Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“No.”
“I watched you bring that horse back from the dead.”
“I knew you were watching me…”
Wasn’t exactly like I hid it.
“I’m a mender. Menders only help with animals.”
“Same thing.”
“Trust me, they aren’t the same thing. You could be on your last breath, and I wouldn’t be able to help you.”
My eyes scanned the landscape ahead of us, always watching for unexpected company. The trees made it difficult to see our surroundings, and the tracks in the snow made it easy to be followed.
“So, if you need me to heal someone, I can’t.”
“Not a person.”
“An animal?” she asked. “You have an animal for me to heal?”
“Yes.”
“Is this a pet or something?”
“I’ll show you when we get there.”
“Okay… What’s with the secrecy?”
I held my silence.
She released an irritated sigh. “If it’s a yeti, count me out.”
I cracked a slight smile.
“So, you do have a sense of humor.”
My smile dropped, my features went hard, and then I turned to regard her.
“Alright…maybe not.”
An hour later, we approached the perimeter of the outpost. The guards along the wall saw my approach and immediately pulled the gates open so we could pass through. The walls were twenty feet tall—so a yeti couldn’t climb over the top.
Side by side, we entered, the gates swinging closed behind us.
I could feel the difference in the outpost the second I returned. The scowls on their faces. The rage in their eyes. Ian was there, and he stared at Ivory like he wanted to murder her.
Ivory inched closer to me because she could feel it too.
My mother approached, flanked by two of her private guards, Geralt and Mace. Her fur cloak trailed behind her, her sword at her hip, and the feathers woven into her hair symbolized her power. Every year, a new feather was added, commemorating her reign. With nostrils flared, she stopped in front of me, her eyes reserved for Ivory. “Excellent work, Huntley. Take her away.”
Mace grabbed her by the arm.
On instinct, she twisted out of his grasp. “I can walk, alright?”
My mother didn’t drop her stare. It intensified, making her nostrils flare, making her eyes redden with blood lust. “Cameron had a family. A wife. Two daughters.”
Mace stopped, so Ivory was forced to turn around and face the wrath of the queen.
Queen Rolfe stepped forward and approached Ivory.
Ivory met her look without a hint of fear. “Who’s Cameron?”
She stopped a foot away from Ivory, her muscled arms by her sides, her fingers twitching for the hilt of her blade. “The guard you slew in the middle of the night. The man who came to provide you nourishment, and you stabbed him with his own knife. His wife is now a widow—and his daughters will never see their father again. Because of you.”
Ian came to my side, dressed in the same fur cloak, his gaze hardened like the edge of a blade.
Ivory held her stare, not giving a single blink, not a sign of hesitation. Strands of her long brown hair were in her face, covering part of her left eye and some of her lips. The breeze came and brushed it away, with the touch of a lover. She was shorter than my mother, petite in her build, but her appearance was misleading because she was capable of more than people realized. “I’m sorry that he died, but I’m not sorry that I did whatever I could to survive. If our situations were reversed, your actions would have been no different. So don’t punish me for—”
My mother slapped her hard, so hard her head turned. The clap resounded all around us. “Don’t speak of punishment. Your punishment hasn’t even begun.” Her arm flung out and grabbed Ivory by the neck and slammed her down.
I just stood there.
Ivory hit the ground but immediately got back to her feet.
My mother came down on her, fists flying, and hit her in the face over and over.
Ivory blocked a couple hits, but she would have done a better job if she actually knew what she was doing.
“You.” Hit. “Stupid.” Hit. “Girl.”
When Ivory was bloodied, my mother finally let up. She got off her—and spat on her face.
Blood came from Ivory’s nose, but she didn’t cry out in pain, and when she sat up, her eyes were full of the same rage that my mother shared.
Mace grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to her feet.
My mother returned to where Ian and I stood. “Lock up our prisoner. And this time, let’s make sure she doesn’t get away.” The brawl concluded, she headed back to the stone keep with Geralt at her side.
I watched Ivory be taken back to her cabin before I followed Ian and my mother. I’d known there would be consequences when we returned, but I didn’t warn Ivory because it probably would have made it more difficult to get her to comply. If I’d had to carry her ass all the way back, I would have. But I’d wanted to avoid that.