Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Yet, not once had he blamed her. Though he should. She deserved blame.
When her chin trembled, she retreated to a deep, hidden chamber of her mind. The safest place for her. A dreamland without thoughts or memories, words no longer needed.
As they marched on, she lost track of time. At some point, Kaysar drew her out of seclusion, beseeching, “Tell me how I can help you.”
His anguished desperation pulled a response to the edge of her tongue. Or had he used his glamara? Either way, she resisted the urge to speak and won. Say nothing.
A group of pixies flew past, snagging Kaysar’s attention.
Dread prickled her nape. There are no better troublemakers than pixies, her mother once said. They’re thieves, the lot of them. You see one, you go in the opposite direction.
Homesickness assaulted every cell in her body. Miss you so much, Momma.
“One second, love.” Her brother halted and released her to study the map he’d drawn on his forearm using a metal claw and blood-ink. A necessity. No one survived the winding maze of gnarled trees, invisible interrealm doorways, fae-hungry trolls, organ-starved centaurs and poisonous foliage without aid.
He sucked in a breath, strain emanating from him. The tips of his pointed ears twitched. Did he hear something?
He dropped into a crouch, pulling Viori down with him. When seconds ticked by without incident, he straightened enough to pull her to her feet, and swept her in the opposite direction.
Her stomach’s growl stopped him. Looking wrecked, he shifted his gaze between Viori and the path they’d abandoned. With a curse, he reversed course, steering her toward the brook. Specifically, a knotted patch of poisonvine with a hollow center.
The sweetest scent coated her airways, courtesy of the foliage. Her brother encouraged her to sit amid the mess without brushing against it, then settled Drendall in her lap.
“You know I’ll always protect you, yes?” Bleak eyes searched hers. “Stay here and remain unmoving.” He whispered the command as he placed the satchel filled with their meager belongings at her feet. “I’ll find out what’s going on. While I’m gone, I want you to remember how much I love you. All right? I’ll return shortly.”
The admission of love heaped buckets of coal upon her guilt.
Cupping her cheeks, he kissed her brow. Then he kissed Drendall’s brow and darted off, never looking back.
Viori yearned to shout for his immediate return. As much as she hated being a drain on Kaysar’s life, she hated being without him. He and Drendall were her everything.
Say. Nothing.
Hours ticked by, sunlight waning. Finally, full darkness arrived, cloaking the forest in writhing shadows and bringing bone-numbing cold. Tremors plagued her. Her teeth chattered, her thin dress no match for the weather. Howls and growls reached her ears, and her gaze darted. But she didn’t stray from her spot.
Where was Kaysar? Why hadn’t he come back yet? When would he return?
Would he ever return?
By morning, everything inside her screamed, Find him! Help him! But still she stayed put. Won’t go against his orders. Not again. Never, never, never. She would rather rot.
She didn’t move the next day or night, either. Nor the next. Her empty stomach seemed to eat itself. Fear came and went. During daylight hours, she overheated. At night, she froze. But Kaysar did not return.
Dizzy and weak, eyelids heavy, so heavy, she teetered in place and smacked a swollen tongue. Wait. Was that...? Clutching Drendall tight, she squinted into the distance. Though her vision proved blurry, she thought she spied a hazy glow. Her breath caught. Had Kaysar returned—Excitement died in an instant. Two burly centaurs trotted closer.
A full armory of weapons draped them. From the swords strapped to their backs, the bow and quiver of arrows hanging at their sides and the spears gripped in hand. Bear fur draped muscular torsos. One had dark fur, while the other was white with spots.
Wizened features brightened when the pair spotted her. They stopped mere feet away, and her heart thudded. Too terrified to move, she forgot to inhale. Centaurs were far worse than pixies. To gain immortality, they ate fae alive, both young and old.
“My, my, my,” the tallest said. “Look what we have here.” He nudged his speckled friend. “Told you I smelled something tasty.”
“That you did,” Spots replied with a grin.
Acting on instinct, she shrank back. A mistake. Her elbow grazed a stalk of poisonvine, and agonizing pain ripped through her. Muscles spasmed, paralyzing her limbs. A temporary condition supposed to last two endless minutes, but she needed to hide now, now, now.
Too late. Laughing, Tallest latched onto her ankle and yanked her from the tangle. As frail as she was, she dropped Drendall, the last link to her family. No!
The centaur withdrew a long, stained blade and slashed her dress. Her skin. A jolt of pain freed her vocal cords from their unused state. A high-pitched scream tore from her, the cadence unpleasant and raspy.