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)
Sabine nods with understanding. “I’m in charge of the library. Please come and see me if you have any questions about our Realm. It’s been a while since we’ve had a human at court.”
And yet not everyone is happy to have me here, as I found out yesterday. I’ve learned my lesson, and until Kyran gives me the green light, I’m not going anywhere on my own.
I’m still talking to Sabine when commotion erupts behind my back.
“Oh no, there he is. The shortest elf in the Realm,” Tristan mutters, and when I turn around to find out what this is about, Tristan stands in the way of a much shorter, baby-faced elf. His white hair barely reaches his nape and has a faint golden sheen. He’s wearing a dark blue coat designed to lengthen his silhouette, likely for the same purpose as the inch-high heels of his boots. But he still appears tiny when standing next to someone as tall as Tristan.
“Kyranis, please, talk to me,” the stranger whispers loudly enough for me to hear him despite the music.
My Prince of Darkness meets his gaze. “I appreciate your sentiment, Sylvan, but you must know I can’t let this go.”
Sylvan shakes his head, so exasperated his cheeks flush. “She’s just a child—”
“She’s twenty. She made her choices, as we all do.” Kyranis squeezes my hand, and the tension between the two elves makes my heart beat faster.
“Then banish her. To the human world even. Wouldn’t that be a fate worse than—”
“Enough,” Kyran says in a voice so dull it feels like a punch to the heart, and even I feel uneasy, despite not being the object of his anger.
Sylvan’s blue gaze darkens. He lowers his head, purses his lips, and stills.
“The best you can do is keep the others from repeating her mistakes,” Kyranis says before facing me with a smile. “I may need something for good luck.”
“Good luck for… what?” I frown, but I get my answer before he can speak.
A large door on the other side of the room opens and Vinia is led in. Flanked by two guards she seems shorter than I remember, and while she’s wearing the same fine dress as yesterday, her makeup and hair are a mess.
I remember the sweet smile she offered me as she locked me in the hidden passage, like a spider sending me right into the middle of a sticky web. And when I realize her lips bear a striking resemblance to Sylvan’s, as does the color of her hair, it strikes me that he must be a Goldweed too.
Vinia looks at several elves in midnight blue. Elodie’s mouth quivers, and she sends her sister a kiss in the air, while an elf I haven’t met yet, with long straight hair like milk with honey and a cold expression in his blue eyes steps forward.
“You’ve shamed us, Vinia,” he says.
Her face falls. “H-how can you say that? Sylvan?” she cries, turning her gaze to the short man, who just approached us, but he shows her his empty hands in a gesture that has tears falling down her cheeks.
“Luke? Luke, please tell them! I beg you!”
As her blue gaze settles on me, along with every single pair of eyes in the huge room, my feet freeze to the floor.
My heart hardens when I recall the way she used my fears against me and lied to further her own schemes. It reminds me of that terrible night when I ran away from boarding school and begged a bus driver for help, only for him to nod and agree… then take me right back to that hellhole.
I straighten, more confident with Kyran at my side. “You told me to go into the caves at high tide. You knew they would flood and that I stood no chance.”
My voice is like a crystal glass shattering on marble floor.
Vinia shakes her head. “He’s lying! He’s trying to cover his tracks!”
The crowd of courtiers gasps and whispers, and the space around the Goldweeds empties, as if even touching them might leave stains of blame on one’s fine clothes.
Close to us, Sylvan rubs his eyes, motionless, but doesn’t protest anymore despite his sister still shouting in her defense.
“You all heard my treacherous cousin. She doesn’t have a drop of regret in her heart.” Raising his voice, Kyran leads me up the steps at the very end of the room, where two identical thrones of black obsidian wait for us, as if I was the consort of a king and deserved a place at his side. Ferocious wolves and sea snakes are carved into the two armchairs, and the thinnest silver thread hangs between them like a reminder of the unbreakable bond between the master of the Nocturne Court and their Dark Companion.
“Traitor!” Some overeager courtier yells from the crowd.