Total pages in book: 295
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 282090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1410(@200wpm)___ 1128(@250wpm)___ 940(@300wpm)
Suddenly, I feel a little washed out.
Doubt makes my steps unsteady. Maybe I should have gone with color. Maybe she was telling the truth and Xaden is sick of all the black. Maybe she knows him better than I do.
“You all right?” Mira asks as the fliers lead us down the hall, making us the most unlikely foursome to ever walk the Continent.
“Yes.” I roll my shoulders, trying to shake off the feeling. What the hell is wrong with me? I never judge myself against other women when it comes to how we look. How we fight? Sure. Ride? Definitely. But nothing ever as shallow as…appearance.
Being pretty doesn’t save you at Basgiath.
“I hear you have an older brother,” Mira says to Syrena when we reach the first staircase.
I keep the marble bannister in a death grip as we start down. The last thing I’m going to do is trip and fall in front of Cat.
“You’re thinking of Drake,” Syrena says over her shoulder. “Same last name, but he’s our cousin, and come to think of it, you’re just his type. He likes women who might actually kill him.”
“Too bad I don’t go for gryphon fliers,” Mira responds as we round the corner to the next flight of stairs.
“Yeah, he’d probably draw the line at a dragon rider.” Syrena laughs, but it’s short-lived. “He’s with the nightwing drift in the north, along the Braevick border.”
I don’t know their unit terminology, but the Braevick border means he’s on the front line.
We make it to the middle terrace—the one we first arrived at this afternoon— and they turn left, away from the winding pool of water and past a line of guards.
“Did Zara not know how to attend your hair?” Cat asks with a pitying glance back at me as we approach a guarded set of double doors. “Surely, she could have come up with something a little more refined than just leaving it down like that. I thought you always wore it up in case of a fight?”
How does she know that? I’ve had enough.
“It would be a pity to kill her now. I’m hunting ten minutes away and I’d miss the show,” Tairn says.
Power surges within me.
“Control it. Now,” Tairn demands, all trace of sarcasm gone.
Swallowing hard, my fingernails biting into my palms, I fight the urge to blast her. What is it about Cat that brings out the irrational in me? “How sweet of you to worry about me, but you’re not the one I’m picking a fight with tonight,” I assure Cat.
“With Xaden?” Her eyes narrow, then drip with false sympathy. “If you don’t already know that he’s not the kind of man who gets flustered or loses control, then there’s really no hope for you. Save yourself the energy, because he’ll simply think any fight you pick is childish.”
Shit. She’s right. What am I doing? Xaden doesn’t get flustered, and definitely not by me.
Wood groaning as it splits, then shatters. The sound of daggers clattering to the floor. The feel of my heart pounding, my breath stuttering as bliss settles in the marrow of my bones. “I’ve never lost control like that.” The flash of memory rocks me to my core, clearing my head just long enough to breathe around the insufferable jealousy I feel toward a woman I don’t even know.
The guards nod at the fliers and move to open the doors.
“Give it a rest.” Syrena’s tone sharpens at her sister. “You’re all of a year older than Violet, and it’s been longer than that since you two were together. He’s just a man, but she’s the best weapon we have against the dark wielders.”
“Are you all right?” Mira asks, her worried gaze skimming my face.
“No,” I whisper. “But I don’t know what’s wrong, either.”
The doors swing open, and we walk into the largest dining room I’ve ever seen. The glass doors that line the back wall are propped open to the terrace despite the threatening clouds darkening the sky. A humid evening breeze flickers the candles along the table as the guards shut the door behind us. There must be over fifty people at the long, ornately decorated table that runs the length of the space.
And every single one of them has turned to look at the four of us.
My gaze finds Xaden’s in under a second, and it’s not because he’s seated at the center of the table, or because he’s one of only two men dressed in black, or even because he’s turned around as if he sensed me coming—which he probably did. I locate him within a heartbeat because he’s the center of my gravity.
As pissed as I am that he lectured me, that he refused to bring me, that there are years of history behind both of us we haven’t discussed, that the tunic he’s walking toward me in isn’t just tailored to perfection but obviously made for him, it doesn’t change the fact he’s a fucking magnet for my heart.