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)
He rapid-blinked. It was. Little Red was laughing and twirling between stonemen. Only, she wasn’t so little. She was here, and she was beautiful. A woman fully grown, those freckles still evident.
Ensnared by the sight, he moved closer. Couldn’t halt himself. So a belua did it for him, plowing through Red as if she were mist, slamming a hard fist into Micah’s sternum. He flew backward, crashing into a tree. Impact rattled his brain but failed to erase his thoughts. She’d been a figment of his imagination?
Jumping to his feet, scanning. No other sign of her. Fury threatened to rise. “Did you see the redhead?” he demanded of Norok.
“What redhead?” the warrior demanded as he ducked, avoiding a cuff to the temple.
Other giants homed in on Micah, ending the conversation there. He threw himself back into the fray, thoughts whirling. Why had he beheld her now? Had he seen reality or a figment of imagination? Where was she? When could he see her again?
After taking repeated blows, he forced the female out of his mind and threw a punch. Another. He...would...not...quit. To his surprise, Norok lunged in front of him a time or twelve, absorbing blows meant for him. Whatever the warrior’s injuries, he rejoined the skirmish as soon as he healed. More and more creatures became piles of dust and debris at their feet.
Micah whaled on his next target, unleashing the worst of his disappointment in today’s outcome. A figment. Only a figment. Not that it mattered. What would he have done with the real Red, anyway?
No, it mattered not at all.
In the end, his ability to subdue the beasts won, and the final three stonemen surrendered. One after the other, they sank to their knees, the ground shaking with every hit.
Norok wiped blood from his nose. He struggled to catch his breath. “They bow to you?”
“They do. Always.” Micah ended the trio exactly as he’d ended their brethren: savagely. No mercy. Not with belua.
With the last foe vanquished, he faced his companion. Double blink. Elena and other villagers had trailed them and observed the battle from a short distance. The viceroy included. The group gaped at Micah.
One of the males gulped, lowered his gaze and slowly sank to his knees. Others noticed the action and followed suit until the viceroy stood alone.
“But...he’s a chimera,” the male groused.
The citizens didn’t rise. Instead, they bowed their heads.
What was happening right now? Micah floundered for words. He took a step forward, intending to...what?
The viceroy dropped like a brick in water, babbling, “All hail the new viceroy.” There was a noticeable tremor in his voice.
Others echoed the statement. “All hail the new viceroy.”
The citizens submitted to Micah? To his rule? Willingly?
Viceroy? Me? He could never... Oh, but he could. And he would. The glimmer of satisfaction resurfaced as the weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders. “I accept command of the village.”
Finally, the people could implement his planting ideas. Under his authority, the valley should thrive as never before. And the citizens... they would be his family.
May he always strive to provide for and protect those in his care.
CHAPTER THREE
Present day
VIORI DE AOIBHEALL awoke with a gasp as lights switched on inside her head. She jolted upright, her heart pummeling her ribs. Blood rushed, catching fire and spreading. The cold evaporated from her limbs.
Where...what...? Bits of greenery tumbled from her hair, and her stomach sank. Moss? How long had she slumbered this go round, dead to anyone who stumbled upon her? Decades? Centuries? How much of the world had changed? Had she remained in the mortal world or returned to the fae realm? The two were similar in many ways, but different in so many others.
She surveyed the surrounding terrain—Fae! But nowhere she recognized. Shallow pools of murky water encircled her, weaving through a dense cluster of bald cypress and black gum shrubs, minus their leaves. A dank, dismal swamp. Her fault? Had she done this, draining the land of resources as she’d seemed to do to so many others?
Cursed to ruin everything I touch.
But Viori pasted on a bright smile. Eighteen towering oaks stood nearby—her creations. Her children. Creatures she’d sung to life now watched her with eager anticipation.
She gave an encouraging wave. “Hello, my darlings.” The roughness of her voice proved disconcerting, but her happy facade never wavered. “Did you miss me?”
The group hurried over to nuzzle against her. A cacophony of happy sounds rang out, and her smile turned genuine. Those breathy sighs and low clicks soothed her ragged soul. There was no sweeter music.
No, that wasn’t true. Words—conversation—would have been nicer, but Drendall alone possessed the skill, and she’d vanished ages ago.
Well. Goodbye soothing, hello sorrow. The loss of her precious doll still cut.
The trees noticed her darkened mood this time and twittered their concern. Exactly what she’d hoped to avoid.