Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
But my grip didn’t relent, not even as the pieces of sky visible through the heavy limbs lightened, shifting through all shades of blue. I held on.
The horse slowed even more, eventually coming to a near stop. Wearily, I turned my head toward the Lord. He was staring up at the thick clusters of trees taller than any building I’d ever seen. I followed his gaze to where the faint light of dawn struggled to penetrate the heavily leafed branches. The steed blew out ragged breaths as Lord Arion shifted in the saddle—
Something hissed through the air. Reins snapped free from the Lord’s grip as he pitched forward without warning. He crashed into me, and my numb fingers slipped from the pommel. His sudden weight took both of us off the saddle.
I hit the ground with a jarring thud I could feel in my bones. I lay there, stunned for a heartbeat, staring at the patches of . . . of deep violet grass. I’d never seen such grass before.
But that really wasn’t important at the moment.
Lord Arion . . . he was sprawled half on top of me, unmoving. Gathering every bit of strength I had, I rolled him off. He flopped onto his side, one arm still lying across my stomach. I looked at his face—
“Holy shit,” I whispered at the sight of the arrow embedded deep between Lord Arion’s eyes.
Tossing his arm off my stomach, I scuttled back across the ground as I stared at the rapidly expanding pool of red beneath his head. He looked dead, but I didn’t know how powerful this lord was. I didn’t know if he was only unconscious or whether that arrowhead through his brain was enough to kill him. That milky-white arrowhead—
A call came from the trees. Lord Arion’s steed took off, its hooves pounding into the ground inches from me. I pushed onto my knees, twisting toward the sound of the sharp whistle. Through my tangled strands of hair, I saw a dark shape fall from the trees— no, the dark shapes had flown from above.
Ravens.
Dozens of them.
Their black wings cut silently through the air as they flew in rapid circles, coming closer and closer to each other with every pass until they . . . they came together feet above the ground, merging into . . . into one.
Into the figure of a man crouched several feet ahead, his dark cloak pooling over the violet grass like smoke.
A shiver tiptoed its way down my spine, then spread out over my skin. That feeling came over me, the one I first felt as a child.
A warning.
A reckoning.
The promise of what was to come.
But this time, something unlocked in my mind, and out of its darkness, a vision I’d never had before swamped me, and in a flash, I saw what Lord Samriel claimed.
I saw his arms, his hand wrapped around the hilt of the blade plunged deep into my chest—
A cry tore from my throat. Death. I’d seen mine. I’d seen it come at his hands.
“Move. Move, move,” I whispered, trying to get my frozen muscles to unlock. “Move.”
He rose to that impossible, intimidating height as I shoved to my feet. Spinning around, I took off as fast as I could, running back toward the creek. I ran, arms and legs pumping as rocks dug into the soles of my feet. Branches slapped at my hair and cheeks, snagging my robe and nightgown. Every step hurt, but I didn’t stop. There was no time to think about where I was going or the fruitlessness of—
A body collided with mine, knocking my legs out from underneath me. For a moment, I was weightless and falling; then arms snapped around mine. The body twisted, and I was suddenly no longer staring at the hard ground racing up toward me, but at the trees.
We landed hard, the body beneath mine taking the brunt of the fall, but the impact still knocked the wind out of me, and for a moment, neither of us moved. Then he rolled me onto my stomach. Weight pressed onto my back, trapping the entire length of body. My fingers curled into the damp grass.
“Na’laa,” he whispered. “You should’ve known better than to run. I will always catch you.”
I dragged in a shallow breath. A . . . a woodsy, soft smell surrounded me. The scent of . . . sandalwood.
Of him.
My Hyhborn prince. My salvation.
And my doom.