Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
It’s better this way. Pretha knows Jasalyn better than Misha does and spending too much time with her is inviting trouble. “No. Thank you,” I say. “You should catch up with your family without me.”
He drops his hand with a curt nod, then turns to the stairwell door.
“Misha?” I call when he reaches for the knob. He stops and turns back to me. Regret is a sharp knife in my lungs. I wanted to do this myself, to find the portal myself so he might hate me a little less when this is all over, but if he takes me to the trees he walked among today, I’ll know where to find the portal. I can’t pass up this opportunity. “I would truly like to see the hilucas. I hope you’ll find the time to take me.”
He searches my face for so long I wonder if he can see the traitor beneath this skin. “Perhaps after the ball.”
My stomach knots. The ball where he hopes to find his bride. And what if he does? What if he becomes mad for some female who’s the perfect candidate to be his queen and he has no time to bother with me anymore? What if this female from his dreams appears?
Then you will have to find the Hall of Doors without him.
But the twisting ache in my chest has nothing to do with fears of failing in my mission and everything to do with my renegade heart.
Heartsick and homesick, I wander the castle gardens alone after dinner rather than facing the quiet solitude of my chambers.
The stars are bright tonight and feel close enough to touch. I wish I could reach up and rearrange them. Would I give myself a different fate? If the oracle had never foretold the twin daughter who would end Erith, would I have grown up like my twin brother? Would I be training to become one of the Seven? Or maybe even be one of them by now? Would I have never known the woman who I’ll always see as my mother?
“I thought I might find you out here,” someone says behind me. “My niece has a way of making people contemplate their stars.”
Warmth and pleasure spread through me as I turn to Misha. He strolls toward me, his hands in his pockets. His hair is tied back, and he’s dressed in all black. He’s so beautiful, and my heart aches at the sight of him. “Maybe I was overdue for a little contemplation,” I say as he comes to stand by my side.
“It’s interesting, though, isn’t it? What Lark had to say to you?”
My skin goes clammy. “I haven’t really thought about it.” Such a lie. I’ve thought about little else since I saw them this afternoon. That child wasn’t prophesying for Jas, she was doing it for me. You already know your destiny.
But how can I accept something when I’ve seen the awful outcome?
“I wish you didn’t dread it so much,” Misha says, misreading the sadness on my face. “But I can’t help but wonder at what she said about the timing—about it happening before your birthday.” When he cuts his gaze to me, worry is etched all over his face. “Perhaps it’s time to take you home to see your priestess. Maybe she’ll know—”
“No.”
His brows shoot up. “No? You don’t want to go home?”
“I don’t want to be that close to Mordeus. I . . .” I don’t have to fake the tremble in my voice. The idea of leaving this castle one moment before I have to hurts. I know the end of my time with Misha is coming, and I need to accept that, but seeing an Unseelie priestess would be even worse. I can’t risk her looking too deeply at my blood.
He nods and drops his gaze to his hands. “I’ll admit that I’m shaken by what Lark said.”
“About you breaking my heart?” I ask. I meant it as a joke, but there’s no humor in my voice.
He blows out a breath. “Maybe that too, but mostly I’m shaken by the idea of you turning before your birthday.”
“But didn’t you say the future is constantly shifting, so not all her visions come to light?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then try not to worry about it.”
“How could I possibly do that?”
Because I’m not Jas. Because it’s a waste of your worry and a waste of your energy.
“I do worry,” he says. He looks so wrecked, as if he’s been turning this over and over in his head all evening and it’s left him ravaged. He turns to study a late-blooming mum as he speaks. “I worry because Mab herself said you’d become fae on your eighteenth birthday, and the only reason I can imagine it happening sooner is if you took the Potion of Life. Given how you feel about becoming fae, there’s only one circumstance in which I can imagine you taking that potion.”