Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 127722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 639(@200wpm)___ 511(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)
He didn’t even give me a glance.
“There’s been no sight of her, m’lord.” Commander Burke sat beside me, ready for battle even though it was a quiet night. “She’s either dead or has been taken from the Kingdoms.”
Father dropped into a chair. “I know exactly where she is.”
I studied his face, noticing the tint from the booze.
He set down the glass. “She’s been taken to the bottom of the cliffs, and when the time is right, our enemies will use her as leverage.”
I felt my anger tighten my jaw—because he sent men after me but not her.
“Then we’ll know exactly who we’re dealing with.” He pushed his empty glass aside, and even though he was right across from me, he never looked at me. Not once. It was the coldest shoulder I’d ever been given.
“The Blade Scions will be here tomorrow,” Commander Burke said.
My eyes shifted to him.
“We’ll select the next winner of the lottery tomorrow,” he continued. “That’s what they’re here to see.”
Good thing they weren’t here last time.
Father gave a nod in agreement then slouched in the chair. Arrogance was evident in his body language, his stare, the way he seemed indifferent to everything.
I used to interpret it as confidence. “I’m your son, and you can’t look me in the eye.”
He stilled. Burke stilled. The entire room held its breath.
My eyes pounded his face, waiting for acknowledgment, some sign of respect. “I’m home and your daughter is still missing, but you don’t seem to care about either of those things.”
His head slowly turned so his eyes could regard me.
I kept up my stare.
“Anger is like grief. Everyone manages it differently.”
“Well, you should manage it better.” The chair slid back over the floor as I stood up. I made my exit, turning my back on my father and walking out of the room with the same indifference he showed me.
21
EFFIE
I stayed cooped up in the house, day and night.
At first, it was a welcome reprieve. I slept in a soft bed every night, had a fire to keep me warm, had food in the kitchen that kept me full. There was money in the drawer if I had any other needs. It was a blessing after the arduous journey I’d gone through. But once my basic needs were met, my reality hit me like a pail of cold water.
I worried about my family.
If the duke hadn’t reported their deaths, then they must still be alive.
But where?
How would I ever find them?
My thoughts were shattered when the lock clicked.
“Shit.” I jumped out of the armchair and ducked out of sight before it opened.
“Effie?” It was Ryker. He shut the door and locked it behind him. “You here?”
I emerged from behind the wall. “Wasn’t sure if it would be you.”
He came closer to me, taking his time with his steps, his muscular arms stiff by his sides. Instead of donning his armor and weapons, he wore breeches and a dark tunic, looking like a regular citizen rather than royalty. The playfulness in his eyes had been snuffed out like a low-burning candle. Now they were dim and dark. “You doing alright?”
I bottled my complaints because he seemed to be having a worse day than I was. “It has everything I need. Haven’t felt this pampered in a long time.”
He gave a slight nod. “Good.” He took a look around, but it just felt like a reason not to look at me.
“You seem down.”
While still avoiding my gaze, he said, “I’m fine.”
“No, you aren’t.”
He stilled at my words, and after what seemed like a long internal debate, he turned back to me. His green eyes now looked tired—really tired.
“What happened?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “You don’t want to hear about it.”
“Then why would I ask?”
“It’s about my father.”
The man who ruined my life. The man who lowered my family down to a frozen hell.
“Like I said…you don’t want to hear about it.” He stepped around me and headed for the couch. He took a seat on the edge, his forearms on his knees. There were shelves against the wall around the fireplace, holding dusty books that no one ever touched.
I knew because I was bored enough to look. I took a seat beside him. “I do.”
He rubbed his palms together before he gave me a side glance. “He was so relieved that I returned. But in the same breath, he slapped me across the face.” His eyes shifted straight ahead. “Haven’t talked since. I just told him off and walked out.”
“He’s mad you went after me?”
“He’s mad I could have gotten myself killed.”
“Well…then, it sounds like he just cares.”
“Has a funny way of showing it.” He dropped his gaze to his hands as he rubbed his palms again. The calluses were there on his fingertips, in the center of his palm where he gripped the hilt of his sword. I remembered those hands on my body, remembered their roughness against my soft skin.