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)
Plans are discussed, but the poison in my veins exhausts me, and with no Nemeth to give me his blood, I’m forced to rely on Riza to make me a potion. We’re missing some of the ingredients, so it doesn’t quite do the job I want it to, and I collapse into bed, fatigued and exhausted.
I’m missing the uprising, but I don’t have the energy to protest, much less carry a weapon. Erynne will be the figurehead they need for the humans. Which is fine, because I’m not much of a leader.
I just want Nemeth.
I’m so weak that I can’t get out of bed for what feels like forever. I’m vaguely aware of the others in Tolian’s home, of a cacophony of voices arguing over when is the best time to storm the palace. Of human voices mixed with Fellian. Of my sister Erynne speaking angrily, followed by Riza’s more measured tones.
Some hero I am. I sleep and can’t rise even to relieve myself. Someone has to come in and drag me to the nearest garderobe, because my legs are still numb and weak. The only comfort I have is that the baby in my belly bounces and dances against my bladder as if it has taken all my energy for itself.
I doze in and out of dreams of Nemeth, dreams in which I’m still in the tower. Dreams in which I’m oiling his wings as he reads his atrocious war poetry by the fire, and we’re so happy and content that it feels physically painful to wake up and find myself alone, muscles stiff and aching from my near-death.
At some point, I wake up to see Riza’s face near mine. She’s dressed in pants and a cloak, her expression worried as she presses her fingers to my brow. “You feel warm.”
“I’m fine,” I manage, even though I’m very clearly not. For the first time in what feels like days, the house is silent. Second House practically echoes with how empty it is, and something about that makes my skin prickle. “Where is everyone?”
“They’ve gone ahead,” Riza says. “Tonight is when we take over First House. Your sister will be overthrown. Ajaxi will be captured.”
“Nemeth,” I whimper, sitting upright. It takes a great deal of effort but I manage. “What of Nemeth?”
“They have instructions to leave him be. We’ve made it as clear as we can to the others that he’s not to be harmed.”
I don’t trust it. I’ve seen how incensed Erynne can be around Fellians. And if Second House wants to take over, they have to get rid of First House. What’s to stop any of them from harming Nemeth? They can say it’s an “accident” and no one will be the wiser. That something happened during the uprising. Ajaxi could decide he’s safest if he kills Nemeth before he can fall into the wrong hands.
Nemeth needs me. If nothing else, so I can shield him from the other humans. So I can warn him to be wary of his poisonous brother and my vile sister Meryliese.
So I get to my feet. Or I try to. I stumble and flop onto the floor, breathing hard.
“Princess!” Riza gasps, bending over me. “You must rest!”
I shake my head. “Nemeth needs me. We have to go find him.”
“You’re not well—”
I manage to pull myself off the floor, clutching at her clothing. “Do you think anyone’s going to wait for me to feel better?” When she hesitates, I have my answer. “I don’t care if it takes me all day and all night to get to Nemeth, I have to. I’m the only one that can stop them if they’re determined to hurt him.”
Riza hesitates, and then purses her lips at me. “Wait here. I’ll get a cart.”
Chapter
Eighty-Two
If I ever doubted Riza’s loyalty, ever, I need to be smacked upside the head. My former servant and forever friend tirelessly hauls my cart through the empty streets of Darkfell. She’s panting and sweaty, but doesn’t complain, and I hold her weapons in my numb arms and feel grateful for her loyalty. If I could hug her, I would.
The palace rises in the distance, and as it does, so do the voices. There are shouts of anger, followed by crashes of what sounds like pottery. Colorful hangings are on fire, ash drifting through the still air as we approach the mob of human slaves and the Fellian defectors.
I can’t help but notice there aren’t many Fellians with us.
I also can’t help but notice that every door we pass has a red mark on it, the mark of the plague. It’s terrifying and it makes me even more afraid for Nemeth. I can protect him from an angry mob, but if the plague is in the palace…
“Make way,” Riza cries as she carts me closer. “Make way for Princess Candromeda! We must get inside!”