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)
“Impossible, and yet it is true. Tuella watched the battle on the night of your blood moon and there was no mistaking her silver eyes or the way she fought alongside your people with the elements. All four of them.”
I have no response.
Has Zander known what she was all this time? Is this why he protected her? Is this why he was willing to lose everything? Because she could bring an end to our blood curse, a dream he’d carried for too long. And look at that, he succeeded. But what will be the cost, now that the Nulling is open? Our people and our lands will be plagued by monsters for the next fifty years? A hundred? Who knows how long.
Was it worth it?
“Show me Cirilea,” I demand, adding a soft, “if you wouldn’t mind.”
The image in the pool of water goes dark as Tuella shuts her eyes.
“She is searching for another kell. We have many in your lands,” King Cheral says softly.
“What else can she connect with?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He watches his conjurer with admiring eyes. “Isn’t she a marvel? I was skeptical at first, when my men returned from Udrel with her. But she has proven herself beyond value many times over.”
“You knew of Cirilea’s plight, even while the gates were closed and messages halted, didn’t you?” Because he has Tuella and these birds at his disposal.
He hums his answer. “Of Cirilea, and of the hidden golden city in the mountains.”
“Ulysede?”
“If that is what it is called. Unfortunately, since your blood moon, our kells can no longer get too close. The creatures who live within do not allow it.”
Tuella’s eyes open again and a new vision appears in the pool, of Fortune’s Channel and the great stone wall of Cirilea ahead.
The bird sails past the docks, showing empty ports. There isn’t so much as a skiff to sail. The quiet streets beyond wear scars of a recent clash—char marks where fires erupted, peasants tossing buckets of water over the cobblestones to wash away blood, debris uncollected. Wagons brim with bodies, but I can’t be sure if those are from battle or the mortals I had executed. The odd body still dangles from a light post, here and there.
The devastation grows worse the closer we get to the castle grounds—the obvious target of this rebellion.
“What did that?” A path of destruction mutilates the royal garden, splintering trees and shattering stone fountains. A large swath of it has turned to ash. Workers attempt to clean, but it is far beyond repair.
“This happened before your blood moon, when our eyes were on the eastern lands,” King Cheral admits.
I’m unable to help myself. “You mean when your army of cowards massacred soldiers sleeping in their tents rather than meet them on the field.”
The guards behind me shift. Surely, I’ll pay for that gibe when they escort me back to my cell.
“That was the price of war, when every advantage is necessary. Whatever or whoever did this, I would not want to make them my enemy.”
The kell swerves toward the quiet castle. A figure stands on the terrace of the king’s chamber, overlooking the devastation, the sun’s rays gleaming off the crown atop his head.
My body tenses. “May we get a look at this new impostor king? Perhaps I might recognize him.”
Tuella—and the kell—obliges, soaring closer, until it settles on the terrace wall, mere feet from the male, allowing me a good view of his dark hair and hard features. He stands regal—in my clothes, nonetheless—as he overlooks the grounds.
As if he is meant to be there.
My fists clench as my chest burns with fury at this pretender who has stolen from my family, who has claimed what does not belong to him by any stretch. “I’ve never seen this male before in my life.”
Cold, brown eyes reflect in the water as the male notices the bird. He crooks his head as if studying it and then holds out his hand and makes a clucking sound. The kell hops over, accepting the upturned palm.
A slow smile stretches across this King Malachi’s lips as he lifts the bird to eye level. “A favorite of the Udrelians, I believe.” His voice is deep and smooth. “Who has come to spy on me, little bird? A king from Kier, perhaps?”
“How does he know?” King Cheral whispers. “How can he tell—”
Suddenly, the image in the pool erupts in flames before vanishing altogether.
Tuella gasps as if coming up for air after being underwater for too long. Her black eyes have returned and in them, I see a mixture of relief and fear.
“What happened?” I wait impatiently for her to catch her breath.
“How did he know we were watching?” King Cheral pushes.
A bead of sweat trickles down her forehead. “There is great power in him.”
“Elven?”
She shakes her head. “He is a creator of the flame.”