Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“They call this their pool of life,” Tyree says.
“They keep death chained in their pool of life?”
At my question, the corpse’s eyelids peel open. Startling white eyes roll toward me.
“Fates,” I gasp. “She is still alive!”
“Barely.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“The sirens brought her to Udrel’s shores two thousand years ago. She was named queen. Technically, she is still Udrel’s queen.”
My jaw drops.
“The conjurers keep her living in this state to feed their connection to this light. She is elven. That is the secret, apparently. They’ve tried this with mortals but none survive. This one, though, has birthed children during her time here. Many, long ago, when she was still strong.”
A sinking realization hits. “This is supposed to be me next.”
“Kal’ana means sacrifice.” Tyree lets that hang heavy in the air.
“But … why?”
“Why do any of us suffer, Annika? Because casters existed here once, and we all know what happens when casters and kings are together.”
“They summon the fates,” I say on an exhale.
“And the fates answered by cursing these people. Every Hudem, or Azokur as they call it, select mortals change into demons. There is no rhyme or reason to who is affected. Child or elderly alike, anyone can turn. The Udrelians call it the demon moon,” he adds bitterly.
“As opposed to our blood moon and our blood curse.” Nausea claims my stomach. “This all comes down to another case of the fates meddling?”
“It’s how it started. But whatever these Azyr conjurers do here”—he waves a hand at the pool and our surroundings—“is to keep the curse at bay. And apparently, it has worked for thousands of years.” Tyree shakes his head. “This kal’ana’s life is all but depleted, and the curse is returning, getting worse each time. Now, on the night of Azokur, the citizens are required to chain themselves in their own homes until the morning and those who turn are executed, their bodies burned.”
“The bonfires in the village.”
He nods.
“There were so many of them.” So many limbs stuffed into the flames.
“And there will be even more next time.”
The weight of his words settles on me. “So, if I do not agree to this, then what?”
“There is no if, Annika.” Tyree turns to me, anger flaring in his eyes. “You are not anyone’s sacrifice. We are leaving now and getting as far from here as we can before they realize we are gone.” As if trying to temper his harsh tone, he collects my face in his hands and says softly, “This will not be something else you have to endure because of my actions.”
I nod, my voice momentarily lost. I regard the shackled female. “We can’t leave her like that.”
“We have no choice. Destry warned me that the Azyr will know the moment she dies, and there will be little chance for our escape.”
“But—”
“No, Annika. She is almost gone, anyway, and we must be far away from here by sunrise.” He collects my hand and leads me to our escape route.
37
Atticus
The approaching footsteps are a touch louder tonight, the effort to unlock the door less stealthy.
“Still not an assassin?” I watch Satoria set her lantern down and cross the floor of my cage.
“What do you think?” She keeps her nightgown on, but she may as well not, given how sheer it is. I won’t complain—it is easy to confirm she has no weapons hidden anywhere.
“I think you are still trying to get me killed.”
“And I think you can accomplish that just as well on your own.” She slips into bed beside me.
Despite my better judgment, I lift an arm to allow her the crook, and she nestles her slight body flush against my side as if we were lovers.
“You smell nice,” she purrs.
“They allowed me use of the bathing pool tonight.” And brought me fresh clothes.
“Because I ordered them to.” Her fingertip trails over my chest, tracing the curves. “How is your injury?”
Her question triggers my need to roll my shoulder. “Nearly healed.” I pause. “I thought the king was supposed to execute me today. Instead, he gave me tea.”
“His family’s ancient blend? I’m surprised you didn’t beg for a sword through your gullet after tasting that.”
I chuckle at her glib answer and enjoy a moment of peaceful quiet before asking, “Why am I still here?”
“Perhaps he likes you.”
“I am a highly likable sort.”
“Or he sees value in keeping you alive.”
“Just as he sees value in sending his wife here to seek information?”
To that, she has no answer, but her teasing hand shifts farther down, to settle above the waistband of my loose-fitting linen pants.
“Tell me, Satoria, how many children do you have with him?”
“None.”
My eyebrows arch. “Four wives and thirty-two offspring, and none are yours?”
“I am incapable of having them. The conjurer says my womb will not produce.”
“That’s … I am sorry.”
“I am not. Minding children has never been my passion, and he has enough of them.”