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)
Zorya sniffs—the only sign that the caster’s words might mollify her displeasure.
I add gently, “Gesine trusted her.”
That earns a flinch. But when Zorya regards the old woman again, her expression has softened a touch. “I recall your name.”
Gesine spoke of her often.
Agatha nods, her own grief painted on her face. “She was like a daughter to me.”
Behind us, the gargoyles remain on one knee. “Anything we should know before we go in there?”
Zorya peers over her shoulder, sizing up the nymphs. “They are expecting you, and they grow impatient.”
“Then let’s get to it.” With my head held high, I stroll into my city covered in beast blood.
“Fates,” Agatha whispers, her clouded eyes alight with awe as we pass the second portcullis and step into Ulysede, Loth and Zorya at our flank. The gargoyles march behind us, their footfalls pounding against the stone.
My own reaction to the view isn’t much different, and I’ve been here before. But everything has changed now. What was once an empty city of elaborate stone buildings and summer flowers is now teeming with life. In every direction I look, there are groups of nymphs, perusing wares at wooden carts, devouring pretzels on iron benches, admiring the spray of water fountains. They’ve all paused to stand and gape, equally curious about the newcomers. More gargoyles and faeries, as well as little goblin-like figures with pot bellies and lengthy arms—they’re all so different from one another, save for the fact that they all have wings.
“They’re like the statues,” I note. Do they know who I am?
“They were the statues,” Zorya says. “The stone crumbled at the height of Hudem’s moon, and these creatures emerged. I have never heard a sound so shrill and terrifying in all my life, and that is saying something.”
“But are they all nymphs? Like, different breeds of them?”
Jarek jerks his chin toward Agatha. “What do you know of this?”
“Only ramblings in scripture.” The caster watches with interest as a little goblin child splashes in the nearby fountain. “A seer named Norae told of a world of nymphs as different from each other as water and sand. Different in temperament and in power.”
“Gesine did not speak of this,” Zorya counters. She and the elemental caster had grown close in their time in Ulysede, and it’s clear the warrior held her knowledge in high regard.
“I have spent nearly eight decades living among the oldest forgotten scriptures, of which there are many. Gesine knew much, but I know far more.” Agatha smiles sadly, as if saying her old pupil’s name reminds her of what she has lost. “Norae’s visions were singular and largely disregarded, by myself included, I must admit. As I stand here now, it seems we should have paid closer attention.”
Gesine did allude to there being more than one depiction of the nymphs—some friendly, while others were … not, but there’s no point splitting hairs over what she told to whom.
A blond faery-nymph dressed in pink silk, much like the one at the gate when we arrived, skips past, pawing at Zorya’s belt.
The warrior snarls, swatting her hand. “Those do not know boundaries.”
“Norae drew such a creature.” Agatha frowns. “But I cannot recall the name she gave them.”
“What about the others?” I point toward the gargoyles. “Did she draw them too?”
“They are also familiar, but it has been too long. I apologize, Your Highness. If I could gain access to Mordain’s records—”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sure Lucretia has the answers we need.” If the sylx is willing to share them. Besides, the library inside must have books on these creatures. I turn to the legionaries. “What have they told you so far?”
“Told us?” Zorya snorts. “They do not speak to us. They giggle and grunt and stare. Those have yet to make a sound.” She points to a short, hairless goblin-nymph with webbed feet to match its wings. “The only reason we know they wait for you is because that blasted crypt serpent’s voice fills my head with words. She will not relent.” Zorya’s face pinches with pain. “And she plays cruel games.”
“Tell me about it,” Jarek grumbles, his gaze landing everywhere but on me. “She is probably watching us right now.”
From the direction of the castle, the crowd stirs as a row of tall forms clad in black leather cut through, moving soundlessly toward us. The faeries and goblins scamper out of their path. Even the gargoyles who tower over them step back in deference.
“And what are they?” I ask.
“Another breed of nymphs. They guard the throne and scare the children,” Loth says.
I can see why. The closer they get, the more I can make of their features—sharp cheekbones, papery white skin, hairless skulls that have bones protruding from the top like tiny horns. Their bodies are tall and lean and sculpted for battle, and they move with purpose, bows strapped to their backs.