Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Zander.” A slow, mischievous smile touches his lips, and I know he’s decided before he says it out loud. “But you may call me King.”
Whispers flare. Even the guard holding Zander at sword point wavers, his blade shifting away a few inches.
“Fuck.” Jarek heaves a sigh. “This is going to get ugly.”
Isembert’s hand flies up. “Silence!”
Quiet falls.
“King Zander.” If the lord is at all surprised, he hides it well. “What brings us the honor of your appearance?” He sneers, not a hint of deference. “Could it be that you are fleeing the kingdom you lost after bedding that Ybarisan whore and betraying your people?”
“See?” Jarek whispers. “Big, fucking balls.”
I’m going to enjoy crushing them. My ring burns against my finger, and I take deep breaths to calm myself before I turn every mug of ale into a flying weapon.
A muscle twitches in Zander’s jaw, the only sign that the lord’s words bother him.
“The people within these mountains lead simple lives, in relative peace, and may not be current with the political circus of the south. Let me spend a moment enlightening them, for I receive regular news, and the latest is disturbing, to say the least.” Isembert stands and begins pacing around the tavern. “Those Ybarisan monsters you’ve heard rumors of, skulking through villages, intent on destroying Islor with their poison? They were invited to cross the rift by this male”—he jabs a finger toward Zander—“and his family. The Ybarisan princess they swore would bring peace and prosperity to our realm? She has brought war and ruin, the poison that bleeds into Islor the very blood from her veins. It is said just one drop will kill any elven.”
A chorus of gasps sounds. They may have heard about the poison, but clearly they haven’t heard all the details.
“And even after she killed King Eachann and Queen Esma—his parents!—still he promised her the throne next to him, with all its wealth and power. What kind of king does that? Unless he is aligned with her in thought. Unless he has already betrayed his people.”
On instinct, I spin my ring until the stone is hidden and hope the lord doesn’t notice me. Even those bandits could see value in it.
Isembert’s boots scuff across the hardwood as he approaches this side of the room, slowing next to Elisaf, as if taunting him. “Now they flee together, the disgraced King Zander and his poisonous princess, heading north to collect her soldiers and continue what they started. That is why he is here now. Those mortals who hang from the gallows?” He casts a wayward hand toward the square. “They do so because of him. The keepers who were so violently murdered may as well have been by his hand. His, and the realm of Ybaris.”
Isembert is mere feet from us. Any second, he’s going to see Jarek.
“Are you finished yet? Should I clap now or wait?” Zander says, bored.
Isembert spins, turning his attention back to him. “Where is your darling queen now?”
Zander stares at the lord, his expression blank.
“Do you not have anything to say for your misdeeds? Will you not defend yourself at all?”
The corners of Zander’s mouth curl. His signature arrogant smile. “I am a king. I do not explain myself to anyone, especially not petty, self-declared lords who have been permitted to play in the sandbox for far too long.”
A mixture of shock and satisfaction flourishes across countless faces. I imagine they’ve never heard anyone speak to their lord like that, self-declared or not.
Rage morphs Isembert’s features. This can’t end well.
I want to scream at Zander to stop antagonizing him. He has no weapons and can’t tap into his affinity. He’s going to get himself killed.
I focus on my breathing as my panic stirs again.
But Jarek has weapons, as does Elisaf.
I have weapons. A sharp merth dagger that cuts through flesh and affinities that have saved us from dire situations more than once. But it’s not my elven affinity that will help us here.
I toy with my ring and the idea of slipping it off, hoping for the best.
But if they harm Zander, I’m liable to bring down this entire tavern over our heads, and how will that help us?
Two hairy-knuckled fists drop onto the table in front of us. One of the men who came in with Isembert, a beast with broad shoulders and a spiked mace dangling from his shoulder, glares at Jarek. “My lord? This one is with the Legion.”
It’s a few seconds before Isembert peels his focus from Zander. “Ah, the great and terrible Jarek. I should have known this skulking king didn’t enter Norcaster alone. Can I assume that female warrior wandering the streets is also with the Legion? She must be looking for the two others who were here last night, asking questions.”
“Where are they?” Jarek demands to know.