A Curse of Blood & Stone – Fate & Flame Read Online K.A. Tucker

Categories Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance, Vampires Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
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Elisaf’s lips purse. “Then we will have to come back for her tomorrow—”

“I am not leaving her again. You heard what she said. She has seen something.”

“Something that makes little sense.”

“I do not pretend to understand what it means, but we must try to decipher it. Seeing her now, like this … I fear every day may be her last. We must take her tonight.”

Elisaf paces the tiny room.

“What about that wagon?” I say suddenly. “That’s how they brought her here, right?”

Elisaf shakes his head. “That will not work. They close the gates at dusk for safety. No one travels in or out without intense scrutiny, and I assure you, two collared women will draw that.”

“Then we must leave before dark,” Gesine announces. “We must leave immediately.”

“We cannot. We are to meet Zander in the courtyard.”

But Gesine’s right, and my mind spins on the solution. “So then we split up. Jarek can go with Gesine and Ianca—”

“The only way Jarek will leave without you is if he is sent to Azo’dem with a blade through his heart. And before you suggest it, neither will I.” Elisaf’s tone carries that rare edge—still polite, but unyielding.

“And I won’t leave the city without knowing Zander hasn’t been chained up by Rengard.”

“Then we are at an impasse.”

“No, we’re not. Zorya can get Gesine and Ianca outside the wall. We’ll wait inside for Zander and Abarrane and then meet them after.”

Elisaf bites his bottom lip in thought.

“We don’t have a choice. Whether today or tomorrow, Ianca needs to leave in a wagon out that gate. Tomorrow, all the guards may know that Zander was in the city, which means they could be looking for Gesine. And me.”

Elisaf rubs a hand through his hair. “You are right, but for the record, Zander will not appreciate us going against his command.”

“We’re not going against them. We’re modifying them, given changing circumstances.”

“Remind him of that when he’s holding a blade to my throat,” he mutters.

16

Zander

“I did tell you what I thought of this plan, did I not?”

I sidestep a mortal hauling a bag of grain over his shoulder. The upward climb from the market is steep and sweat pours from the man’s forehead. “That you do not approve, that I am an idiot, and we will both likely get ourselves killed, in which case you will haunt me in Azo’dem for all eternity.”

“Oh, good.” Abarrane nods with satisfaction. “I wanted to be certain you heard me.”

I smirk at the warrior. She has commanded the Legion for nearly a century, after the last commander fell during the war at the rift. My father always warned me that my gravest mistake as king would be losing her counsel, loyalty, or sword. It’s probably why I never acted on the brazen suggestions she’s made over the years, the Legion commander attempting to bed the prince. A joke, perhaps, or a test to see what kind of leader I would be. Either way, I’m happy I abstained. I value my friends too greatly, especially now.

Which is why I am banking on my friendship with Theon standing against Atticus’s preposterous claims that I want to see Islor fall.

It’s been decades since I visited Bellcross. Not much has changed, though the streets seem busier than when Theon and I were mere children running around, causing mischief. The lord’s castle ahead looks much the same, save for the vines growing along the wall, the mature trees that fill out the private garden, and the red clay tiles on roofs that were once thatched.

Behind us, a clock tower gongs seven times, drawing my focus down over the city. Time is moving quickly, and Romeria is somewhere out there. A key caster with no clue how to wield her power, in the poisonous body of Ybaris’s heir to the throne, weaving around the clueless folk of Bellcross.

I can still feel her slight body pressed against mine from earlier. Despite my best efforts to keep my distance, for those brief moments, enclosed in that tiny space within the wall, I lost my resolve. I was ready to ignore all our problems. I didn’t want to let her go.

“You fret worse than Corrin,” Abarrane scolds. “She has two legionaries, Elisaf, and a caster with her. She will be fine. Worry about keeping your own skin for the meantime.” She jerks her chin ahead, toward the guards at the main gate—three Islorians with shiny suits of armor that have likely never seen a day of battle.

I fear their day is coming, and soon.

“Halt. Come no closer!” the middle one barks, his hand shifting to the pommel of his sword. “State your business or be gone.”

“I am here to see Lord Rengard.”

The one on the left sneers. “My lord does not answer requests from drifters who walk up to his gate.”

“Drifters.” I peer down at my leathers. They may not be kingly, but they are far from impoverished.


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