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)
Oh. My face gets hot. I didn’t think about the implications of being in the dark and in his bed with him. “Sit on the edge?” I ask brightly. “Or do you have a chair?”
“A stool,” he says. “But not enough seating for both of us.”
I nod and feel my way down to the edge of the bed and sit, clasping my hands around my candle the moment he lets go of me. His large form sinks down next to me, and when thunder rumbles again, shaking the tower, something warm and leathery skims over my shoulders. A wing.
He jerks when thunder rumbles once more, shaking the bed with his movements. I set my candle to my side and offer my hand to him. “Are storms not like this where you live?”
Nemeth takes my hand in his again. “I live deep inside a mountain. I guess it is muffled where I am.” He pauses. “You are sure we have nothing to worry over?”
“I’m sure.” I pause, then add, “Now poor Balon might have a devil of a time returning to Lios, but we’re fine.”
That elicits a laugh from my companion, and I smile.
“I suppose you think me foolish,” he says after a time. “For thinking we were being attacked.”
“Not at all,” I lie, glad that I’m able to keep a straight face. “I imagine with all the training you received on how to handle living here, it didn’t cover everything. My maid forgot to tell me how to clean my laundry. She was in such a rush that we weren’t able to cover everything, but I think I’ve been managing fairly well. If you notice my gowns are excessively wrinkled, though, please do not point it out. Wrinkles were definitely not covered in my book.”
“A book?” he asks. “You have a book?”
“I do.” I pause for a moment, wondering how much he knows about Meryliese and her untimely death. “My sister was supposed to be the one to come to the tower. Meryliese was an acolyte at the Alabaster Citadel and had trained all her life in preparation for her time in the tower. But when she was on her way here, her ship sank and everyone died. I was told three days before that I was to be the one to come here. I’m not used to looking after myself so my maid made me a book with as much information as she could squeeze into it in such a short period of time.”
“I am sorry about your sister.”
“Me too. I barely knew her, but I’m sorry that I’m trapped here. I’m not supposed to be, and it’s hard to move past the resentment.”
“And you are sick.”
“Yes.” I don’t say more about that. He’s still the enemy, even if we’re holding hands in the darkness.
“The fop that visits you. He was your betrothed?”
I snort. “Balon was not my betrothed.”
“He is a fop, though.”
It’s terrible of me, but I giggle. “He’s young. Hopefully he will grow out of it. And no, definitely not my betrothed. He was just…a diversion.”
“I see.” His tone indicates that he doesn’t see at all.
“What about you?” I ask. “Were you always meant to come here? Or were you a last-moment replacement as well?”
Nemeth is silent for a span. When he finally answers, he says, “My king told me it was my duty to come here. I did not argue. I knew it was a possibility.”
“Because of the bloodline,” I agree. It was always something that had lurked in the corners of my mind, as well. I’d simply thought that since Meryliese was to be the one sent, I was safe.
Clearly I am a fool.
His hand warm in mine, I turn in the darkness towards those green eyes. I know he’s the enemy, but it’s so good to have someone to talk to. Someone that knows the frustrations that I’ve been going through. Yet I can’t say too much to him. He’s still the enemy. We’re not meant to be friendly. I should be looking for the best way to destroy him, not making friends. “Consider yourself lucky that you were prepared. I’m not having much fun learning of all the things that were missed.”
“Mm.” Nemeth is quiet for a moment. “You had someone to do things for you, back in the palace?”
“You didn’t?”
“I am a warrior,” he says, as if that answers everything.
“Yes, well, you can’t shame me for not knowing how to do laundry or make soup. We don’t know what we don’t know, and I only had three days to prepare. If I had prepared better, I should have learned how to read or to play a musical instrument to keep myself occupied.” I shake my head. “The days are so damned long and the darkness is maddening.”
“It bothers you?”
I know I’m saying too much. I just don’t care. This is the first real conversation I’ve had since I’ve been locked in the tower—other than the other run-ins I’ve had with Nemeth. But each of those occasions felt like we were trying to get the upper hand on each other. This feels like something more. So I allow myself to be vulnerable. “I hate it. It’s oppressive and just makes me feel more trapped.”