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)
Pacing my cell wears me out in minutes instead of hours and makes me more exhausted instead of keeping me alert. The dungeon’s too dark, and flooding my cell with light to keep myself awake uses more magic than I can spare so soon after my brush with death. Talking to myself gets old after an hour or two.
I doubt I lasted a whole day before my dreams dragged me under.
When I wake up, I’m in my own skin for the first time in three years, and it’s such a relief. Like taking off a pair of boots that are a little too tight. I’d revel in it, stretch like a cat, if the consequences weren’t so terrifying.
I’m dead.
I wonder how well guarded this dungeon is. Erith will come for me now—will know where I am now that I’m in my body again—and being down here might be the only way I survive. If Misha doesn’t kill me first.
I know I’m not alone before I even open my eyes. I feel him.
Misha is in the cell with me. It’s dark, but I can make out the long lines of his silhouette as he lounges against the opposite wall, sitting with legs wide, knees bent. I don’t dare move toward him. He could crush me with his magic. I see the rage in his eyes when they meet mine, and I realize he might.
With a snap of his fingers, fire ignites from his fingertips, and the flickering flames cast shadows that accentuate his angular features. “Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?” he asks, waving his free hand up and down to indicate my form. My true form.
I flinch. I suppose it might feel that way to him. I’m nothing like Jasalyn. Not nearly as appealing by traditional standards. Though I’ve not been in this body for three years, I don’t need a mirror to know it’s not changed much from how I looked at sixteen.
A joke. I wish he had kicked me instead.
“What do you want with my court and our Hall of Doors?” Misha asks.
I bow my head and don’t respond.
“I’ll admit I’m impressed,” he says. “I’ve never met a shifter with such impeccable abilities nor one with the ability to alter her scent so precisely. You fooled even Finn’s wolves. Perhaps I’ve underestimated shifters.”
“I’m not a shifter,” I whisper.
He scoffs. “Well, you are certainly something, and it’s not Jasalyn. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible. I welcomed you into my castle, let you live under my roof.” He narrows his eyes, and I sense what he’s not saying. It’s worse than me living here. Worse than me fooling him for all these days. He had feelings for me. Believed he might have a future with Jasalyn. And not just any future but the kind he craves. I made him believe he had a chance at love and family. For that he may never forgive me.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and I’ve never meant an apology so sincerely.
“I suppose you want me to believe that.” He scoffs. “I know who you are, Felicity, daughter of Erith, Patriarch of the Seven.”
A chill runs down my spine at the sound of my name on his lips. He knows. He knows everything. “You broke into my head.” My chest aches. He never would’ve done that if he still had any respect for me.
“You broke into my castle,” he growls. “I’d heard of you. I know the oracle told your father that his wife would give him twins. A boy and a girl. She told him the daughter would end his life. I know that your mother paid her midwife to hide you when you were born and to present your brother to her husband as a solo babe. I know that midwife ran to the other side of Elora to give you to another family, the Kendricks, who raised you and kept you safe—until Mordeus told your father of your mother’s deception, and Erith put together a team to find you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. He knows more about me than I knew about myself until I was sixteen years old. The day Erith’s soldiers showed up at our home was the beginning of the end of a life I cherished. Dad died trying to give Mom the time she needed to hide me, and when the soldiers left, Mom had no choice but to tell me the truth about my birth, about my father, and about my destiny. She sent me to the oracle then, hoping I might be shown a path to safety. Instead, I was shown an image of my birth father for the first time. After watching myself plunge a blade into Erith’s heart, I was shown Hale’s death, and found myself in a deadlock with fate.