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)
Cry about it tomorrow, I remind myself. Keep going. One foot in front of the other.
I head back upstairs with my candle, and this time I go up the other staircase. It curves around, the steps narrow and tall, hugging along the interior wall of the tower. There’s a few more narrow tapestries here, but they’re so faded and gray that I can’t tell what I’m supposed to be looking at. I count forty steps before I come to a landing, and, panting, I pause at the top and look around. On the first landing, there’s a large wooden door similar to the exterior door, and two smaller ones farther down the curving hall. After a momentary exploration, I pause in front of the largest door. Is this where the Fellian is? Or is this my room? Or something else?
I’ll never know unless I open the door, I reason with myself, and, with a burst of bravery, I push it open.
It’s dark inside, my candle flickering with the breeze the door creates. I hold my light outward, and then the green eyes blink into existence. Before I can suck in a breath, someone hisses at me.
“This chamber is mine.”
My lips part. I gape in shock and nearly drop my candle.
That is not a woman’s voice. It’s deep and rich and very, very angry.
For a brief moment, I’m terrified. Fear quickly gives way to indignation, and I draw myself up straight. What kind of fools sent me to live seven years in a locked tower with a grown man? An enemy man? Are they not concerned with my virtue?
(I mean, I’m not, but that doesn’t mean others shouldn’t be.)
“Excuse you,” I snap back at him. “I live here now, too. I’m trying to find out where my quarters will be, so don’t get snippy with me.”
“It’s not in here,” he snarls, nothing but a pair of glittering, unholy eyes in the darkness. “You can have the next floor. This one is mine.”
“Fine,” I retort. With a withering glare, I toss my head and march down the hall.
It’s only when the door slams shut again that I can breathe. I suck in a deep lungful of air, tremors racing through me. Fellians are devils. Worse than devils. And I’m trapped in here with an adult one. I’ve been trying not to think about Erynne’s warning, but knowing that my companion is an adult male changes things.
I might have to kill him after all.
I find the stairwell for the next floor and head up another forty stairs. By the time I make it to the top, I’m dizzy and nauseated, reminding me that I need to take my medicine soon. The thought of returning down the stairs and digging through all those trunks is daunting, though, and since I’m already up here, I figure I might as well have a look around.
There are three doors on “my” floor, and it seems to be laid out the same as the last one. I open the heavy wooden door and this time, I’m not greeted by an angry Fellian. This time, all is silent, and I step inside what must be my bedroom. There’s a fireplace, but a small one, and there’s no way I’ll be able to climb up the chimney here. An old, narrow rope bed is against one wall, but there’s no bedtick and I don’t know if I have one packed. There’s a small wooden table off to the side and a faded gray tapestry hanging on one wall and…that’s it. I think of my opulent quarters back at the palace, with the thick rugs on the floor and my oversized canopied bed. I think of the large window that overlooked the gardens and my attached bathing chamber, and my jaw clenches tight.
Wordless, I go to the next room. A garderobe, which is little more than a creaky wooden seat with a hole cut into it, the waste splashing down…somewhere. And the third door on this floor is a small storage closet, with a couple of old empty trunks left from prior inhabitants, as well as a few discarded pieces of ancient, outdated clothing.
I head upstairs, and the final floor in the tower seems to be nothing but storage for old, broken things. There’s a rotting trunk, what looks like scattered armor, and a few wooden candelabras. A table with a broken leg. A book that looks like it might fall apart if I touch it.
Junk. Nothing but junk.
For someone that’s supposed to be serving the goddess for the next seven years, this tower isn’t exactly welcoming. It’s not comfortable. It’s got the bare minimum of necessities. And it has far too many stairs for a gently-bred princess with a blood curse. Already I’m exhausted, and I haven’t eaten, haven’t unpacked, and certainly haven’t taken my medicine. I return to the floor below and to my quarters. I stare at the rope bed for a long moment, and then, fighting fatigue and helplessness, I set the candle on the table nearby and climb into the bed. The ropes dig into my skin uncomfortably, but I’m too tired and disheartened to care. I close my eyes and curl up as best I can.