Total pages in book: 215
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 206625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1033(@200wpm)___ 827(@250wpm)___ 689(@300wpm)
Subject change noted.
I take in the rows of tables, slowly filling with scribes readying themselves for work, and imagine my father among them. “It’s like coming home, but not. And it’s not that it’s changed—this place never changes. Hell, I think change is the mortal enemy of a scribe. But I’m starting to realize that I’ve changed. I don’t quite fit here. Not anymore.”
“Yeah. I get that.” Something in his voice tells me he really does.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask what the last five years were like for him, but Jesinia reappears, the cart laden with the requested tomes.
“I have everything here for you,” she signs, then gestures to the scroll on top. “And that is for Professor Markham.”
“We’ll make sure he gets it,” I promise, leaning forward to take the cart. My high collar shifts, and Jesinia gasps, her hand flying to cover her mouth.
“Oh gods, Violet. Your neck!” Her hand movements are sharp, and the sympathy in her eyes makes my chest tighten. “Sympathy” isn’t a word found in our quadrant. There’s rage, wrath, and indignation…but no sympathy.
“It’s nothing.” I put my collar back in place, covering the ring of yellowing bruises, and Liam reaches across me, taking the cart. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”
She bobs her head and wrings her hands as we turn for the door. Pierson closes it after we pass into the hallway.
“Riorson taught me to fight during the years he was at Tirvainne.” Liam’s change of subject is appreciated and no doubt intentional once again. “I’ve never seen anyone move the way he does. He’s the only reason I made it through the first round of challenges. He might not show it, but he takes care of his own.”
“Are you trying to sell me on his finer points?” We make the ascent, and I note with some satisfaction that my legs feel strong today. I love the days when my body cooperates.
“You are slightly stuck with him for…” He makes a face. “Well, forever.”
“Or until one of us dies,” I joke, but it falls flat as we round the corner and take the path past the Healer Quadrant. “How can you do this anyway? Guard someone whose own mother oversaw the wing that captured yours?” I’ve wanted to ask the question all week.
“Wondering if you can trust me?” He flashes another easy grin.
“Yes.” The answer is simple.
He laughs, the sound echoing off the tunnel walls and glass windows of the clinic. “Good answer. All I can say is that your survival is essential to Riorson’s, and I owe him everything. Everything.” He looks me straight in the eye for that last word, even as the cart hits a raised stone in the paved corridor.
The scroll on top tumbles to the floor, and I wince at the dull ache in my ribs as I hurry to retrieve it and it unrolls along the slight slope of the passage.
“Got it.” The thick parchment isn’t eager to roll back into place, and I catch a sentence that makes me pause.
The conditions at Sumerton are of particular concern. A village was ransacked and a supply convoy looted last night—
“What does it say?” Liam asks.
“Sumerton was attacked.” I flip the scroll to see if it’s marked as classified, but it isn’t.
“On the southern border?” He looks as confused as I feel.
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s another high-altitude attack, too, if I remember my geography correctly. It says a supply convoy was looted.” I read a little further. “And the community storage in nearby caves was ransacked. But that doesn’t make sense. We have a trade agreement with Poromiel.”
“A raiding party, then.”
I shrug. “No clue. Guess we’ll hear about it in Battle Brief today.” Attacks along our southern borders are rising, all with the same description. Mountain villages are being torn apart wherever the wards weaken.
Immense, incredible hunger strikes, my stomach gnawing on emptiness that demands to be appeased with the blood of—
“Sorrengail?” Liam looks over at me, concern etched between his brows.
“Tairn’s awake,” I manage to say, clutching my stomach like I’m the one who craves a flock of sheep. Or goats. Or whatever he decides for the morning. “Good gods, please go eat something.”
“The same could be suggested to you,” he snarls.
“Such a morning person, aren’t you?” The hunger dissipates, and I know it’s because he’s dampening the bond in that moment because I can’t. His emotions only flow into me when they override his control. “Thank you. Andarna?”
“Still sleeping. She’ll be out another few days after using that much power.”
“Does it ever get any easier?” I ask Liam. “Being tackled by what they’re feeling?”
He winces. “Good question. Deigh keeps pretty good control of himself, but when he’s angry?” Liam shakes his head. “It’s supposed to help once they start channeling and we have the power to shield them out, but you know Carr isn’t going to bother with us until that happens.”