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)
It takes some juggling to hold the food and my candle aloft at the same time as I head down the stairs, but the kitchen itself is rather cool compared to above. I set my candle down on the table and open the door to the root cellar, and then peer in.
Dear gods.
He’s got so much food. I get the candle and pull it closer, because I can’t stop staring. His “side” of the root cellar is completely packed, wall to ceiling. Wheels of cheese are stacked on one shelf, and another is full of bags of rounded vegetables. A square crate is full of long, colorful roots and another full of thick, frilled mushrooms. Strips of meat hang down from the ceiling, all carefully tied off onto his side so it leaves no question as to who it belongs to. And down the middle of the cellar, a chalk line has been drawn, clearly demarcating my section from his.
I sniff. As if I’d eat his Fellian onions.
I put my paltry bag on the shelf opposite his and then study his food supplies again. It seems like quite a bit for a single man, even if it’s meant to last for a year. Exactly how much does a Fellian eat? I think of what I’ve learned of his people. They live under the mountains and eschew the light of the sun. They are warlike and cruel. They devour babies that are considered weak.
Well. I suppose there won’t be a lot of babies here in the tower so he’s going to have to supplement with onions.
Feeling a little petty, I notice a barrel full of hard, unshelled nuts is close to the line in the center. With my shoe, I reach out and nudge it, tipping it over onto the dirt floor.
Then I feel like an absolute arse, because it’s food, and no one is bringing any extra to us for the next year. Grumbling to myself, I right the barrel and pick up all the spilled nuts, annoyed with myself. Once I’m done, I dust my hands off and head back to my sled full of trunks. I suppose I might as well unpack and see how much food I have compared to him. I open another trunk, and as I do, I could swear I hear something.
candra
I glance around, holding the candle aloft, but I’m alone. No green eyes gleam out at me from the shadows.
Hm.
I pick through the open trunk. Spices. Nuts. A pouch of something that looks like dirt—
candra
I frown again, grabbing the candle once more. “What sort of game are you playing, Fellian?”
There’s no response. My neck prickles, and I wonder if the tower is haunted from all those that have been here before me. Holding my candle aloft, I circle the large chamber and see nothing amiss. Unnerved, I return to my spot by my trunks.
“Candra!” The voice is barely audible, followed by a quiet scratching. “Princess? Can you hear me?”
I turn in surprise and stare at the sealed doors. Has someone come to let me out already?
Chapter
Nine
Of all the things, I didn’t expect to hear scratching and a voice at the sealed door. At least, not until next year, when they will return and bring me more food supplies. I thought I was abandoned and forgotten by all.
But someone is here. Someone is here and calling my name.
“Is someone there?” I ask aloud, and the knife shivers against my breasts. “Not you, blade.” I press my cheek to the door, listening for the sound of bricks being removed. “Hello?”
“Princess!”
The voice seems to be coming from the bottom of the door. Curious, I drop to my knees and bend over, my ear practically on the floor, my skirts pooling around me. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me! Balon!”
What in the Gray God’s forgotten name? I gasp, hope and delight blooming through my chest. My young lover from court has followed me here? “Balon! You came to rescue me?”
“Rescue you?” He sounds startled. “No, princess, I cannot. But I am here to keep you company. I wanted to show you I have not forgotten you. That I am your faithful man even though we may be separated by the walls of the gods.”
Hot disappointment rips through me. In this moment, I don’t care about the gods. I just want to go home. I want out of this endlessly dark tower. I want a bath drawn up by my maids and for someone else to administer my medicine. I want to be taken care of. I want a breath of fresh air. “I see.”
“Do not be disappointed, princess. Even though we must be separated through your sacrifice, I am determined to come here regularly and keep you company. Shall I sing you songs? Tell you stories?”
Tell me stories?! I want out. I want out so badly that my skin crawls for wanting it. “How is it you’re talking to me? How is it I can hear you?”