Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Nemeth groans, pressing his forehead against mine. “Right. You’re right, of course. Ask it about our supplies.”
I hold the blade out again, so he can see the reaction to my questions. “Have we been forgotten?”
A shiver.
I make a sound of distress in my throat. “How in all the gods’ forgotten names did they forget us?”
“Something must be going on outside,” Nemeth says, his arms tightening around my waist. “Something terrible enough that sending food to us is no longer a priority.”
This is my worst fear come to life. Anxious tendrils flare through my body, my limbs feeling cold and numb. “Has Darkfell won the war, then?”
No answer.
“Has Lios?”
No answer.
I exchange a worried look with Nemeth. “Is the war over?” I ask.
No answer.
“It doesn’t mean no,” he reminds me. “Just that it’s not a ‘yes’ to any of those questions.”
“Then the war stretches on,” I reply, fretting. “Maybe things have gotten so bad that whoever is in charge of our supplies is too busy to recall them. But surely my sister would remember to send me food, and your family at Darkfell…” A new idea hits me, and I try a new line of questioning. “Is my sister well?”
Yes, the knife shivers.
“Is she at Castle Lios?”
No answer.
That’s concerning. My sister wouldn’t leave her throne behind—or the castle itself—unless she had to. She’s worked too long and too hard to rule, even if it has to be at Lionel’s side. “Perhaps they had to evacuate,” I say to Nemeth, worried. “And in the chaos we’ve been neglected. What do we do? What should I ask?”
He shakes his head, rubbing my back in sympathy. “You won’t be able to ask it enough questions to clarify a response that will satisfy you. Ask it about our food instead. Ask it how long our supplies can last us. I’ve been saving them in case of such a situation, but I’ll have to recalculate my serving portions now that we have no new supplies of food coming in…”
I ask the knife, “Can our food last us another month?”
A shiver.
“Two months?”
A shiver.
“Three months?”
Silence.
“Well then,” I say, grimacing. “That’s our answer. Maybe someone will arrive in the next three months to resupply us.”
Nemeth grunts, but he doesn’t look convinced.
I decide to ask the knife again. “Will my medicine last three months?”
Silence.
“Two months?”
Silence.
Dragon shite. Nemeth’s hands tighten around my waist painfully, and I make a joke. “Well, the solution is obvious. You’re going to have to kill me and eat me, my love.”
He growls. “That’s not funny, Candra.”
It’s a little funny, but he looks quite upset. For some reason, his worry makes me feel even better. For all that I’ve learned today that makes me fret, I know Nemeth loves me with his whole heart. He could not feign the terror on his face. I lean forward and press a delicate kiss to his cheek. “Someone will come before we have to resort to that. Do not worry.” I pause, thinking. “Do you have any spells that can divine the future?”
Nemeth peppers me with soft, urgent kisses. “If I could tell the future, would we be in this predicament?”
Fair enough. “Then we assume the worst, and we make our supplies stretch. We make my medicine stretch.”
He leans back, eyeing me. “Like you did before? When I found you weak and shivering? It doesn’t work like that.”
I reach up and trace one of his horns idly, trying to distract him away from thoughts of my impending doom. “I did it wrong last time. I gave myself half-doses constantly. I watered them down. This time I think I should do a full dose, but only do it every other day.” At Nemeth’s horrified expression, I smile confidently. “It’ll make my medicine last twice as long.”
“That cannot be good for you.”
“Oh, I imagine I’ll feel pretty rotten every other day, but I would rather feel unpleasant than run out entirely.” I continue to stroke his horns. Ironic how I thought I would be the one needing comforting, but I’m strangely calm. I’m the one that’s easing Nemeth’s worries.
“And if we don’t get more medicine soon?”
“Then we’ll figure something out.” I shrug. “We don’t have any other choices.”
He holds me tight, burying his face against my breasts. “I love you, Candra,” he says, his voice desperate and fervent. “Whatever it takes to save you, I’ll do it. Even if it means leaving the tower—”
“No,” I say quickly, pressing a finger to his lips. “We’ve come this far. We’re not doing that. Don’t even consider it.”
He shakes his head, the look on his face steely. “I won’t let you die.”
“That’s good, because I have no intention of dying.” I run my finger along his horn, enjoying his shudder of arousal. “We take this one day at a time, and we make things stretch. Someone will come for us. We’re too important for them to neglect.” And I deliberately lift my hand from his horn and rub his cock instead. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I could use a good romp in bed.”