Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
I make a face. “It’s vile.”
“As am I,” he says grimly. “And magic takes on its maker. Drink.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’ll give you in return?”
“Well, last time, you promised me your body and soul forever,” he says, clearing his throat. “And look how that turned out.”
“And you promised you would hunt me down, that the magic would ensure you’d find me, no matter how long it took.”
He nods. “As it did.”
“You also said I wouldn’t want you to find me,” I add.
“Are you arguing with that, little fish?” he asks idly.
I ignore the pang in my heart at the sound of my nickname and give my head a shake. “No.”
But I’m lying.
And he knows it too.
“Then drink,” he says.
I take the jar from his hands this time, try not to breathe out of my nose, then drink the contents back.
“Caudam capio et tibi pedes dabo,” he begins to chant while I focus on not vomiting. “Vocem capio et servitutem tibi trado.”
Somehow, I manage to swallow the disgusting liquid down while Priest continues chanting, and I’m just about to ask if that’s all there is to it or if he’s going to bite me like last time when he reaches forward, palming the side of my head and exposing my neck.
“Aragon, no!” Maren yells at him, like he’s being reprimanded.
But Priest doesn’t listen, and I have enough time to grip the sides of the tub, the empty jar falling into the water as I brace myself for his bite. It’s as strong as I remember, his fangs sinking deep as he pulls back my blood into my mouth like he’s ravenous.
I gasp from the pain, but pleasure soon takes over, and I find myself sinking into the tub, slipping into oblivion in a rushing stream of red.
“My Gods,” I hear Ramsay whisper.
Then, I start to feel it.
Beyond Priest’s feeding is another sensation, this one deep inside and strangely familiar. The feeling of bones being broken apart from the inside.
Suddenly, I’m screaming as the pain tears through my body, and Priest stops drinking from me. I glimpse at him standing back beside Ramsay and Maren, his mouth bloody, watching in awe as I begin to transform.
I pinch my eyes shut, my body writhing, water sloshing over the side of the tub, the world twisting and spinning in hot waves, like I’m being born again, bursting from the broken shell of my ribs.
I am not me anymore.
I am someone else.
I am everything else.
I am magic.
“You did it,” Ramsay whispers. “Aragon, you did it.”
“Larimar?” I hear Maren cry out, her hand at my cheek. “Are you alright?”
I lift my head and open my eyes to see my old body again.
Naked and in a bloody bathtub.
Two thighs, two calves, two feet, ten toes.
And the pink, hairless space between my legs that Priest knows so well.
I don’t even bother covering up.
Let him look.
“It worked,” I say, meeting his eyes. He’s fighting to meet my gaze, though I have to say, Ramsay isn’t doing a very good job of it either. When he catches me noticing, he quickly averts his eyes.
“I’ll go get you some clothes,” he says quietly before he leaves the room.
“Do you need anything?” Maren asks, grasping my hand. “Are you in pain?”
I shake my head. “I’m sore, but I’m not in any pain. But I do have a request for Priest.”
He swallows hard. “What?” he asks thickly.
“You wanted a chance to talk with me alone? Then I get to choose when. And I want you locked up until then.”
Chapter Thirty-One
LARIMAR
It’s an eerily calm night and the moon is full, reflecting off the water so the whole ocean seems to glow. Every now and then, Nill’s fin will break the surface, reminding us he’s there.
Sometimes, I jump right into the ocean to test if the spell works. Each time, my legs turn back into a tail with only some discomfort, and I swim alongside Nill. Sometimes, Maren joins me, and we swim like we used to when we were children and didn’t know any better, riding the waves at the bow of the ship, pretending the humans couldn’t hurt us.
But tonight, the ocean isn’t as inviting.
I’ve ignored Priest for too long.
According to him, I’ve already broken one bargain, and now, I’m breaking another.
He gave me legs on the condition that I would talk to him alone, and he’s been in the jail cell for days, waiting for me to finally gather the courage to hear what he has to say. Though perhaps it’s not courage I’m waiting for. Perhaps I’m waiting for armor to form around my heart.
But that will never happen. I’ll never be able to protect myself from him, even if he’s chained up. I’ll never not hurt at whatever he has to say. Our interactions always revolved around pain—why should that be any different now?