Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 105164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 526(@200wpm)___ 421(@250wpm)___ 351(@300wpm)
Caelan walked up to him and Drayce immediately crouched on the ground, settling his chin on the dirt so his lover could rub his hand along the side of his snout just like he always did. Or at least, since he’d first seen Drayce in his dragon form while on the Isle of Stone.
“He seems the same to me,” Caelan declared, his hand caressing Drayce’s nose. He smiled right into Drayce’s left eye, and Drayce’s heart skipped at the look of open affection and deep love. His dragon form didn’t bother Caelan in the slightest.
“No, he’s got to be bigger,” Eno countered.
Caelan rolled his eyes at Drayce and glanced over at their friends. “Bigger or not, he’s still got his wings. They’ll come in handy in the Ordas.”
“Then we just have to figure out what your powers are,” Rayne stated.
Caelan gazed over his shoulder at Drayce, his smile wilting. Drayce understood his fears, but he wasn’t worried. Caelan would work it all out. And in the meantime, he would do everything to keep his lover, king, and godling safe.
FIVE
Adrian Westergren
He was filthy.
He had more than three days of road dirt, sweat, and gods only knew what else caked on him. He could feel the dirt all the way down to his soul. To get across Ilon as quickly as possible, he’d hitchhiked, stolen, conned, and begged for rides whenever he could. His companions had given him a big chunk of their money and a few things he could possibly trade, but for the most part, Adrian had needed to avoid town and try not to catch anyone’s attention as he’d headed north.
Over three days, he’d skirted civilization as much as possible, pausing here and there to charge his phone and check for messages. There was nothing from the king, but he’d not expected anything from the quartet as they trekked toward the Ordas. There were a couple of messages from Tomas Soto, head of the Royal Guard, containing brief instructions on extraction points near the border. Erya couldn’t risk sending anyone into Ilon to fetch him without risking a war.
Tomas didn’t speak of the prime minister’s death, but Erya had to know of it by now.
The sad part was how tired Adrian felt. He’d been in worse scrapes when he was young. Was he simply out of practice? The last time he’d left Ilon as a teenager, his escape hadn’t been much different from this. It had to be an age thing.
Or maybe it was just that he was still getting over fighting giant alligators, watching the king die, and then riding along the Whitgami River in a smelly tub that reeked of diesel fuel and human sweat. Not to mention constantly glancing over his shoulder and expecting to see Ilon or New Rosanthe soldiers with guns drawn, ready to mow him down.
But as tired as he had to be, Caelan, Drayce, Eno, and Rayne had it worse. They weren’t heading toward civilization with the promise of good food and comfortable beds. They were walking into the Ordas.
And Adrian wished he were with them.
He understood the critical nature of his mission. He was proud the king trusted him with it. He fully intended to do whatever he must to get troops into the Ordas to support the king.
Yet, that knowledge did nothing to ease the ball of worry permanently lodged in the center of his chest. Several times a day, he would mentally reach into his chest and touch the thread he could feel tying him to Caelan. There was a vague sense of the distance between them growing longer, but the strength of the tether never wavered. It was as strong as a steel cable despite seeming little more than a slender piece of twine.
He had a feeling Caelan could sense when he did that, because occasionally there would be a tiny pulse or a twang, as if Caelan had plucked the string. Just to say that he was still there, they were all still there, waiting for Adrian to join them.
And he would. He had to freaking finish his mission.
It was late afternoon on the third day when he was pretty sure he crossed the border into Erya. He’d already been forced to skirt some easy crossing spots, thanks to the heavy presence of Ilon border guards and what he suspected were Empire soldiers in disguise. Instead, he’d headed around the towns and into the farmlands that were near the border. He’d trudged through irrigation canals and through a couple of cattle fields until he’d crossed what he guessed was the border.
As he caught sight of the first border town, he stopped and hunkered down in a grove of trees. The village looked as if it possessed just a few main streets with small shops and houses before it opened up into more farmland. What had him worried were the black SUVs with the darkly tinted windows that were rolling through the streets and parked at different spots. He’d counted six so far. They did not belong in a town like this. They could be from the capital. Or they could be from Ilon or New Rosanthe. Possibly bounty hunters searching for the king and his companions as they tried to make for Stormbreak.