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)
We pass a group of warriors perched on their horses, Jarek among them. I avoid meeting his stare.
“My arse feels fantastic today, thanks to you, witch,” the burly redheaded warrior announces, stirring a round of chuckles.
Gesine dips her head. “I am so relieved for you and your arse, Drakon.”
He grins. But his humor evaporates when Jarek bites into a red apple beside him. “If I have to see one more of those fucking things …”
“This one’s sweet, though,” Jarek mumbles between chews. “And I do like them sweet. Isn’t that right, Your Highness?” He caps off his words with a wink.
“No idea.” I race away before he can see my flushed cheeks, ignoring the roar of laughter that follows.
Gesine rushes to catch up. “What did he mean by that?”
“Nothing. He’s a pig.” I dismiss Jarek from my thoughts as I make my way toward Elisaf, who has left Zander’s side. “Where have you been?”
“I missed you too.” He strokes his horse’s muzzle with one hand while cupping a palmful of feed with his other. “I was on an errand for the king.”
“Where?”
“Cirilea.”
My jaw drops with shock. “He sent you back there?”
“As close to it as I could get, yes. Atticus is dispatching riders to every corner of Islor. I intercepted one such message.”
The parchment. It was a letter. “What did it say?”
His brown eyes flitter around our surroundings. “That Atticus has claimed the crown. That Zander is conspiring with the princess of Ybaris to eliminate the world of Islor’s immortals and is considered an enemy to the realm, along with anyone who harbors him. He is working with one of Queen Neilina’s collared casters, who she sent to Islor to provide aid for his plans.”
I curse. He knows Gesine is with us. That could be through Corrin or Wendeline. Or maybe Bexley, the owner of the Goat’s Knoll, who deals in valuable information and likely feels slighted by me. “Will people believe it?”
“It has the royal seal. They have no reason not to. It also tells of the poison running through your veins, and how one drop of it in a mortal’s blood will kill anyone who feeds off them. He has instructed lords to kill any mortal found with a vial on their person or with poison in their veins, without trial, and he has set a bounty on your head. He wants you alive, though.”
“Do I want to know how much?”
“A lordship and a large parcel of fertile land in the plains, and gold. It is quite generous.” Elisaf pauses. “I’ve always fancied myself a title.”
I snort. “How about I call you Lord Elisaf from now on?”
“I suppose that will do.”
A door from the house opens, and Lady Danthrin breezes through in a sky-blue silk dress that looks more suited to a ball than an early-morning farewell in the stables. The girl who brought our breakfast trails her. Eden is still nowhere in sight. While I’d like to think it’s because Lady Danthrin gave her the morning off to sleep, my gut tells me I’m right to worry. “Do you think she knows yet?”
“No, but she will soon. We have stayed too long. Freywich is not high on Atticus’s priority list, but we intercepted two messengers yesterday—one with a letter from Danthrin to his wife, condemning Zander as the gutless king they always believed him to be and hoping your head finds its way to a stake. Another with a letter from an Ambrose Villier to Danthrin, notifying him of the king’s arrival at his house.” Elisaf smirks. “He mentioned the future Ybarisan queen’s distasteful attitude, something I wish I’d been here to witness.”
“How did Zander take it?”
“How do you think he took it?” He flashes me a knowing look.
If I know him at all, Zander will consider it a challenge.
We watch as Lady Danthrin reaches her destination and curtsies. “Your Highness. At last, we meet. I was afraid I would miss you before you left on your travels. I hope you and your company have found your lodging satisfactory?” Her voice is at least two octaves higher.
“All sugar and spice and everything nice for her dear king,” I mutter, earning Elisaf’s chuckle.
Zander doesn’t acknowledge her at first, handing Abarrane the rolled parchment.
“Prepare to move out!” she bellows, and the last of the Legion mount their horses with ease, radiating fresh energy. They needed the rest—and as much as I hate to admit it, the feedings.
With that done, Zander turns his attention to the pregnant elven. “Lady Danthrin, we appreciate your hospitality.” His tone is calm, emotionless, his expression bored.
She beams. “You probably do not recall our first meeting in the throne room, when your father blessed us with the gift of Hudem.” She smooths her hand over her belly, drawing his attention to it. “A terrible thing to happen to a great leader, but we are fortunate to have another fierce king to govern Islor.”