumbled. You helped!” Clover snapped. “You are a monster. And you expect me to believe that one bad thing happened to you, and suddenly, you’re going to turn against him. You stood by his side the whole time. There is nothing you could do to prove yourself to us. The answer is and always will be no.”
Isa stared into Clover’s heated face. She was as still as a statue. The words falling from the girl’s lips cutting through her at every turn. No one in the Red Masks dared to speak to her this way. Only Kerrigan had been this bold, and Isa had been too deep to do anything but laugh at her insolence.
Even now, that was her first reaction. To laugh at this little girl and her stupid shop and her stupid movement. As if something so small could take down something as powerful as the Red Masks. It was unfathomable. It was idiocy that she had even come here.
Worse, she was right. Isa had stood by and let it all happen. She had been trained to bring down empires, and then she had been there as her work had fallen into place. It was the only life she knew.
Except Valia.
Except her sister.
Who had dreamed of a different world. One where they could have enough money to run away and never see any of this ever again. Only those dreams had been dashed to pieces so many times that Isa had believed it would never happen. But Valia had stayed true and paid the price for it.
“What if there was a way to prove myself?” Isa asked.
Clover blinked. “Impossible.”
“I could bring you a prisoner.”
Clover’s eyes rounded. She opened her mouth as if she was going to ask more, but then firmly closed it. “Who could possibly prove that you have changed your mind? How do I know it’s not a trap?”
“Because there is one person in the dungeons below the mountain that the Father would never release.”
“Who?” Clover asked skeptically.
“Kivrin Argon.”
Clover gasped. “Kerrigan’s father? He … he lives?”
Isa nodded. If that news ever got out, it would damn her. She was putting more trust into this girl than Clover had any idea about. But she had set her course. She would bring her father down at any cost.
“And I can get him out.”
Clover bit her lip. Her eyes darted to the necklace, as if hoping the small medallion would tell her everything she needed. “Fine. If you bring Kivrin back alive, then we can talk about an alliance. But only when that happens and not a second beforehand.”
Isa held her hand out with a raised eyebrow. Clover ground her teeth together. She looked like she couldn’t believe she was going to do this. But then she slipped her hand into Isa’s, and the bargain was struck.
39
The Throne Room
WYNTER
Wynter had dismissed her court ages ago. The attendants milled around, as if expecting for her to have something more for them to do. She wanted to get to her feet and rage at them to leave her be. But that was the old Wynter. That was the one they were all expecting to be unleashed on the House of Shadows. The fear that kept them at bay.
She was not her father. She would not reign like a tyrant. As much as it galled her to have to remain in control at all times. Even when the glass in her mind threatened to shatter if she missed one dose of potion from Amond or one fewer session. A secret she had to keep from her own court to not have someone challenge her.
She was still an Ollivier. Until her brother returned, she would reign as regent in his place. No matter what the snakes whispered at her back.
Prescott slunk into the throne room. His usual dapper, debonair bravado evaporated. Black bags hung under his eyes, and his hair was tousled. He was only half the male he had been before his sister’s neck was cut for her treachery in Kinkadia. He was not her cousin, but Fordham’s cousin, and she had agreed to have him on her council for his charm. A fact she was regretting deeply.
“Sorry I’m late,” he grumbled.
“Prescott,” she snapped.
Finally, he looked up to meet her eyes. They rounded as he took in the empty throne room.
“You’re several hours behind schedule.”