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)
“From whom?”
“I do not recognize the seal.” She hands it to Zander.
“Kier.” His eyes dart to me before he snaps it open. And exhales. “This is Atticus’s handwriting.”
Abarrane barks with laughter. “See? That silver-tongued fool goes from captured to writing letters.”
Chuckles fill the tent as everyone waits to hear what the treasonous brother-king has to say.
“Fates.” All blood drains from Zander’s face. “Theon, when did you last receive word from Bellcross?”
48
Atticus
I inhale Islor’s crisp country air, free of the brine that clings to the coast.
“How does it feel to ride a horse across your own land again?” King Cheral canters beside me, a modest cloak draped over his finery to hide his station as our group of twenty moves inland along the Sanguine River like common raiders. Given the new king in place and the potential of blades aimed upon our arrival, we avoided the trading port east of Kettling and chose the narrower, quieter gulf on the west side, coming ashore in the night.
“I would prefer my own horse, though I imagine it did not survive the battle. Unless your conjurer can resurrect him?” I lean forward to find Tuella, who rides stiffly on King Cheral’s other side. It reminds me of Romeria’s early days on horseback. Clearly, she doesn’t spend much time in the saddle.
“The light cannot reach beyond the realm of the living, usurper king,” she says.
“And what can it do?”
“Fight the shadow.”
“Still with that.” I roll my shoulder to test it. Nearly healed. I can’t imagine the gnarly scar that merth ax left behind. “And what am I to fight with? My winning personality?”
King Cheral’s laughter is jovial. “It has done you well so far.”
“You will have to allow me a weapon soon enough.”
“Have I not already? I gave you a quill and ink after all, did I not?”
“And hovered over my shoulder, dictating my every word.”
He shrugs. “I had to make sure you did not layer a secret message within.”
“And what would that be? ‘Please, do not kill me, Dear Brother, though I probably deserve it’?” Would the letter have reached Zander by now? Likely. And, if he hasn’t seen the colossal danger heading his way, he will very soon.
“Trust is earned, not granted, especially not to an enemy.”
You trusted me well enough alone with your wife. I bite my tongue, stealing a glance behind us. Satoria rides easily, a secretive smile on her lips as she takes in the rolling hills leading to Aminadav’s plains ahead. There’s no woodenness in her form.
“The cabin on the ship was a nice touch.” I waited for Satoria to slink in, even just for the few minutes of company, but she never did.
“I thought it better than being chained in the hull,” King Cheral says.
“Oh, I don’t know. I do miss the delightful company I had on the way to Ostros.”
The soldier who buried his blade in my back smirks and says something in his language. The other soldiers laugh and sneer until I grin back and their amusement withers.
Maybe they can read that look for what it means—that I’m going to enjoy killing them all.
“How much longer?” King Cheral tugs at his cloak collar as if uncomfortable.
“It depends. The plains are vast.” And he has been tight-lipped about where the army has camped. “If I knew where we were headed, I would be able to give you an idea.”
He peeks at Satoria. Whatever wordless exchange they share must be enough to convince him to loosen his tongue. “They have found adequate ground outside of a village named Baymeadow. Have you heard of it?”
I smile. “I have.” It’s where Gracen grew up. I check the position of the sun. “At this pace, we should arrive by nightfall.” The wagon that carries Tuella’s golden bird bath has set the leisurely pace.
King Cheral nudges his horse with his heels, goading it faster.
49
Tyree
“You have a little …” I drag my finger over my collarbone, in the spot where hay clings to Annika’s skin. Our wagon bumps along the road at a clip, the countless honey jars rattling. Destry is curled up on the floor by our feet, stinking of mead. I’m not sure she even made it to her bed last night, given she stumbled into the barn before the sun rose to announce that we were were leaving in five minutes.
Annika frowns as she peers down, angling her head. “Where?”
“Right …” I reach over and pick it off her, allowing my fingertips a moment to slide across her skin, reveling in the softness of it. “Here.”
She groans. “I have been finding it everywhere.”
“I can’t imagine why,” I say with a sly smile.
Her eyes flash with heat, but she covers the reaction with a mask of annoyance. “Because we slept in a barn like wild animals.”
My smile stretches. “Like wild animals. Yes. Definitely.”