Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189930 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 950(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
“The gods will not find fault in today’s proceedings,” the Duke interrupted.
Of course, not.
Willing my hands steady, I lifted them and undid the fine clasps of the veil near my ears. The headdress immediately loosened. Keeping my gaze lowered as I knew he preferred, I slipped it off, over where my hair had been bound in a simple knot at the nape of my neck. My exposed cheeks and brows prickled. Teerman came forward, taking the veil from me and placing it aside. I clasped my hands and waited. I hated doing so.
But I waited.
“Lift your eyes,” he demanded softly, and I did just that. His ebony gaze slowly tracked over my features, inch by inch, missing nothing, not even the wisps of burnt copper hair that I could feel curling against my temple. His perusal lasted an eternity. “You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” I murmured, revulsion bubbling in my stomach. I knew what was coming next.
The tips of his fingers pressed into the skin under my chin, tilting my head to the left and then to the right.
He clucked his tongue. “Such a shame.”
And there it was.
I said nothing as my focus shifted to the large oil painting of the Temples, where veiled women knelt before a being who was so bright, he rivaled the moon.
“What do you think, Bran?” he asked of the Lord.
“As you said, such a shame.”
I didn’t give a Craven’s ass what Lord Mazeen thought.
“The other scars are easy to hide, but this?” The Duke sighed almost sympathetically. “There will come a time when there will be no veil to hide this unfortunate flaw.”
I swallowed, resisting the urge to pull away when his fingers left my chin to trail down the two ragged indentations that started at my left temple and continued downward, skirting my eye to end just beside my nose.
“Do you know what that new guard of hers said?”
The Lord didn’t speak, but I imagined he shook his head no.
“He said she was beautiful,” the Duke answered. “Half of her is truly stunning.” There was a pause. “You look so much like your mother.”
My gaze flew to his in shock. He knew my mother? He’d never—not once—mentioned that before. “You knew her?”
His eyes met mine, and it was hard to stare into the never-ending darkness. “I did. She was…special.”
Before I could even question that, he said, “You do realize that the guard wouldn’t have said otherwise? Wouldn’t have spoken the truth.”
I flinched as my chest hollowed.
Having spotted the reaction, the Duke’s smile returned. “I suppose it’s some small blessing. The damage to your face could’ve been far worse.”
The damage could’ve included a missing eye, or worse, death.
But I didn’t say that.
My gaze shifted back to the painting, wondering how his words could still sting after all these years. When I was younger, they’d hurt. His words had cut deep. But the last couple of years, there’d been nothing but numb resignation. The scars were not something I could change. I knew that. But today, they sliced through me as they had when I was thirteen.
“You do have such pretty eyes.” He removed his fingers from the scars and pressed one to my lower lip. “And a well-formed mouth.” He paused, and I swore I could feel his gaze lower and linger. “Most will find your body pleasing.”
Bile clogged my throat and crawled across my skin like thousands of spiders. Only by sheer will, was I able to hold myself completely still.
“For some men, those things will be enough.” Teerman dragged his finger across my bottom lip before lowering his hand. “Priestess Analia came to see me this morning.”
Wait. What?
My heart started to slow as confusion surfaced. The Priestess? What could she possibly have to say about me?
“Do you not have anything to add?” Teerman asked, raising one pale brow.
“No. I’m sorry.” I shook my head. “I don’t know what Priestess Analia would have to say. I last saw her a week ago, in the second-floor parlor, and all seemed fine.”
“I’m sure it did since you only spent half an hour there before leaving unexpectedly,” he said. “I was advised you didn’t once pick up your embroidery set, nor did you engage in any conversation with the Priestesses.”
Irritation flared, but I knew better than to cave to it. Besides, if this was what he was upset over, it was far better than what I’d feared. “My mind was occupied with my upcoming Rite,” I lied. The real reason I didn’t engage in their conversation was because the women spent the entire time speaking poorly of the Ladies in Wait and how they were not deserving of the gods’ Blessing. “I must’ve been daydreaming.”
“I’m sure you’re very excited about the Rite, and if this had been just one situation, I would’ve easily overlooked your poor conduct.”