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)
Townfolk pause in streets and shop windows to watch the legionaries peel off in various directions with their horses. To scout for enemies, or maybe for a vein. I wonder if these people have ever seen one of the king’s elite warriors before.
“Abarrane, seek out the supplies we need. And have Zorya collect a change of clothing for us.” Zander’s gaze stalls on a barefoot little boy strolling through the street, his pants torn. “Pay the people adequately for all that we procure. And stop intimidating them.”
“Your Highness.” She holds a hand in the air, palm up, and Elisaf tosses a hefty change purse he produced from his pocket. With a curt bow, she takes off.
“Elisaf, take five legionaries and escort Gesine and Romeria to the manor before you leave on your task. I will follow shortly.”
But worry gnaws at my stomach. “Zander, this is Lord Danthrin’s place. Do you remember? The asshole from the market? The one who burns children for eating wormy apples?”
His eyes shift to me, veiled of all emotion. “Yes, I recall. The one you wanted my guards to castrate.”
Horik clears his throat.
“He would have been at the square, and he knows my face. We can’t stay in his house with him. He’ll slit my throat while I’m sleeping—”
“He’s not here, and do you honestly think I would allow him in the same room as you?” Zander says with forced patience.
I swallow. I’m used to the aloof version of the king, but right now, I hate it. “How do you know he’s not here?”
“Because Danthrin would not leave the city when there is a new king buying loyalty with lands and titles. Lowly noblemen like him will force their way in for an audience. He’s probably in the castle, on his knees, groveling as we speak.”
An alarm swells inside me. “Gracen and her children are in the castle.” What if I rescued them only to have them land back in that monster’s hands—
“Atticus will not release that family to him,” he assures me. “Not if he knows the truth, and I promise you Corrin will inform him.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” Atticus hates me. Why wouldn’t he send them back as a punishment?
“I think I know my brother.”
“Given current circumstances, I beg to differ.”
Zander’s lips twist with distaste. “You are right. Perhaps not as well as you got to know him during all those late-night games of draughts on your journey south.” He sets his horse in motion, cantering down a side street.
That was not me, I want to scream.
A soft hand settles on my shoulder. “Let him be.” Gesine’s expression is full of sympathy.
I grit my teeth as we pass through town.
Where most homes within Freywich are built using everything from twigs to pine boards to plaster, Lord Danthrin’s manor is solid stone, five times the size of anything else in the village and surrounded by its own wall.
If he’s a lowly nobleman in an impoverished town, I’d hate to see how more prosperous noblemen live.
The guard who rushed ahead to announce the king is waiting at the open gate with another. A woman in a flowing white gown approaches us along a path that cuts through a rose garden. Elven, surely, by the way she carries herself, much like the ones who spent their days gossiping in the royal gardens. Behind her, a young woman follows. If her simple gray linen dress doesn’t mark her as a servant, the golden ear cuff does.
“Lady Danthrin?” Elisaf asks.
“That is correct.” Her blond hair is collected at her nape in a tidy chignon.
This is that pompous snake’s wife? And his child, I presume, taking in how her palms settle on her swollen belly. Which means they requested access to the nymphaeum on Hudem, and Zander’s father granted it. Does she know the terrible things her husband does to the mortal servants in their household?
Her piercing blue eyes skitter over our faces, lingering on mine a moment before dismissing me. She assumes I’m just another Islorian elven. Gesine’s shriveled morels must be working because she doesn’t seem to suspect she has the Ybarisan princess at her doorstep. “Will the king be arriving shortly?” Her voice is smooth with an air of snootiness.
“Indeed, he will. He had matters to attend to.”
“My lady.” She glares at Elisaf. “You will address me appropriately for my station, soldier.”
Elisaf dips his head in acknowledgment. “Yes, of course, my lady.”
I gnash my teeth. Sometimes I wish Elisaf was capable of being an asshole.
She sizes up Gesine. “You are one of the king’s priestesses?”
Gesine nods.
“I would request that you attend to me later. I would like to know how my child is faring.”
“It would be a pleasure, my lady.” Gesine’s smile is warm and genuine, and I wish she would also be less so.
“My people are preparing two rooms as we speak. That is all I can spare. The stables are to the left. Your soldiers will be crowded, but I should expect they find suitable respite there for the night.” Displeasure mars Lady Danthrin’s features as she regards the legionaries with us.