Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
He did, the thump of his boots echoing off barren walls. No furniture filled the foyer. Or the hallway. Or the rooms they passed. The palace was empty. But then, wraiths had no need of such things. They rarely slept, and when they did, they simply floated around.
“Do you want a tour of the place, or shall we get straight to business?” she asked.
A grunt was his only response.
“My apologies, Astra, but I don’t speak Surly.” She tossed him a glance over her shoulder and sniffed. “Care to try again?”
“I want this done,” he snapped.
“Fine. Just know you’re missing out. The vacant bedrooms are really something special.”
Up a flight of steps they went. Wait. He thought he sensed...firstone. Roux stiffened. If the wraith had firstone in her possession, she owned the means to slay him. Not just slay him but trap him. In the presence of firstone, he couldn’t flash or utilize other abilities.
Not by word or deed did he reveal his concern, however. Instead, he memorized every detail about the castle, logging inconsistencies in the dimensions to examine at a later point. Now that he’d explored within these walls, he could return without anyone’s notice. And he would. Remaining on another plane rendered the firstone useless. Mostly.
He would come tonight, in fact. No more spending his nights with Blythe under the pretense of guarding her. She was well able to care for herself. No more watching her. Wanting her. Imagining she straddled his lap and stroking himself.
Penelope soared past double doors, entering a ballroom with a royal dais and a throne made of—Roux did a double take. The throne was made of a dozen immortals frozen in time after being drained of life, their bodies contorted in different positions to fabricate a chair.
“Ladies,” Penelope announced, “I’m both sad and happy to report tonight’s delivery service is a go.”
He pursed his lips as he surveyed the “ladies.” Twenty-two wraiths waited in a line. Bones and hair in sackcloth; that’s what they were. None had chosen a palatable form like their queen.
Hate wraiths. Before he left this realm, he would find a way to slay each and every spectral here. Had these creatures not appeared above him, bearing Blythe’s image, his harphantom would not be forced to compete in the tournament.
Behind them, twenty-three prehistoric beasts like the one-horned monstrosity who’d pushed Blythe into the arena were chained to a wall. Each animal surveyed him with ravenous, beady eyes.
They’ll get theirs, too.
“He’s in a hurry,” Penelope told her followers, “so there’s no reason to make introductions or politely await your turn.” She clapped, all haughty disdain. “Well? Didn’t you hear me? Go, go, go. Feast!”
There was no time to brace. In seconds, the beings surrounded him, adhering their mouths to some part of his body. Not physically, but spiritually, and that was so much worse. They sucked on him from the inside. The pulling sensation never ended. Cold infiltrated his limbs and torso.
Phantoms did this, too. Which made sense, considering Erebus based the creation of his phantoms off wraiths.
Wraiths had come into being because of a curse. Knowing this, the Dark One used some kind of evil force to similarly curse those he killed, binding their life to his for the rest of eternity, forcing them to obey his every command.
Suction sounds filled Roux’s ears, and pulling sensations worsened. The cold spread, going deeper. He cringed, the urge to fight nearly irresistible. From Blythe’s exquisite kiss to this. From sizzling heat to frigid chill.
Weakness soon invaded. More than he’d expected.
The defenses in his mental prison crumbled. Prisoners rushed free.
“Oh, Astra. I forgot to mention.” All calculation and delight, Penelope floated in front of him. “In your haste to save the harphantom, you neglected to set a limit to how much of you my people can drink during each setting. Therefore, I took the liberty of deciding for you. In case you’re wondering, it’s however much they want. Try not to die.”
He attempted to respond, but he discovered he had no voice. Screams erupted. Thousands upon thousands of screams.
Do not black out. Do not...
19
THE LIGHT
Blythe paced before the crackling hearth, her wings flapping through the slits in her T-shirt, and her mind a mess. The storm had finally let up, but an icy wind continued to bluster inside the bedroom. Candles flickered all around, helping to warm the chamber without the presence of Roux the furnace.
If she’d been home, she might’ve taken Isla shopping or settled in an engaging book about torture techniques. But she wasn’t home and she wasn’t in the mood to read anything but the room—with the Astra in it. Where had he gone? Who was he with? The Phoenix, as Blythe suspected? What was he doing? Thinking? Feeling?
As she strode back and forth, stomping her feet, she scraped her claws over the hearth’s stone frame. A romantic association between the Astra and the Phoenix shouldn’t bother her. Roux’s comings and goings didn’t matter. Dead enemy walking, remember? But it bothered her. It mattered. She’d let him kiss her. They’d almost had sex.