Total pages in book: 220
Estimated words: 205637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 823(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 823(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
A whip crack rang out. Leala always carried her whip in the holster at her hip, opposite clothes pins, scissors, and other things she might need in tending me.
“Holy fuck,” someone said.
Another crack. “Back off, we’re walking here!” Leala yelled.
“You probably have the coolest lady’s maid in the history of the job,” Nyfain murmured, such sublime happiness in his tone that I couldn’t help tightening my hold around his neck.
“Congratulati—” someone started.
Crack.
“Ow!” they shouted. “Fuck! What the fuck? What was that for? Why the fuck do you have a whip?”
Once we were at our room, Leala rubbed my arm consolingly before shutting the door behind us. Her whip cracked again, and someone shouted before all fell quiet around us but for the murmuring of water along the side of the ship.
“Hey,” Nyfain said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and nestling me into his lap. “What’s the matter? Aren’t you happy?”
I told him about my fears. About what we’d have to face if things didn’t work out.
“I can’t…I can’t imagine having to tell a kingdom full of people if I lose the pregnancy.”
“Hey, hey. Shh.” He stroked my hair back from my face, his touch infinitely gentle. “Dragons are hardy, didn’t my mother tell you? Once the child attaches, there are usually very few preterm issues. The odd exceptions usually have to do with physical exertion, and by that I mean fighting or excessive combat training. That’s why my mom was being so overbearing. You’re a risk taker, Finley—it’s one of the things I love about you. You’ll have new limits now, though, and you shouldn’t learn what those are by nearly dying. I don’t want you to lose our baby.”
His eyes were so deep. So full of love.
“I’ll be good,” I whispered. “I promise.”
He smiled, his severe features softening into utter perfection. He was so handsome it took my breath away. He wrapped his arms around me again, tucking my head underneath his chin and rocking me slowly.
“I don’t have words for how happy I am,” he said, his voice rumbling from deep within his chest. “I don’t have words for how full my heart is. I can’t…”
His voice broke and he hugged me tighter.
“I can’t believe my good fortune,” he said in a ragged whisper. “Thank you for believing in me when I’d lost all hope. Thank you for forcing me to find my way out of the darkness so that I might once again enjoy the light. I love you, Finley. Please guard my heart. It is yours forever.”
A tear slipped down my cheek. “I love you too.” I sniffed. “But you did actually help, you know. I didn’t just do this on my own.”
“Hadriel asked me if I was sure it was mine,” he said.
I pulled back so he could see my frown. “Was he trying to die or something?”
Nyfain chuckled. “He was apparently testing me. He wanted to see if I had any doubts because of what I learned about my real father.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Ah. I guess I can see that. And you rushed him. That’s what he meant when he said he’d almost died.”
“He was exaggerating.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet he was.” I quirked an eyebrow at him. “And? What was the result of the test?”
“He apparently sharted, but my reaction pleased him. Especially the part where I didn’t kill him.”
“That was sweet of him, I guess. There were probably better ways he could’ve gone about it, though.”
Something flashed in Nyfain’s eyes, so fast I almost doubted I’d seen it at all. The next moment, his eyes had cleared and he was standing me up.
“We should arrive at Narvos Kingdom tomorrow evening,” he said, his eyes liquid gold. He unfastened the three buttons at my neck. “News will have spread among the ships about your…condition.” I arched my eyebrow at him again, and he smiled, trailing his fingers along the sides of my neck. I closed my eyes, savoring his touch. “They won’t begrudge us some alone time before we have to go to work.”
He bent down and grabbed the hem of my slip before lifting. He peeled it away gently before tossing it to the side, pausing when he noticed the desk we’d ruined.
It looked like it had been patched up by a child. Random pieces of wood had been stuck to splintered sections with nails that were too big or nailed halfway in and then bent sideways. The top slanted right at a downward angle, no two corners at the same height. A folded-up sock propped up the back right leg, and the other three legs were broken and taped.
“I didn’t think we’d broken it that badly,” I said.
“Forget us breaking it, what sort of a fix is this? I would’ve thought the faeries had more skill in woodworking, even deck hands.”