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)
True, she had to marry Lionel for some of those things, but I can still be petty in the middle of the night.
“You have to think about the future, Candra. Promise me that if they take you to the tower, you’re not going to run away. That if you cross the threshold, you’re going to stay there. If you forsake your duty at the last moment, all of us will suffer.”
Did she come here to chide me? I’m not going to let our people starve just because of me, no matter how much I like the thought of getting on the back of a horse and just riding away from all my problems. Of how panicked it’d make King Lionel, whose fastest ships are waiting at the harbor for a fair wind, and that if the Golden Moon isn’t given its sacrifice, that the ships will be destroyed, driven against the rocks by the wild winds, and there will be no war with Darkfell.
I like that idea quite a bit…except I can’t ride a horse.
But other than that, I’ve thought about it a great many times, all right. All day today, in fact. But of course I can’t do it. “I’m not going to run away,” I say, bitter. “Where would I go? To Darkfell?” I snort at the absurd idea. “They will impale me on a stake in front of their great stone doors as a warning to all Liosians who venture near. I am trapped, Erynne. If I go to the tower, my life is over.” I spread my hands helplessly. “And if I don’t go to the tower, my life is still over. Lionel will make sure of that.”
Her eyes glitter with tears. “I know, sister. I know. Which is why you must promise me that you’ll go.”
“I’ll go.” I sound as defeated as I feel. “Don’t worry. I will take Meryliese’s place.”
“A shipwreck,” Erynne says, fussing with my covers as tears fall down her cheeks. “I cannot believe a shipwreck is taking you away from me, and just when I need you the most. Do you know how difficult it is to be queen? To be his queen? And with the baby…”
Her words choke off.
I reach out and rub her arm. “I know. But you’ll have Isabella with you. And Riza. She’s trustworthy. Please find a place for her with your staff. And Nurse, too.” I touch her belly briefly. “Nurse will love to take care of this little one for you.”
Erynne gives me a faint smile through her tears. “Here I thought to comfort you, and you’re comforting me.”
“Well, I’ll have seven years to weep into my pillow,” I say brightly. “So I’m saving it up. It’ll give me something to do in the tower.”
She makes another choked sound, and then my sister flings her arms around my neck. “I’m going to miss you so much.”
Even though I’m trying to be strong, it’s hard not to cry as my sister sobs against my shoulder, I hug her tightly, breathing in her scent. It’s going to be the last time I get to hug her for seven long years, and we’ll both be different people when I come out. Seven years of my life is being stolen away from me for Lionel’s war, and I’m so bitter about it I want to spit…except a princess doesn’t spit. So I just hug Erynne and try not to think about the future. One day at a time, I remind myself. Or you’ll collapse before you ever make it to the tower. “I’m going to miss you, too. So much. But you’ll have your baby soon. Every time you think of me, just hug her.”
“But I’m going to be the last Vestalin,” she chokes, hugging me tighter.
My belly clenches. “I’m not dying, Erynne. I’m just getting shut away for seven years.”
“Right. Of course. I’m sorry.” My sister pulls back, and the expression on her face is grave as she studies me. “I brought you something, but you must tell no one that you have it.”
Well this sounds properly ominous. “What is it?”
I’m not sure what to expect from my sister. Erynne has always been the dutiful one, the one who is good and sweet and follows the rules. I’m the one that got caught losing her virginity in the chapel with one of the court knights. I’m the one who falls asleep during Lionel’s speeches, or gets in trouble for embroidering mustaches onto all the important historical tapestries. What could Erynne possibly give me? A dirty book? A key so I can let myself out?
I’m more than a little perturbed when she produces a knife and holds it out to me.
“You want me to kill myself the moment I get into the tower?” I ask, blank with surprise.
“No,” she hisses, grabbing my hand and forcing me to take the sheathed weapon from her hand. “This is to protect you, Candra. Use your head.”