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)
A gruff male says something in Kierish and another laughs.
In all the years I’ve walked this earth, why had I not bothered to learn that language? It would be useful now.
Agony splices my skull as a palm strikes my cheek.
“We know you are awake,” says the man, his accent thick, his words stilted. He smells of stale ale and horseradish.
I wait until the pain subsides and then crack an eyelid. We’re in the wooden hull of a ship. On our way to Ostros, no doubt, so this mortal swine can deliver me to his king for a prize. A quick scan around reveals I am alone with these two.
“You are looking for your army?” The soldier grins, flashing crooked teeth. “They are dead. Every last one of them. I made sure of it.”
With a snarl, I flex against the restraints binding my wrists behind my back, the desire to tear this man’s head from his shoulders invigorating. But all I achieve is more pain and a searing burn against my skin.
“Special chains that even your kind cannot break,” he says with a chuckle. “I am surprised you survived, usurper king.”
“Should have left me there. I doubt I’ll be much use to King Cheral,” I croak, my throat raw. Zander will reclaim his throne the moment he discovers it’s empty and leave me to rot in a Kierish dungeon.
Perhaps I deserve it.
I lick my dry lips.
“Thirsty?” The soldier lifts his arm in front of my face, just out of reach. He hisses as he jabs a thumb into a gash above his elbow. A fresh stream of crimson trickles from the spot.
It stirs nothing.
Not a clench in my stomach, not a burn at my gums. In fact, the scent of this human’s blood is as sour and unappealing as the rest of him.
A deep bellow of laughter sails from my lips, filling the ship’s hull.
She did it. Romeria was telling the truth.
With a scowl, the soldier swings the blunt handle of his ax toward my temple.
Everything goes black.
8
Romeria
I stare in amazement as we descend toward Ulysede’s golden gates. The craggy, inhospitable wasteland of yesterday is now bursting with lush trees and a cobblestone road fit for a royal entranceway. When Caindra first veered in this direction, I had no idea where she was taking us.
Caindra lands in a clearing, setting Jarek and me down on the stone.
“She didn’t toss you this time.” It’s become a favorite thing for her to do—cast my Legion commander to the ground like trash, sending him tumbling.
“For once.” Jarek winces as he pulls himself upright, pressing his arm against his side. He’s paler than he was when we left. It could be the flight—he hasn’t adapted as well to the air as I seem to have—but I’m worried. If it were just a scratch, his elven body would have healed by now.
“I should have made the casters take a look at you.” I don’t know if I’m more annoyed with him for dismissing me or with myself for relenting to his stubbornness.
“I’ll be fine.” He peers up at the sky. “I’d be more worried about the old witch. I heard her screaming.”
I hold my breath as the smaller chartreuse dragon swoops toward us. Thankfully, it sets Agatha down with the tenderness of a beast who somehow knows the fragile cargo it carries.
Agatha wobbles on her feet, and Jarek dives to catch the elderly caster a moment before her legs give out.
“Goodness, much thanks.” She tests the fasteners on her leather satchel before smoothing windswept strands of wiry gray hair that escaped her bun during flight. Whatever is in that bag must be important to her. She hasn’t been apart from it since we met. “I will be happy to never do that again.”
I offer an apologetic smile. “Safer and much faster than traveling through the mountains.”
“Be that as it may, I made peace with my sins while in flight and convinced myself that I would not reach this place.” Her eyes widen at the view behind me. “But I am so glad I have.”
Clanking metal and throaty grunts draw our attention to Ulysede’s grand gate—the first of two to enter the secret nymph city hidden for thousands of years.
My breath catches at the line of living, breathing gargoyles that now mark the tunnel’s walls within. They’re identical to the statue versions, in size and ferocity, with rippled gray skin, elongated snouts, and webbed wings tucked behind their shoulders. Deadly spears sit within their grips, their claws nearly as long as the blades. When I first saw the stone versions, I wondered if they might be daaknars—Malachi’s favorite underworld demons and the beast that attacked me that first night. Now that I see the live version, I’ll admit they aren’t as terrible, but still fearsome nonetheless.
They aren’t the only creatures to occupy the tunnel. Scantily clad faeries with pointed ears regard us with curiosity, their wings fluttering behind them. They’re child size, the tops of their heads barely reaching the gargoyles’ waists, but they show no hint of nervousness around the soldiers.