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)
Start a garden in the campgrounds, Micah’s dream? Perhaps create her own army of enchanted tree children to protect their campground from intruders? Yes, please. “If you are lying, and you’ve given me poison... I don’t care who you are, I’ll do as promised and sing your cells into my own personal army to destroy you from the inside out.”
Cookie rolled her eyes again.
After breaking off what she hoped was “the barest sliver,” she crumbled the piece into Micah’s open mouth, then massaged his throat, forcing him to swallow. Seconds passed. She waited with bated breath, hopeful, afraid, dying inside second by second until...
He sucked in air, filling his lungs, his entire body jolting. Bone, muscle and flesh wove together at a fast clip, color returning to his pale skin. His chest rose and fell, choppy at first, but quickly smoothing out.
Relief poured through her, potent beyond imagining. He would live.
“Told you,” Cookie said, smug. “Maybe next time don’t threaten the gal aiding you. She might decide to drive a vine through your spinal cord. Or choke you out and pop off your head. That’s a particular favorite of mine. Or we could go with my husband’s favorite and cut out your tongue. Nah. I think I’ll go with mine.”
As she spoke, a vine sprouted from the ground, slithering up, up Viori’s legs, pinning her in place. That vine continued to grow, soon enwrapping her throat and applying pressure. Not enough to incite damage, but plenty to prove a point.
Cookie smiled with sinister delight. “Sometimes we like to do both.”
Viori smiled, too—then hummed a little tune. The vine slowly uncoiled from her neck, blinking open a pair of pretty green eyes and nuzzling her along the way. Another temporary animation. “Show Queen Cookie who you obey,” she whispered to her newest creation.
The living vine retracted from her, focusing on the now frowning queen with narrowing lids.
“Are you looking at me?” Cookie demanded of the vine. To the female’s obvious shock and horror, the stalk slithered over and wound around her body. Nothing she did stopped it.
Before the vine could tighten, healthy green became ashy black and drifted away on a soft breeze.
Viori balled her hands into fists, and Cookie backed up, reentering the doorway. Neither of them relinquished the other’s gaze. Challenge arced between them.
One scowled, then the other.
“The truce stands,” Cookie grated.
Good. They understood each other. Viori wasn’t powerless. She nodded confirmation, even as she petted Micah’s hair. “The truce stands.”
For some reason, the queen hesitated to leave.
Why not take advantage and ask the questions she’d longed to ask? “How did you and Kaysar meet?”
Cookie smiled again, as if dreaming her favorite dream. “I received the heart of a fae princess. The wife of King Jareth Frostline. Kaysar planned to impregnate me and put his child on Jareth’s throne. They had a centuries-long beef. Anyway, I won Kaysar’s eternal love with a grand gesture.”
A grand gesture. Hmm. Something Viori needed to do for Micah? “What did you do?”
“I killed his greatest enemy.” The queen wrinkled her nose. “How do you not know any of this stuff? We’ve been the subject of realm-wide gossip for nearly a year.” Gasping, she glanced over her shoulder. “Never mind. I gotta go.” She vanished as the door closed around her.
What had happened? Oh, no matter. Viori had other things to deal with. She returned her attention to Micah, who’d begun to blink open his eyes. “Husband?” she whispered, hopeful, caressing his cheek.
He jerked upright, panting, his focus darting. When his gaze landed on her, she waited, expecting to be snatched by his arms, yanked against the hard line of his body, and hugged oh, so close. Why not spend the rest of the day celebrating his recovery and their fresh start? But he never snatched her, and disappointment set in.
He scrubbed a hand over his face instead, then asked, “You are well?” His voice emerged rougher.
“I am, I promise.”
“What of Graves? And the swamp...thing?”
The fact that Micah hadn’t used the term belua spoke volumes. “His name is John, and both are fine. How do you feel?” Better to admit what she’d done now. “You weren’t healing, so I fed you a piece of elderseed that I acquired from Cookie when I authorized the truce. Is that acceptable?”
As silence stretched, she searched his grim-set features for an indication of rising anger or deep-seated regret.
Finally, he gave a stiff nod, his expression solemn. He flittered to his feet. “Stay here. I’ll return after I check the perimeter for threats.”
Wait. What? Viori popped to her feet, spinning, heart pounding. “You’re leaving? Seeking another battle?” When he’d only healed a handful of minutes ago? “We’re safe here.”
“We aren’t safe anywhere,” he barked, making her flinch. No need to search for his anger anymore; she’d found it in the valley of his devastation. “I have been betrayed once again. Only Norok knew the location of the trolls, and only Elena and Sabot knew ours. They could be working with Fayette, using her against me.”