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)
“Bellcross seems like a nice place to live.”
He watches a toddler who crouches low to the ground, coaxing a nearby pigeon over with a piece of bread. His mother lingers not far behind, allowing him this experiment. “It is one of the most civilized cities in Islor. Much of that is on account of its governance. Lord Rengard is considered a noble man and an ally to the mortals.”
“It’s why his tributary wouldn’t take the vial from Tyree.”
“Yes. Because he treats his servants with dignity.”
“Zander treats his well too.” I think often he’s kinder to the mortals than he is to the nobility.
Two young children tear across the cobblestone, chasing a flock of birds. A woman in a simple gray dress chases after them, scolding, while a prim and finely dressed woman trails behind, her face pinched with an odd mixture of irritation and amusement.
“Those two there? That is a mortal and an immortal child. They’re being raised together. That is not a common occurrence anywhere but perhaps here.”
Before I can ask more about the dynamics of that, a shout pulls my attention to the other side of the water fountain. A small crowd gathers where a man stands on the edge of the fountain pool wall, his grip on the collar of a gangly boy.
“What’s going on there?”
Elisaf frowns. “It doesn’t look promising for the mortal.”
I assume the man is a keeper, given his leathers.
I focus my ears to catch any words over the trickling water and buzz of people.
“… saw him toss it into the river outside the wall!”
“It was a coin! I was tossing a coin into the river in memory of my ma!” The boy’s voice cracks. He sounds older than his form would suggest.
The denial earns him a rough jostle.
“His face looks sweet, don’t it? But don’t buy the lies. It’s all an act! He’s been a lazy lout since the day I took his family in, always arguin’ about chores, sleepin’ in piles of hay when he should be stokin’ the fire pot at my forge. Still, I’ve tolerated his behavior, for his mother’s sake. But now she’s gone, and he’s taken the Ybarisan poison to get rid of me, the ingrate!”
“I haven’t!” the boy shouts. If he says anything else, it’s drowned out by the spectators and the growing chant, “Punish him!”
The keeper draws a dagger from his hip and holds it up for all to see.
I clamber to my feet.
Elisaf is a second behind me, grabbing my arm. “What are you doing, Romeria?” he hisses.
“Not just sitting here while they murder that kid. Are you going to help me do something?”
Elisaf curses under his breath but releases me.
I stroll around the water fountain, doing my best to ignore its presence before I accidentally will it to attack. That would only exacerbate the issue.
“The king of Islor has demanded we rid ourselves of this scourge before it can take hold of our lands!”
No, he did not, I want to yell. Do they know Zander no longer sits on the throne? I weave through the growing crowd, getting closer to the speaker as he projects his deep, booming voice over the square.
“His Highness has empowered the keepers of Islor to act now and act swiftly! And if Lord Rengard is not willing to take a stand, we will need to do it ourselves at the king’s command.”
A cheer of support explodes, and the brawny man beams, encouraged.
The boy’s face pales as he looks out over the people demanding his execution. He’s older than I thought, “sweet-looking” as his accuser suggested, with a button nose, expressive, chestnut-colored eyes, and mousy-brown curls across his forehead. He reminds me of Mika. Just as wiry, more noticeable next to this beast with forearms the size of my thighs. The man mentioned a forge. A blacksmith, likely.
Elisaf is on my heels as I reach the front, formulating a plan. Before I can give it too much thought—or any at all—I hop onto the pool’s stone wall.
The keeper stalls in his sermon, his bushy eyebrows pinching together as he studies me. “Yes, miss?”
I shrug nonchalantly and take a bite of my pretzel, more to stall while deciding on my angle. I pretend to ignore the countless gazes now on me. I’m banking on the hope that none of these people traveled to Cirilea to see Princess Romeria. If one of them recognizes me, this will all blow up.
Meanwhile, Elisaf bores holes into my face with his eyes, but I keep my focus on the blacksmith as I chew.
The sudden interruption seems to be working, though, some of his bluster fading as he waits for me to speak. “Can I help you with something?” he prompts.
“I don’t know. Can you?” My flippant answers always drove Tony nuts, but it worked to hide the fear stirring inside me.