Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
His ribs clenched around vital organs. Whether she—they—realized it or not, he did have value. He never took what life threw at him; he fought for better. He defended those in his care and worked tirelessly to grow a paradise like the one he’d lost. Trees heavy with fruit. Lush foliage. Fragrant flowers. A dream he refused to relinquish, no matter how many hindrances he faced.
And yet, no one had chosen Micah during round two, either. He’d left disappointed and yes, humiliated. The females had made it clear—they held no desire for the chimera. Their males had made it much clearer—he wasn’t a welcome addition to the town.
But leave? No. More and more belua entered the area each year, and few fae possessed the skill to emerge victorious.
Giggling abounded as eligible women congregated under a tattered cloth canopy, adjacent to the males. Farther back, tables provided an array of food, flavored with herbs and spices Micah had donated. Tantalizing scents wafted, urging him closer. His mouth watered. He was so tired of eating cibus stew, the quickest and easiest meal for a busy fae without a family. But he wouldn’t be sampling any of the dishes. He’d made the mistake of attending a festival only once.
A light patter of footsteps sounded behind him. He tensed, but didn’t turn. A soft fragrance accompanied the noise, the approacher’s identity registering. Elena Adelina. The top contender every male hoped to claim today.
She paused at Micah’s side, drawing his gaze. For a beat, he took in her fall of pale hair, white skin and fragile-as-a-doll features. An ivory gown clung to slender curves.
She was the gentle, meek fae he’d once imagined wedding. Someone he could have made happy, if only she’d given him a chance.
“Are you not joining the hopefuls this year?” she asked with a soft, hesitant tone, looking anywhere but at him.
“No.” He pursed his lips, admitting nothing else. Why was she talking to him? Why had she approached him at all? She never had before. She must want something. An enemy slain? A bigger tent built? Riches?
“How I envy you.” She heaved a mournful sigh. “No one is forcing you to wed before you’re ready.”
“Because I do not let others force me to do anything.” The longtime viceroy—the settlement’s leader—had issued a mandate earlier this week. Women of a certain age must agree to wed this year or find a new home. “Say what you have to say,” he demanded, his tone flat.
She chewed on her bottom lip. Wringing her hands, she rasped, “My brother—Norok. He says he’ll accept a wife to prove the new law is just. He’s going to ruin his life because mine is being ruined.” She stomped her foot and hissed. “That wench Lavina will do anything to snag him.”
Lavina Atwater, the viceroy’s daughter. Pretty on the outside, a terror on the inside. Nearly as bad as belua. The whole species had only grown more aggressive over the years. “Yes, and her father will do anything to snag you.” No longer did the viceroy hide his leer when she neared. “What do you want from me?”
“Help,” she blurted out, still unwilling to meet his gaze. “I seek help. An equal exchange. We both know the viceroy avoids you. He’s unwilling to listen to your ideas about crop production, expansion and defensive measures. If you end the marriage line before it starts, I’ll speak to him on your behalf.”
“Where’s Elena?” the viceroy called before Micah could fully absorb her offer. “We won’t commence without her.”
The crowd shouted suppositions, some even glancing her way while doing so—without spotting her. Elena possessed a unique glamara. An ability to blend into her surroundings. Something only Micah seemed to have noticed.
“Please, Micah,” she croaked.
A muscle jumped beneath his eye. No need to consider his answer. She expected him to drive everyone away, earning more hatred and distrust, all because she was a coward. “Norok’s choices are his own. So are yours. If you have no wish to wed, don’t.”
Could she survive on her own? The Dusklands were not kind to anyone, much less delicate beauties like this...not without belua protectors.
His chest tightened again. Stop thinking of little Red.
“I’ll be exiled,” Elena said, blanching.
“And I wouldn’t?”
Her shoulders rolled in, and she hung her head. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She kicked a pebble with the toe of a too-soft slipper. “Where could I go? And do not say one of the courts.”
“Why?” Resources were plentiful in each of the four. “I’m willing to escort you wherever you decide.” An offer he immediately regretted.
To what end would he do this? Yes, the Summerlands provided lush fields forever in bloom, with honeycombs appearing to drip from every tree. The Winterlands offered bountiful game with tender, succulent meat. The Autumnlands boasted great bodies of fresh water. And the Springlands cultivated herbs and the sweetest fruits. But...