Total pages in book: 201
Estimated words: 191006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 955(@200wpm)___ 764(@250wpm)___ 637(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 955(@200wpm)___ 764(@250wpm)___ 637(@300wpm)
Jarek sighs, but he doesn’t argue. “Can others pass through this with you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then I am going too.”
“They’ll recognize you.” I wave my mask. “I’m wearing this so no one recognizes me. If the guards see us together, the mask won’t help.”
He sets his jaw with determination. “I can blend in.”
“Really?” I eyeball all six-foot-something of him—leather and blades and long braids. “Because I’m pretty sure you can’t be anything other than a legionary, Jarek.”
“You are not going through there alone, Romeria,” he growls. “Talk some sense into her, witch.”
“In this, I must agree with Jarek.” Gesine smiles apologetically. “There is too much at stake if you are caught, and you still have much to learn where your affinities are concerned. Jarek’s sword by your side, where your powers may not help you, will be invaluable—”
“Fates!” Jarek shouts.
I spin around, panicked.
He’s holding Lucretia in the air by one arm, his hand clamped around her neck.
“Put her down,” I warn evenly.
But she’s not struggling against his grip. “You do not like me like this?” She manages through a strangled voice. “How about now?”
My jaw drops as Lucretia morphs into a perfect replica of Eden, right down to the beauty mark on her cheek and her doe eyes.
Jarek’s face twists with horror, and he releases his hold instantly. By the time Lucretia’s feet touch the stone floor, she’s already back to her previous form.
“So you can do that too. Good to know.” I spare a shocked look toward Gesine. Apparently, I need a lesson in sylx abilities.
“Do not sneak up on me like that. Ever.” Jarek snarls.
Amusement flashes in Lucretia’s yellow eyes. “Your advisors provide you with sage counsel, Your Highness,” she purrs, seemingly unbothered by Jarek’s reaction as she strolls around Gesine, her billowing sheer dress—crimson, this time—dragging along the stone floor behind her. “Use those most loyal to you. Allow them to protect you. That is what they are here for. To sacrifice themselves for their queen.”
“No one’s sacrificing themselves for me.” But it would be nice not to face Cirilea alone.
“Pan would offer much assistance in gathering information. He was helpful in Norcaster, was he not?” Gesine suggests. “And no one knows his face.”
“His mark glows, though.” After the tournament, I’m sure everyone in Cirilea knows what that stands for.
“I can cut off his hand,” Zorya offers, her suspicious gaze on Lucretia, who’s doing her usual slinking around.
“Or I can temporarily conceal it for him,” Gesine counters, with an admonishing look at her new not-so-secret lover. “If you can get outside the walls of the castle, you have allies in Cirilea. People who can help you gather information, if they don’t already have the answers,” Gesine continues.
“I can get us outside the walls from the royal garden. And inside the castle. Annika showed me a path the night she helped me escape.”
“And you assume she did not inform her brother that you know of that? That it won’t be either sealed or heavily guarded?” Jarek counters.
I honestly don’t know if she would. Annika has surprised everyone more than once. “But there’s no reason they should think I’m in Cirilea. Worst case, we turn back.”
“No, worst case is you are shot with a merth arrow and die.”
“So, you’re in a glass-half-full kind of mood. Great.”
Jarek ignores me, shifting to Gesine. “Who is this ally you claim we have?”
“A Seacadorian mortal who lives in the Rookery and leads much of the mortal cause. His name is Seamus Potter—”
“Seamus Potter!” Jarek barks with laughter. “You expect us to rely on Seamus Potter?”
“I take it you know him?” I ask.
“Of course, I know him. He’s a petty thief. How he hasn’t been hung yet is beyond me.”
“Hey!” I waggle my finger at Jarek’s face. “Not all thieves are untrustworthy.”
“That one? I trust less than her.” He juts his chin toward Lucretia, capping it off with a severe glare. “He was likely peddling the poison and tainting unsuspecting souls. He could already be dead.”
“Well, whatever else he may be, he has already been an immeasurable help to us,” Gesine says. “He is the reason we found each other in the first place, Romeria.”
“I asked Bexley for help.”
“And she relies on Seamus for many things. If you can get to the Goat’s Knoll, ask the bartender for him. He’s a small man with carrot-colored hair and a weathered face. I am sure he will be more than happy to help if you give him my name.”
Going there means seeing Bexley again. Even with my mask on, that seems risky.
Still, a buzz of adrenaline stirs inside me. There are so many people I have wondered about, and ever since last night, my mind has been spinning over the possibilities. How is Dagny and her family? And Corrin? Did Atticus mark them as enemies? Does Annika think I’m a traitor? Does she hate me? Even Wendeline has been in my thoughts every day. What has Atticus done to her? What did she tell him?