Total pages in book: 244
Estimated words: 230170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1151(@200wpm)___ 921(@250wpm)___ 767(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 230170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1151(@200wpm)___ 921(@250wpm)___ 767(@300wpm)
“They are not Ascended,” Kieran said, his nostrils flaring as he scented the air.
There was something…off about the men standing in the beams of light. Something that had nothing to do with my inability to read their emotions. Shivers broke out across my flesh as I stared at them. It was their skin. It appeared paper-thin and too pale as if not a drop of blood remained in their veins. My stomach squeezed tightly. “Are they…? They aren’t Atlantians, are they? Or any other bloodline?”
“No,” Kieran growled. “I have no idea what these things are.”
Things?
I swallowed hard as instinct demanded that I put as much distance between myself and these things as I could. The Craven always provoked the same reaction, but I didn’t run from them, and I wouldn’t run now.
Kieran’s chin dipped. “I have no idea what in the hell any of you are, but whatever you are planning, I strongly advise against it.”
Movement along the wall caught my attention. Another masked man was crouched there, his skin carrying a pink undertone. He wasn’t the shade of death. I reached out with my senses, tasting…something dry and oaky, like whiskey—almost nutty. Determination. The one on the wall was different. He was alive, for starters. My eyes narrowed on an ivory and gray-brown chain draped over his chest. Anger rushed through me like a swarm of hornets. If there had been any doubt about what they wanted, it was erased now. Those bindings would not touch my skin again.
“You have no idea what you guard, wolven,” the masked male spoke, his deep voice muffled from behind the mask. “What you seek to protect.”
“I know exactly who I protect,” Kieran stated.
“You don’t, but you will,” the man replied. “We just want the Maiden.”
“I am not the Maiden.” I welcomed the burn of my rage. It smothered the ache of grief over the fact that others were of like mind with Alastir. I pushed it aside before the sadness could settle inside me.
“Would you rather be called the Blessed One? The Chosen?” he countered. “Or would you prefer to be addressed as the Harbinger? The Bringer of Death and Destruction?”
I stiffened. I had heard those titles before, but I’d forgotten. Jansen had called Nyktos something similar. The hum in my chest vibrated. “If you truly believe that is what I am, then you’re a fool to stand there and threaten me.”
“I am no fool.” The man reached up, unhooking the chain from his shoulder. “You, the one foretold in the bones, should’ve never survived that night in Lockswood.”
Tiny bumps raced across my skin as my entire body seized in shock. It had nothing to do with the so-called prophecy. Lockswood. I hadn’t heard anyone speak the name of the small village in years. Not even Alastir had said it.
But it was clear that Alastir had shared what he had taken part in all those years ago with this man. “Who are you?”
“I am no one. I am everyone.” He rose slowly. “And you will be the Queen of nothing. Kill her.”
The things before us moved as one, rushing forward. The growl that came from Kieran’s very mortal throat should’ve sent them running, but it didn’t. Several surrounded us. Using a curse that would’ve turned Vikter’s seasoned ears red, I dipped under the wide swing of an attacker. A stale floral scent hit the air as Kieran’s arm swept out, dragging the sharpened edge of his blade through the throat of two of the things.
“Good gods,” Kieran exclaimed as I popped up behind the things in Descenter masks and kicked out, slamming the heel of my foot into the back of a kneecap. The thing made no sound as his leg gave out. I twisted at the same instant, shoving my dagger into the chest of another. That stale scent increased as an oily, black substance sprayed out over my hand.
That was definitely not blood.
I gasped as I pulled the dagger free. The thing staggered and then broke apart—shattering into a fine dusting of dirt and black oil that gleamed purple in the light. The Royal Knights had done something similar upon being stabbed with bloodstone, but the knights’ skin and bodies had cracked first. These things just exploded in a geyser of purple yuck that smelled like stale lilacs.
As the other creature started to regain his footing, I spun, wrapping my arm around his masked head. I jerked back and thrust the dagger into the weak spot at the base of his skull. I let go, jumping back before the thing erupted.
“What are these things?” I yelled, backing away from the oily stain the two had left behind.
“I have no idea.” Kieran took out another as his lip curled in disgust. “Just kill them.”
“Oh, well, I was thinking about keeping one.” Cold, clammy fingers grazed my arm as I whirled around. “You know, as a—”