Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
My textbooks were scattered on the bed, my potions on the shelves against the wall. I tugged my boots over my breeches and put on a white linen tunic, something light to make the heat more bearable.
A knock sounded on my bedchamber door.
“Coming!” I grabbed my bag and stuffed it with all my supplies before I hustled out of the room.
I walked by the guard with a quick wave and hurried down the long hallway toward the grand staircase. My boots tapped against the stones beneath my feet in the breaks between the red rugs, and I passed the paintings of people long dead on the walls. When I rounded the corner, I gripped the gold banister and made my way down.
When I was little, I used to try to slide down the banister, and my mom would lose her shit.
I almost did it now…but I felt something.
A stare. One that lingered longer than it should. A kind that felt pressed right against my skin. Foreign as if it was from a stranger, but packed with enough intensity that it felt intimate…really intimate.
My gaze lifted and scanned the great hall as I continued my descent.
It took just a second to zero in on the location, to find exactly where it was coming from.
A guard stood next to the double doors, dressed in the uniform of the king. Black steel with the king’s crest in the center of the breastplate. Black breeches with a sword at his side, a bow upon his back. The helmet concealed his forehead and everything below his eyes. Only his eyes were visible.
Bright blue. Striking. Deadly.
When I reached the bottom stair, I stilled as if I were under attack.
He didn’t draw his sword or take a defensive stance.
His only crime was his look.
I’d been the recipient of many looks from men, mostly lust, but that wasn’t it either.
This was hatred. Pure hatred.
I picked up my pace again and approached the door, coming close, feeling his eyes follow me the entire way. I gave him a side glance, watching him as I moved to the door and got it open.
He remained, only his head turning.
I stepped into the sunlight and let the door shut behind me.
Only when the barrier was between us did I feel the stare subside.
It was probably jealousy. Jealousy that my family ruled over this great city—and he was left to guard it. My father always said being at the top was dangerous, because the higher you climbed, the more eyes were on you. The more beautiful you were, the more people wanted to be you. Perhaps that was all he wanted, to take my place.
I walked down the cobblestone streets between the shops, sloping downward as I moved farther away from the castle. When I passed the sweets shop, chocolate and caramel were in the air, and when I passed the rug shop, I saw the shop owner beating out the dust from a rug that had been in the window for too long. I made sure to cross the road to the other side to avoid it.
When I was young, my father insisted that I be accompanied at all times, but as I got older, I earned my independence. Now I came and went on my own, doing my errands and my business without permission. Some of the people in the city knew who I was, but most had no idea.
And if someone tried to cross me, my mom had taught me exactly where to shove my boot.
It was a long walk to get to the stables, at least twenty minutes from my bedchamber, and when I finally made it, my entire back was coated in sweat. My hair had been down at the start of the trek, but now I’d pulled it into a loose bun, some strands stuck in the slickness at the nape of my neck.
“Over here, Ivory.” Roran, the stablemaster, was kneeling by my next patient.
A chestnut mare lay on her flank, a gruesome wound in her side near her ribs. The bite marks were unmistakable.
Roran stroked her neck to keep her calm, to ease her suffering as much as possible. “The wolves.”
I kneeled in front of her right in the dirt before I put my bag beside me. “Anyone else hurt?”
He shook his head. “They ganged up on her.”
I released a painful sigh as I pressed my hand to the wound. “Sorry, girl.”
She gave a loud neigh when I touched her.
“Is there anything you can do?” Roran asked. “I shouldn’t pick favorites…but she’s a good horse.”
“I’ll do my best, Roran.” I opened my bag and pulled out everything I needed to make this work. First, it was the disinfectant, the pollen from a flower in the wildlands mixed with distilled water. I soaked it into the wound and listened to her neigh harder at the sting. Once I let that dry, I got out my suture kit and did my best to tug the flesh back together, to get it to close and stop the bleeding. There was too much skin missing, so I had to stretch what I had, reducing the blood loss. “Almost done, girl.”