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)
Mordain is no longer an enemy to Islor, with casters choosing to remain south of the rift and begin new lives here. Others have settled in towns and villages throughout Ybaris, by choice and not duty. And many, including the elementals previously serving Queen Neilina, now spend their days in Nyos, helping Allegra rebuild Mordain with a new focus on knowledge and history.
Wendeline has returned to Mordain, to lead a quiet life in a cottage, surrounded by children in need of a home.
The wards are lifted, allowing me free passage in and out, which I only do on occasion, usually to shuttle scribes to and from Ulysede. Many of them have remained, devouring ancient tomes and putting quill to paper to ensure our own stories are not lost, while also trying to learn what they can of the nymphs. We still haven’t scratched the surface of understanding how they work.
I visit Ulysede almost every day, if not to ruffle Mika’s hair and see Eden and Pan, who have grown close, then to check on Cahill’s elemental training and fill in the smallest details about Gesine for Agatha. She keeps warning me that she might die before she finishes writing it all down, but Solange insists the old caster will outlive all of us.
Not everything is perfect, though. There are those who long for the old days of keepers and blood currency, and others who do not understand why Islor should share our harvest with other realms, even after we explain that Kier’s waters are still poisoned and Ybaris’s crops are still prone to rot. We have yet to discover how we temper those problems without summoning the fates or the nymphs and paying a steep price. A solution may lie with the conjurers from Udrel, but there is still too much we don’t know about them.
Bellcross struggles to recover from the Saur’goth army, as does much of western Islor. Lord Rengard faces looting and revolt as he rebuilds. I will remain hopeful that the city’s magic, which I discovered that day in the square with Elisaf, is not lost forever.
Most people blame Sofie for the beasts from the Nulling, ignorant to where she came from and how I was involved. Others blame Mordain. Zander and I have not corrected the rumors. We have more important issues to focus on than problems of the past. Some people feel the exiled king and Ybarisan queen do not deserve to be anywhere near Islor’s throne. They are the ones we watch closely, to make sure their criticisms don’t turn into conspiracies, and then rebellion.
The aristocrats are not the only cause for worry. Countless stories of the Saur’goths raping villagers who now find themselves pregnant are rising, with concern over what grows in their wombs. Others are alarmed about the idea of uncollared elementals roaming free to summon the fates at whim. Thankfully, I think the ones who live today have no more interest in meeting their gods than I do. But what about the elementals of tomorrow?
And then there is the question of the Nulling, and of how long Aminadav’s mercy might last. Fifty years? A hundred? A thousand?
Ten?
Only Zander and I, and a select few enlightened, know to worry about such a thing.
For now, Radomir and Gaellar monitor the rift while we stroke Aminadav’s ego by praising him for his mercy out loud, and pray for centuries of relative peace.
The nymphaeum appears ahead. With an impish grin, I rush for it, my arms behind my back to undo the fasteners of my dress. I leave pieces of it here and there, a tantalizing trail.
By the time I reach the stone pavilion, I’m wearing nothing but the gold ring Zander slipped on my finger the night we married in a quiet ceremony, just days after the war.
I splay my naked body out on the altar, my arms tucked beneath my head like a pillow.
And I wait for Islor’s king.
He appears from the shadows, his sleek form moving stealthily toward me, his hazel eyes blazing. “You wish to take the stone on Hudem?” He shrugs off his embroidered jacket, letting it fall to the ground.
“It’s not like it makes a difference, does it?” Many Islorian immortals have discovered themselves pregnant over the past few months now that the blood curse is gone and the nymphs’ power floods the land. We are not one such couple. Not that we’re trying.
I arch my back, stretching with exaggeration. “I’m just enjoying a quiet night.” We purposely suspended all Hudem’s celebrations, namely Presenting Day, as we work to reinvent Islor in Zander’s vision. Already, a dozen noble seats are filled by well-respected mortals. We tried to give Elisaf a lordship. He requested the deed to the Goat’s Knoll instead.
Zander’s deep chuckle behind me stirs my blood as I listen to him unfasten and kick off his boots. “And you are not worried that we will earn an audience?”