Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
General Lovia. The idea still feels foreign, no matter how good it sounds. I’ve always been a fighter. I’ve always known how to swing a sword, hold my ground, frighten the souls out of those who dared stand against us. But commanding others, guiding strategy, protecting not just myself but an entire force—that’s something else. My father trusts me with this. I feel a stirring of pride but also a tightness in my chest. What if I fail him? He’s already burdened by so many disappointments and losses. I don’t want to add my failure to his pain.
I wander the winding halls of the castle. It’s an odd place, carved from obsidian laced with black magic, a palace that tries so hard to be the antithesis to Shadow’s End but just feels sad and soulless. Louhi’s old banners, her weak claim to the land here, hang limply, ragged and nearly colorless. The corridors have a hush about them, as if even the stones are waiting for something. I remember being here as a child and having that same feeling.
Every so often, I pass a guard who snaps to attention at the sight of me.
That’s new.
They used to respect me, of course, as Death’s daughter, but now, they treat me like an officer, like someone who might give orders that determine their fate. It’s unsettling, even if it’s due to my father’s mental coercion. I’m used to wielding a sword, not wielding people. As much as I like mortals, I don’t want to be responsible for them in this way.
I turn a corner and nearly walk straight into Vellamo. The Sea Goddess glides down the hall with quiet grace, though her oceanic eyes are haunted. We’ve all suffered losses, but for her to lose Ahto—my uncle—I know how sharp that ache must be. She inclines her head when she sees me, her hair shifting around her shoulders like waves.
“General Lovia,” she says softly, though there’s a hint of teasing in the lift of her brow. “I keep hearing that title. Feels strange, doesn’t it?”
I manage a half-smile. “I suppose I’ll get used to it.” My voice sounds more confident than I feel.
She gestures to a small alcove near a window. We step aside, letting a patrol of soldiers pass. Outside, the snow shimmers under faint moonlight that pierces the moving clouds. “Actually, I wanted to congratulate you,” Vellamo says in that deep voice of hers. “It’s a heavy duty to have thrust upon you, but I believe you’ll shoulder it well.”
I look down at my boots, tapping my heel against the stone to steady myself. “Do you really think so? I’m good at fighting; I’ve proven that. But leading…I’m not sure. That’s not really my thing, if you know what I mean.”
Vellamo’s gaze is calm and sympathetic. “Leadership isn’t just about strategy. It’s about caring for those who follow you. You have the passion, the courage. I’ve seen it. You led Tapio and Tellervo when they needed you most. You led me here. You need to trust yourself.” She pauses, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “Your father trusts you. He wouldn’t have named you General otherwise.”
My heart clenches. “I know he does, but he’s lost so much already. If I fail—”
She places a cool hand on my arm. “Your father knows the risks of war. He’s not expecting perfection. He expects you to fight for what’s right and to do your best. None of us can promise more than that. You carry your own integrity into battle. That matters more than a flawless victory.”
I nod slowly, forcing myself to absorb her words. My father, stoic as he is, wouldn’t have chosen me if he thought I would crumble. He knows me better than anyone. He must believe in my strength.
Which means I have to believe in my strength.
“Thank you, Vellamo,” I say, voice quieter now. “I needed to hear that.”
She squeezes my arm gently. “We’re all uncertain, Lovia. We’ve never faced enemies like these. We’ve all been so damn blind, sticking our heads in the snow, toiling in our ignorance. All we can do is stand together and trust in each other’s resolve.”
I watch her walk away, a sad elegance in her step. She lost her beloved, and yet still, she’s trying to comfort me. The depth of her strength astounds me.
Feeling a bit more grounded, I decide to find Rasmus. He’s lurking around this castle somewhere, under guard but not entirely imprisoned. We need him—or at least, the Magician thinks we do. He’s still my half-brother, linked by blood. By poisonous blood, yes, and he has been on the enemy’s side, brainwashed to bits. He shot me with an arrow, yet my father allowed him to live because the Magician said Rasmus might be of some use to us.