Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97188 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
It would be convenient to blame our strained silence on nearly dying, but it wouldn’t be the truth. I knew better than to play a game of questions, knew better than to attempt to know this woman better. I’m leaving Threshold, and I don’t make a habit of crushing innocents, regardless of what my reputation says.
But Maeve intrigues me. More than that, I recognize the loss in her. I’ve never had something of such importance stolen—my family heirlooms hardly apply, though my mother might see it differently. It’s not just the loss of Maeve’s pelt that has harmed her; Bronagh broke her heart with his betrayal.
That’s monstrous, even to someone like me.
Catching sight of Khollu on the horizon is a welcome relief. As we row closer, battling the becalmed conditions that Maeve feared when we left Viedna, I get a better look at the island. It could be a rock sticking out of the sea, and I wouldn’t give a shit as long as it has a hot bath, but it’s rather beautiful.
It’s significantly larger than Viedna. At first, I think the color is a trick of the light, but as we get closer, I realize the island really is purple, courtesy of a thick forest that stretches along what bits of it I can see. Great, sprawling trees with leaves that look a bit like flowers, all in half a dozen shades of violet. It’s . . . pretty.
It also makes my face itch as the wind shifts to blast us with a floral scent. I wrinkle my nose. “What the fuck?”
“You’ll get used to it—or so I’m told,” Maeve says wearily. “Help me row. I want a bath.”
“Agreed.” I readjust my grip on the oar—somehow not lost in the storm—and put my back into rowing us to the island as quickly as possible.
I’m pleased to note that there are half a dozen larger ships anchored in the bay. Plenty to choose from—and all are large enough that I should have an actual bunk to sleep in and possibly even access to a shower. Even better, not a single one of them has the crimson sails that mark Cŵn Annwn vessels.
It would be better to circle away from the bay and approach stealthily, but I don’t give a shit. Maeve doesn’t, either. We’re too intent on getting off this damned boat to worry about being sneaky. For once, I don’t even flinch when it’s time to hop into the water to haul the boat onto shore. It’s not as if my boots were dry in the first place.
My nose won’t stop itching, and I rub it furiously with the back of my hand. “How long does it take to get used to the smell?”
“Um.” Maeve ducks her head and pulls the boat a few inches higher onto the beach.
Suspicion flares. She’s absolutely avoiding my gaze, and I don’t like it. “Speak, selkie.”
“Usually by the first month from what I hear.”
A month?
I sneeze. “I’m going to burn this entire fucking island to the ground.”
“Of course you will. First, why don’t we find a room and bath?”
She’s patronizing me, but the offer is a good one. It would be too much effort to try to start that large of a fire, anyways. Everything is so damp in Threshold. I allow her to lead me away from the beach, down a winding path that’s roughly wide enough to drive a car—if Threshold had cars. There are a few crews unloading crates, but they don’t seem to pay much attention to us after an initial curious look. “We lost everything in the storm. We can’t pay for a bath or a bed or even dry clothes.” I’ve never considered myself to be particularly morose, but being damp for days on end will do that to a person.
“Let me worry about that.”
The sinus pressure gets more intense as we squelch our way down the path and to the village proper. It’s cold here—just as cold as back in Viedna, and as we walk, the gloomy clouds overhead open up and it starts snowing.
“I hate this place.” It should be illegal to have seasonal allergies and snow.
“Bath, Lizzie. Think of the bath.”
Since arriving in Threshold, I’ve visited dozens of islands with the crew of the Audacity. With few exceptions, they’re astonishingly mundane. Familiar even. Most of the population is humanoid to some extent, and apparently, while humans may flourish in a number of climates, there are certain consistencies among them. Gravity being one. Some of the islands are more fantastical, but Khollu appears to be of the former variety.
The snow is normal enough. It’s odd that the trees are so vibrantly purple, which seems like it should be a thing reserved for spring, but what do I know? I’m hardly a horticulturist. The air tastes like air. It’s all very normal for a realm that isn’t mine.