Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I cannot begin to describe the distress of seeing him put in that collar like some wild animal in need of sedation. The powers he wields with the same ease a bird flies, gone in a flash. He’s now defenseless in a palace filled with backstabbing Goldweeds and their associates, and all I can do is wait.
I rip off the rest of my cape in frustration, angry at how helpless I am. Maybe I should have fought to stay at his side. Then I could have… Could have what? The first time I used my new powers defensively, Anatole almost sliced my hand in half. I’m lucky for the healing salve Tristan gave me, because while it’s not fixed the issue altogether, at least I feel no more pain, and he’s assured me the wound will seal quickly.
I don’t regret stepping in though. That blade was far too close to Kyran’s neck.
Fucking Anatole.
A knock on the door startles me.
“Come in?” I say, surprised I, a prisoner, am given the courtesy of a knock. Though the door isn’t even locked, because two guards are stationed close to it and would have dragged me right back in if I tried to sneak out.
The elegant handle dips, and I find myself speechless when a veiled woman enters the room, closing the door behind her. Layers of black tulle hide her features, but the design of her dress—clinging to the hips and featuring lush layers from the knees down tells me who it is.
I dart behind the desk to create distance between myself and Marquise Coralis, who never had any reason to like me. Now that she knows my promised might have had a hand in her lover’s death, she might appreciate me less still.
“Kyran was just doing his best in a tough situation!” I say to get my words in first.
I watch her every move, but in this warded prison, even my miniscule shadowcraft skills are unavailable. This also means she cannot use hers to attack me, but that’s a small consolation.
She exhales, making the front of her dark veil puff up. I only see a rough outline of her facial features when she steps into a ray of moonlight slipping in through a window, but they remain a blur, as if she doesn't want me to see her expression.
“So he’s really gone? Kyranis?” she asks softly.
I deflate under the weight of all the stress I’m going through. “I’m sorry. Kyran couldn’t tell you, you must understand that.”
“I see it now. I actually think it was kind of him to not bed me under false pretenses, just to maintain the illusion of being the same man.”
I keep it to myself that Kyran isn’t interested in women, as that wouldn’t be helpful to our case. “Kyran is a good man. And a good prince. And if only he gets the chance, he’ll be a good Lord.”
“I do hope that happens. Prince Anatole is… he doesn’t grace me with favor. So while I mourn Prince Kyranis, I’m here to help you, as what my prince promised me can also be granted by yours. If he becomes Lord. But that lies in the hands of fate.” She sighs, as if tonight has taken a toll on her too. “I will be frank. Prince Kyranis banished my sister from the Nocturne Court after she rejected his advances. The accusations against her were false, and I want her back. Don’t forget my kindness when you speak to Prince Kyran.” She pulls out a little key, confusing me further.
I glance at the door behind her, thinking of the guards who were nice enough to leave me a bottle of wine. “Are they… dead?” I whisper.
She stalls, then lifts her veil, revealing flushed features, which I see for the first time without makeup. She looks almost… human when compared to the porcelain-skinned goddess she’s presented herself as every single time before.
“Of course not. It’s for the balcony,” she says, pointing at an iron door, which I couldn’t open before.
“Oh. Okay. I… don’t get it.” I spread my arms. This is the tallest tower in the entire castle. I barely have enough upper body strength to do three pull-ups, let alone climb down a slippery rock wall during a storm.
She huffs and shakes her head, passing across the room. “The guards won’t know you’re gone, because you will be back. If we don’t want an actual war with the Goldweeds, you have to be here in the morning but I’m giving you a chance to speak to Prince Kyran.”
I still don’t know how that’s supposed to work, but then she opens the door into a wall of gray rain. As I’m about to step back, worried she intends to push me into the void below after all, a dark shape appears out of nowhere. I cross my hands over my lips to keep in a scream, but then two wings send water my way, and Tristan floats in the air just beyond the balcony with his hair hanging in wet streaks.