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)
He pauses.
“And then you were trapped in a horrible tower for two years because of the name you were born with,” I say bitterly.
“No,” Nemeth says quietly. “And then I met someone who showed me that perhaps it is not so bad to be on the ground. It is all about the company.”
I reach over and flick his shoulder. “That’s a lovely story.”
He smiles at me.
“And we both know it’s dragon shite,” I continue, my voice tart.
Nemeth’s smile widens into a grin. He laughs, and some of the unease I’ve felt all day melts away. “It’s not all dragon shite. I do enjoy being with you.”
“Are you afraid to try out your wing?”
He goes back to rubbing my foot, thinking. “It feels tight,” he admits after a moment. “It has for some time. Like it’s pulled taut in one spot. I’m afraid that I could damage it further if I try to use it without a healer looking at it. And as long as I don’t try it out, I don’t know how bad it could be. I can delay the truth for another day.”
“Oh, Nemeth.” My heart aches for him. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could have fixed it better for you.”
He shakes his head. “You did the very best you could. That is all anyone could ask for.” He sets my foot down and picks up my other, dusting it free of sand and then rubbing it as well. “How can I be upset? We have had to fend for ourselves for two years.” Tilting his head, he studies my face. “Which reminds me. We should heat your potion soon.”
“Soon,” I agree, and then wiggle my foot in his grasp. It feels good, the foot rub, but it also feels like a distraction, as if he’s determined to pull me away from a difficult conversation. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow what?”
I wiggle my foot again to get his attention. “Tomorrow you’ll try to fly? For me?”
“You must truly hate walking.”
That does it. Exasperated, I pull my foot out of his grasp and lean forward to cup his face, so he’ll look me in the eye. Why is it this man can lick my pussy with the confidence of a court lothario but gets shy when I ask about his wings? I meet his gaze, stroking his cheek. “It’s not about walking. It’s about knowing our limitations so we know what we have to push past in the future. Just because your wing is tight now doesn’t mean it always will be. It just gives you something to overcome.”
He smiles at me, his cheeks stretching. “How is it that you can make me feel so calm? Even on a day such as today?”
“Because we’re together,” I tell him. “We’re taking control of our destinies. Even if the Golden Moon Goddess frowns down upon us, maybe the Gray God will look after us.”
Nemeth gestures at the rickety barn. “He led us to this, did he not?”
“He could have led us to an inn,” I say tartly, but I let a smile curve my lips. “But this will do for now. So tomorrow morning you’ll fly for me, and then we’ll see how to proceed from there. It’s decided.”
“Stubborn mule,” he says, his voice loving. “But fine. In the morning, I will fly and we will see how it goes.”
“If you really want to speed up our travel, is it safe for you to slide through the shadows? Like you did in the tower?” I bite my lip, because it feels strange to even ask. The magic of it unnerves me, but he said it was safe as long as the area was wide open and visible, and our surroundings certainly are. “But only if it’s safe.”
This time, the look in his eyes grows dark. He shakes his head. “I’m not certain I wish to risk it. When we crossed the water, something felt different than the last time I carried you.”
“Different?” Everything inside me clenches up. Has he figured it out? Has Nemeth discovered my secret already? Does he know I’m pregnant? I keep my eyes wide with innocence, my face carefully blank. “Teleporting me feels different? How?”
He shrugs. “It’s hard to explain. All I know is I don’t wish to try it again. We’re not supposed to shadow-glide with a human anyhow.”
I want to tell him that I have Fellian blood. That somewhere down the line, one of my ancestors—likely the legendary Ravendor herself—had sex with a Fellian and gave birth to his child. That I’m pregnant with his child, too. But the words won’t come. They stick in my throat like honey. I’m afraid something will change between us. That he’ll realize I’m more fragile than he anticipated and leave me behind.
The thought terrifies me. I grab his hand and put a smile on my face to hide my fear. “I can walk.”