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)
“But—”
“No.” He would hear no protest. After giving her another swift kiss, he told her, “You are the most important part of my life now. There is no line I won’t cross to keep you safe. Even if I must leave you behind and angry. The farther you are from me for this, the better.” Belua tended to focus the bulk of their malice on him and those closest to him.
The color faded from her cheeks. She opened her mouth to respond, but the bell tolled again. He kissed her once more and flittered to the common tent and utter pandemonium.
Panic had consumed the once-festive crowd. Only those who’d trained with him on the battlefield exuded calm. Several of the retired soldiers had even taken the initiative. Alston and Oren shouted commands to the people to ensure a safe evacuation.
People tripped this way and that in search of safety. Children cried out. His presence only seemed to amplify their distress where only moments ago they’d teased him. He spotted the headmistress who oversaw the care and feeding of the camp’s orphans, herding her charges out of the tent. The young child was crying, pointing at the doll now being trampled by frightened fae.
“Halt,” he called.
Only his command broke through the terror of his people. He stooped and scooped up a fallen doll from the packed earth, then handed it to the owner, the little girl he’d seen dancing with Red.
Despite the pained uneasiness in her gaze, she hugged him. “Are we going to die?”
“No.” He gave her a curt nod, followed by a wink only she could see. “Follow the orders of Alston and Oren. They’ll lead you to safety.” Micah moved on, pointing to the strongest soldiers in the area. “You, you, you and you. Go to my tent. One on each side. Guard your queen with your lives. Not one scratch is to mar her skin.”
“Yes, Majesty,” they called in unison. They were gone a second later.
Norok and Elena flittered to him. Whatever reservations they’d entertained regarding his marriage had vanished in the face of danger. In battle, they fought as an unbreakable unit.
“To the death,” he snarled. Belua had dared approach his wife. Today they died without mercy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
THE WINE WAS messing with Viori’s head, her spinning mind racing from one wild thought to the next. Oh yes, it was absolutely the wine, and not the cataclysmic kiss she and Micah had just shared. A shocking merger of strength and weakness, of serenity and madness, with pure need at the helm, directing her every action, rendering her unable to think.
But he was gone, and she could think now. So do it. Think. She paced through the tent, just as she’d done her first day in camp. Oh, how much had changed since then. From a captive to a queen. Married to Kaysar’s enemy. A male she had practically begged to strip naked before he’d departed from her. Ruler of a people she didn’t like. Well, mostly didn’t like. Cakara and Nema were nice. Wonderful, actually. The other orphans, too. Plus, after the wedding Micah’s people had grown kinder toward her. And to him, for that matter.
Strange indeed. So many well-wishes for a happy, long life, and healthy children. A lump formed in her throat. A baby made of flesh and blood. With Micah. Who wished to reunite her with the children she already had. To be a family...with his enemies. He just didn’t know it.
Worry seized her, tremors invading her limbs. What was going on out there? Bells had tolled, and Micah had reacted as if the world were about to end. Had her children come? Had Kaysar returned to break the truce? Either way, she should be out there. But what would she do? Who would she side with?
Figure it out when you learn what’s going on. So guards blocked both exits—the door and the vulnerability in the canvas, as evidenced by their shifting shadows. So what? As a royal, her word was law as much as Micah’s. If she wished to leave, she should leave. And she could, without detection.
Viori clutched a tiny pebble in her hand. Before she’d lost her wits during that fiery kiss, she’d stolen the thing from Micah’s pocket.
Guilt tightened her chest. If she did this... Would Micah consider it a betrayal? If she returned before he did, would he even know she’d left? And if he did know she’d left but she saved his life or the life of his—their—people? Could he really find fault with her then?
Viori fortified her resolve...and did it. Still clad in her fancy garment—her wedding gown—she flittered into the darkness, several feet from the tent. Her eyes widened as she took in the scene. And she’d thought there’d been chaos before. Fae sprinted in every direction, trapped in a panicked haze as they fought to return to their homes.