Total pages in book: 209
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 196141 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 981(@200wpm)___ 785(@250wpm)___ 654(@300wpm)
“How dare you stand there so pompously,” she says, her voice still level, still calm yet icy, “speaking of my brother who lies here in a bed, on the verge of final death, because of you.” The parts of her dress that usually shimmer green appear black and deathly in the gloom. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
Tristan’s eyes drop to the bed.
He can’t even make out Markadian’s shape in the sheets.
But he can smell him. The charred skin. The smoke. The fire that raked across his body by Mance’s power.
I never meant for this to happen.
“Give me one reason I should hear another word that comes out of your mouth.”
Technically, none of my words come out of my mouth.
“And you make a joke? Even now? Even here? I did wonder recently if you would die laughing someday.”
You could kill me, reasons Tristan, taking one more step into the room. It would be so easy. You are now the Lordess Regent, with Markadian incapacitated. The directors are here. You could forego need of a tiresome trial and simply kill me in front of them. Or omit even the need for witnesses and kill me right here.
She remains silent, peering down at her brother, eerily calm.
Tristan takes another step. But you don’t. And there’s a reason. He stops at the end of the bed, eyes falling upon Markadian. You need answers. How all of this happened. Who let in the necromancer and the Ferals. And George … is mysteriously absent. You’ve noticed. He has been absent the whole time, nowhere in sight during the whole affair.
Her eyes close. Lips purse. Jaw tightens.
She is holding back with all her might.
Tristan moves to the other side of the bed, across from her, Markadian’s body between them. You are wondering if perhaps there was another reason I buried George. If there wasn’t some other, darker plot afoot right under your nose, something that eluded you completely.
She remains quiet, teeth clenched within her sealed lips.
The reason I buried George … was because he planned it all.
Ashara’s eyes flap open. She turns her face to Tristan.
He worked closely with the necromancer to concoct a nefarious plot, Tristan goes on, that would result in the death of Lord Markadian. He knew the necromancer sought revenge. So did George. He is, himself, formerly Feral. He resents Markadian’s power over him. He resented my return. He hated the violinist being Markadian’s new obsession. He found a way to deal with it all by aligning with his former Ferals, as well as the hateful necromancer, to end Lord Markadian. And George would have ended you, too, had I not intervened and—
“You expect me to believe this farce?” Ashara snaps.
After a moment’s pause, Tristan shakes his head. Of course not. You’re much too smart. He peers back at the door. But they will.
She frowns, glances at the door herself.
The directors don’t trust George. Most don’t trust you, either. But they all adore me. And while they are clueless and seeking explanations for this terrible night, the one thing they did pay witness to was me outsmarting the necromancer and giving us all the upper hand to defend ourselves against the Ferals. In essence, I am the hero tonight, even if I don’t deserve such a title. But only you know that. Tristan peers back at her. Only you are smart enough to see the truth.
Ashara turns her icy stare back onto him.
Tristan searches those cold eyes of hers for the single glint of curiosity still remaining in them. Yes, he finally confesses, I was the one who summoned the necromancer for the purposes of bringing Brock back to life. I broke Markadian’s sacred law to never fraternize with the practitioners of preternatural arts. I involved Raya, who is innocent. I used George to collect ingredients for the ritual.
Each statement of his becomes a tiny flame of vindication in Ashara’s eyes, nearly salivating at hearing the confession.
But what I did not count on was George interfering by opening a spell box and infecting himself with the necromancer’s dark powers. He is the true reason Mance was able to break into the unbreakable House of Vegasyn … along with an army of Ferals. George is, in fact, the cause of this terrible night. George … has fled with the Ferals.
Ashara’s face twists. “He has gone completely?”
And Mance is nowhere to be found. His current status is unknown. George might be involved with that, too … helping him to safety.
Her eyes narrow. “You’d better hope Mance is dead, because after tonight, you have certainly made a mortal enemy of him.”
Tristan doesn’t wish to sit with that disturbing thought any longer than necessary. I should also mention the night the directors arrived and I was sent to prepare martinis of our Blood’s blood, George stopped me on my way back and … took one right off my tray.