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)
But the center of the library is just as impressive, filled with full-size trees and weeping vines, and a stream with carrot-orange fish gliding through.
There are likely countless places to hide within here. No wonder my naughty son would risk the guards’ wrath to venture in. It doesn’t appear like there’s anyone here to cause us any trouble.
“Mika?” I call out, choosing the nearest book aisle to begin my search.
Up and down the empty sections I wander, admiring the spines, curious what knowledge one could find. There are so many noble-born staying in the castle ahead of the wedding, and none of them are here. It’s disappointing. If I had all their freedoms, I would be here every day, learning.
Lord and Lady Danthrin have a library in their manor, but it is just a small room, and none of the books have such elaborate spines, designed by an artist’s touch. I reach up to graze one with my fingertips, to test what it feels like.
“What are you doing in here?” a crisp voice demands.
I startle and spin around, finding myself facing an Islorian female with a curtain of straight black hair. “Milady.” I bow, my heart stuttering with fear. “I apologize, I’m looking for my son. He has a habit of sneaking off.”
“And do you think he is hiding within that book?”
“No, milady. But we do usually find him in tight spots.”
Her attention drops on the sling, as if only then noticing I carry a baby with me. “You’re the castle baker. I recognize you.”
“Yes, milady.” She was obviously at the assembly. My focus was on no one that day but the king and my children. Is she someone important?
Her dark, hostile eyes comb over me, stalling on my unruly hair, and I fight the urge to smooth a hand over the braids I struggled with this morning. “Atticus was generous with you and your little family.”
Atticus. She uses the king’s name as if she knows him well and wants me aware of that. “Yes, he was merciful.” Not only the day of the assembly, but last night, alone in my chamber. He could have demanded anything, taken anything, and I would have had to comply.
She takes a step closer. “I would not have been.” The coldness in her voice sends a shiver through my spine. “Why did that Ybarisan traitor bring you here? Was it so she would have a loyal spy within the household?”
“No—”
“So you could move about the castle unnoticed, fooling everyone with this innocent act while you supply her with information that she could use against us?”
“No!” I swallow. “I never saw Princess Romeria again after the day she rescued us from Lord Danthrin.”
“No, Your Highness,” she hisses, grabbing hold of my biceps and jerking me toward her.
Highness. That means … this is Lady Saoirse? Our future queen?
Fates have mercy on us.
“Settle down, Saoirse. You do not wear that title yet,” a deep voice calls out behind us.
I recognize it immediately, and my heart skips several beats with excitement, despite my fear.
She sneers at me as if she sensed my reaction—she likely did—before plastering on a smile and turning to greet him. “Your Highness! What are you doing here?”
“Keeping you from tormenting my staff, apparently.” The king strolls leisurely along the narrow corridor in breeches and a white tunic that hangs loose and is marked with dirt and lines of blood along the sleeves and chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I was perusing your collection to see if there was something of interest for me when I discovered your baker snooping.”
“Snooping through books. Yes, that sounds positively treasonous.” His expression is even, unreadable, as he winks at me. “Release her now.”
She does as ordered, dusting her hand against her skirt as if it’s coated in filth.
“And did you find something of interest?” The king nods toward the book tucked under her arm.
“Besides this servant of Princess Romeria’s who is not where she should be?” She smiles tightly and slips out the book. Its gold binding glints despite the lack of light. “I thought I should educate myself on my future husband.”
“Master Sicily’s collection on the royal family.” The king hums. “I can’t say how much of my escapades are accurate. He never interviewed me.”
“I will make sure the historian is more thorough going forward, beginning with our nuptials.” She steps toward him.
He smoothly shifts out of reach of her grasp. “Enjoy the rest of your day, Lady Saoirse.”
The dismissal is obvious, and by her clenching jaw, not appreciated. “Your Highness.” With a scathing glance at me, she marches away.
The king watches her disappear around the corner before turning his attention back to me. “So? What do you think of my bride-to-be?”
“She is …” I fumble for a suitable lie.
“Oh, that’s right, I think you shared your feelings already.” He chuckles, and it softens the hard features of his face. “Don’t worry, I share those thoughts.”