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)
“Because I was sick—”
She waves a hand, dismissing that. “Yes, but they figured out how to treat it. You could have been the sacrifice and I could have gone to court and everything would have been perfect. But no. Mother kept you instead of me, and then Erynne never suggested we switch. I was forgotten. No one wanted me…until Ivornath arrived.” Her eyes flare with intensity. “The Fellians wanted to work with me. And when I suggested we trigger the curse to destroy Lionel’s fleet, Ivornath thought it was an excellent idea. He was going to make me his queen, you know.”
Her cold expression flares with something like hurt, the first real emotion my sister has shown other than pure viciousness.
I can’t help but push just a little more. “But he didn’t.”
“He was going to!”
“When?” I press. “You’ve been here for over two years. When was he going to marry you? When was he going to give you his bite?” I show her my hand, the mark on my palm, just under my thumb. “I was with Nemeth for no time at all and he took me as his—”
“Silence!” my sister cries. “You don’t know our situation! You don’t know anything!”
I give her a smug look, hoping it hides the hammering in my heart. Hoping it hides the fact that I’m reaching for the dagger tucked into the front of my dress, hidden by my shawl. “I know he would have mated you if he’d wanted to—”
“Stop it!”
“I’m just saying that this could have been you.” I rub my stomach with one hand. “If he’d really wanted you, that is. It sounds to me like he was just using you, too—”
Meryliese snarls and lunges for me.
I let her grab me, using this moment to pull my knife free from my dress. It falls into the folds of my gown, and panicked, I claw for it even as my sister pulls my hair and claws at my face.
“Bitch,” she cries. “You don’t get everything! You—”
The moment my fingers close around my dagger I thrust upward, into Meryliese. She grunts, and then hot liquid splashes over my hands. Blood.
She stares down at me, her mouth tinged with red. Her eyes are still filled with hate, and she reaches for my neck, her nails scratching at my skin. I shove the knife in deeper, hating the wet resistance I feel against it. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. “But Nemeth is mine and I’m going to save him.”
Her hand rests against my throat, and for a long moment, I think she’s going to recover and choke me, and I’ve got no strength left, either. We stare at each other, and then Meryliese’s body slumps over mine, heavy and limp.
I tremble.
I just killed my own sister. I just stabbed a person. Meryliese, who should have been dead. Who never had her own life to begin with. I want to understand her—and some part of me does. After all, I left the tower, too. Does she deserve to die for that? Do I?
Doesn’t matter. She tried to come between me and Nemeth and I’d kill her a thousand times if it meant saving him.
I bite back a sob, pushing at my sister’s dead weight. For all that she was slender like Erynne, Meryliese feels as if she weighs a thousand pounds in this moment. I thrust her off of me with my last bit of strength, and her body crashes into the door. The light I perched precariously on the ledge of the door’s window crashes to the ground and breaks, splintering into a thousand pieces near my head.
“Shite,” I mutter aloud to the darkness.
But I’m no longer terrified by the pitch black. I sit up, brushing blood and glass off of my clothes as best I can, and then I reach for my sister’s dead body. With searching fingers, I find the necklace with the key on it, and yank it free. I get to my feet and visualize the doors. I just need to find the one that has Nemeth behind it.
“Nemeth?” I call in the hopes my mate will answer. “Are you here?”
There’s no response. But I have the key now, and I know he’s close. I touch each door, and when I find the wall, I backtrack. He was in the second to the last cell, if I’m correct, and I run my fingers over the door, looking for the lock. When I find it, I pull the padlock off and toss it aside and then step in.
“Nemeth?” I take a step forward. “If you’re not in this cell and I touch a dead body, I’m going to be really mad at you.”
There’s a rustle of wings close by, and then green eyes flare to life, shining in the flat darkness around us. They look fevered and cloudy, but they’re still my Nemeth’s.