Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Like the rest of this branch of the family, his hair is dark red, standing out against his pale face like streaks of blood. He’s dressed in a leather vest, and the red cape bearing his family crest is thrown over one shoulder.
He is also wearing a black cap with a wide visor on one side under an embroidered green BBB, the same one Luke had on when I came for him earlier.
“That’s not yours,” I say.
Tristan makes a face. The man is older than me by almost twenty years, but fools around like a kid. “I found it in the carriage. It’s the human’s, isn’t it? Why didn’t you take me with you? Drustan told me you had trouble on the way.”
Drustan should have kept his mouth shut.
But I don’t say that and offer him a polite smile. “I figured he would be even more nervous if there was two of us, and a couple of thorny vines can hardly be called trouble. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I say and hand him the torn clothes I need to dispose of. If he’s so eager to barge in here, he might as well make himself useful.
Tristan’s golden eyes go wide. He might be the size of a bull, but when excited, he exudes the energy of a child. “Ooh! Are these human-made too? Can I take them? My sister will be so jealous.”
“They’re torn. We should have them burned,” I say as his gaze lights up, making me consider what to do next. Tristan might be a fool, but he has his uses, like his physical strength or the unique skill of transforming his shadow into wings.
And he’s loyal, I will give him that. My brother would sometimes treat him without any respect whatsoever, and whether it was because Tristan lacks the insight to understand he's being offended or just has an easy-going personality, he never once tried to seize any power, even when my brother wasted his time on pleasures and left the running of the principality to me.
Tristan hums over the dirty heap of fabric. “I’ll ask Sabine if she wants them for something. She’s having a baby in a month, so maybe she could use the bits that aren’t torn… Either way, can I see him?” He steps forward as if I’ve already agreed.
Which I most certainly won’t.
“No. He’s resting now. Where were you when we arrived at the gates?” I ask, tightening my hold on the hilt of my sword. I’ve been watching Tristan from the shadowild since my childhood, and I do trust he doesn’t want to harm me or my promised, but I itch to keep the pretty human to myself for a bit longer.
He sighs and clutches the clothes to his chest as his thick red brows form a groove above his large, shapely nose. Only now I notice he has a new piercing. A ring sits in his septum, and I should have taken note, because it’s the same spot where Luke’s nose is adorned with silver.
“Ah, it’s a long story. I was at the Three Dead Mermaids and I met this woman who told me her cow had just given birth to a two-headed calf. You know me, Your Highness, I need to go investigate the unusual. It could be an accident of nature, but it could be a curse. Or some new kind of monstrosity altogether. What if a despair crawled out of the sea unnoticed by guards, and managed to infect this woman’s cow? There has been more of them for a while after all.
“So I followed her home, and the calf really does have two heads. I checked the shadows of both animals, and they seem to be perfectly natural. I heard your carriage was approaching and was about to rush back, but then…” He sighs, shaking his head. “The bosom on that woman, Kyranis… And her dress was far too low-cut to be reasonable for working with animals. Let’s say I got slightly distracted, she was more than obliging, and we ended up having a tumble in the barn. In a separate stall than the cows, just to be clear. I’m not a monster. I’m not about to take a newborn calf’s innocence.”
To my disbelief, he’s still going.
“Oh, and then she pierced my nose. I like it.”
“Are you now part of her cow herd?” I ask without thinking as my brain shrivels from this onslaught of dumb.
Tristan doesn’t seem offended and laughs. “As long as she milks me often.”
I smile, because Tristan and my twin shared an enthusiasm for milkmaids and other… maids, which is why I can’t fully turn my attention to men, or it would be suspicious. But that is a price I’m willing to pay for power and freedom.
And for the boy who I wish to milk me. Maybe deep down I am no better than Tristan.