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)
But Nemeth is more pious than me. He seems happy with our contribution, smiling at me. “If the gods have noticed us at all, perhaps they’ll notice our efforts, too.”
Noticed us? I don’t see how they couldn’t, given that we abandoned their tower. But I don’t say that aloud. You never say the bad things aloud.
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
Ashort time later, when the sun is setting on the horizon, we come across the first structure we’ve seen since leaving the tower, and it makes me wonder if the gods are looking out for us after all.
Granted, it’s not an inn. It’s a crumbling shed that probably once housed livestock. There’s no house nearby, though a large burnt spot a short distance away tells us what probably happened to it. There are no cattle, no horses, and the hay in the shed looks to be older than I am. But there’s most of a roof and at least three walls, and that’s better than sleeping out in the open.
Nemeth is pleased at the sight of it. “We’ll stop here tonight. Do you need me to clean it out for you? Make a bed?”
I shake my head, tossing down my much-lighter pack and using it as a seat as I rest in the old, moldy hay. “Just lay down a cloak. I don’t care. I’m too tired to care.”
He sets down his pack and crouches near me, a worried expression on his face. “Do you feel well?”
“My feet hurt,” I admit with frustration, even though I know it makes me sound like a whiny child. “They hurt and my shoes are dreadful. Ugly and dreadful. And my face feels hot. And my scalp does, too. And I’m tired and hungry and miserable and part of me wants to go back to the tower and just lay there and starve because it’s easier.”
Nemeth chuckles at my crabby response. “There’s no going back.”
“I know there’s not.” I sigh. “I wouldn’t go back even if we could. I’m just tired and not used to this. And why is my scalp hot?” I touch the top of my head, wincing when it feels scorching.
“You’re red,” Nemeth says, touching a finger gently under my chin and tipping my face toward his. “Your face is bright red and so is your scalp where your hair is parted. Why is this?”
I look down at my hands and sure enough, the backs are bright red with sunburn. I’m stunned—and then I laugh. “I haven’t seen sunlight in two years. I must be truly pale.” I flex my hands and wince at how hot and tight my skin feels. “That’s going to be painful in the morning.”
“What can we do for it? I do not like to see you in pain.”
I think of the delicate, floral-scented lotions I have back at the tower. I didn’t bring them because we only brought necessities, and why would lotion be one? But now I’m regretting it. I shrug. “Not much to do about it except wait for it to heal. Tomorrow I’ll wear a hood. It just felt nice to have the breeze and the sunlight on my face.”
It was really the only nice thing about today.
“I should have left you safe in the tower,” he mutters to himself. “Let me see your feet.”
“I wouldn’t have stayed,” I retort. And I’m wrong—the sunlight wasn’t the only nice thing about today. Being with him is always wonderful. I peek at him as he kneels in front of me, lifting my skirt and taking one of my aching feet in his hand.
He frowns down at them as if they’ve somehow failed me and then pulls one shoe off. “These are useless.”
“I noticed.” I wince when even more sand falls from inside the shoe though we left the beach hours ago. “They weren’t fun to walk in.”
“I will fix them for you before we leave in the morning.” As if it’s his job to tend to me, Nemeth wipes sand away from my toes and then rubs my foot, tsking at the red marks and blisters on my skin. “Tomorrow, when you get tired, I will carry you.”
A thoughtful offer, but it’s one that makes my mind spin into uncomfortable territory. We walked all day today, most of it in pensive silence. The silence bothers me less now than the fact that I have a winged man at my side…and we walked. Not once did he spread his wings, except to shield me from the rain. “Can I ask you a question?”
He looks up from my foot, his eyes glowing. “What is it?”
“I hope this isn’t too personal, but…your wings. You didn’t try to fly today?”
Nemeth is silent for a long moment. He continues to rub my foot, sending skitters of pleasure up my spine. He’s thoughtful as he continues to rub, and eventually speaks. “When we first arrived in the tower, I thought of nothing but my freedom. Of the day I would see wide-open skies above me and then I could fly into the air. Most of Darkfell’s mountains are hollow. Did you know that? The main caverns are hundreds of handspans high, and riddled with tunnels and caves so we can fly back and forth between each other’s homes. There are very few stairs because they are not needed except for the elderly and infirm. I always flew at home. Even at the Alabaster Citadel, my room was situated in a tower on one of the highest parapets. All I had to do was open a window and I could fly out. I flew constantly. It was as necessary as breathing. And then…”