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)
“So you… couldn’t use them,” he mumbles before putting his arms around me in the most comforting of hugs. It would be so easy to believe that he truly has feelings for me, but I don’t want to set myself up for disappointment in the future any more than I already have.
I will only be able to take it if I don’t let myself hope for things someone like me isn’t meant to have. But I’m afraid of how tempting it is to fall for everything he’s promising. His sturdy presence is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. Not just because he’s the hottest stud I’ve ever been with, it goes well beyond any of that. His support for me never falters, and his interest in me seems etched in his skin like that golden sun on his chest—impossible to be removed.
I don’t want to dwell on any of that, too afraid it will lead me down a path of no return, so I focus on our surroundings instead. On the hearts drawn in chalk on each door, and the—
“Are those human skulls?” I ask, pointing out several skulls hanging under the eaves of the thatched roof of a house we pass.
Kyran pulls my hair back behind my ear. As if he needs an excuse to touch me. “Oh no, they’re elven.”
I spin my head back, and my frown must have communicated my utter shock, because he grins and indicates similar displays on nearby homes. “It’s their ancestors. The older the skull is, the more prestige a family has. There’s been feuds about skulls being stolen by rivals and secretly disposed of.”
It’s so morbid, but I can’t help a laugh. “Oh, my God! What? If they’re so precious, why not hide them in a chest or something?”
“They need to be proudly exposed to moonlight. The skulls of all my prominent forebearers are displayed in the Ancestral Sanctuary, the second highest place in the castle. The roof there is glass, like in the orangery, so they are always looking at the stars. We even have the skull of Lord Larkin Nightweed and his Dark Companion. I will show you on our wedding day, when you become a part of my family, and we make our sacrifice,” Kyran says as Crab stands still, keeping us away from the crowd ahead for that bit longer.
I stiffen and laugh nervously. “I hope it’s not human sacrifice?”
Kyran smiles and brings my hand to his lips. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. We will cut open the cocoon of a matra spider and feed her some of our hair, then release her into the Sanctuary. That way, her children will weave cobwebs with a piece of us all over the castle.”
I stare at him. “That’s messed up.”
“It’s tradition.” He shrugs as we ride through a narrow passage between two houses. A flash of movement draws my attention there, but I look away as I spot two elves so engaged in… relations they don’t even notice us. A lush skirt is hitched up to uncover pale thighs, but I don’t let my eyes linger and stare ahead, where the shadowed street opens into a richness of pink light.
Would it be improper for a prince to fuck his promised in a dark alley? Probably, but a boy can dream.
The glow originates from a massive bonfire, and while I have no idea how they tinted the flames such an unnatural shade, the figures dancing around it feel familiar despite their clothes. Like a dark and gothic renfaire night on Valentine’s Day. The mix makes me smile and look around in awe even though we’re being gawked at as soon as Crab emerges from the alleyway.
Sitting so high up gives me a chance to take everything in. The town square a the bonfire in the middle, but tall trees at the edges. Around each thick trunk, elves sit on wooden benches, busy eating, chatting, and laughing. Stands with foods, drinks, and trinkets are to one side of the square, and sellers loudly advertise their products, but I’m still too far away to hear any details. Everyone is bathed in the pink glow that reflects off their clothes and faces despite fashion dictating that most attendees wear black.
I want to feast my eyes and ask so many questions, but a woman approaches us with two elves in simple black tunics. Her gown is long, with lots of draping, and a massive headdress featuring antlers and a veil that seems to be made out of spiderwebs. Tiny jewels are woven into it, reflecting the light like dew drops.
She looks like a witch. Or a goth elder, who’s been in the community since its inception but who has, miraculously, not aged beyond thirty. I freeze when she bows, followed by her two companions.
“Our prince and his promised! It’s a shame you didn’t notify us about your arrival, we could have prepared better.” Her voice has a rasp to it as if she’s smoked one cigarette too many.