Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
But I couldn’t tell him. I was bound by Iris’s demands. And if I did kill him? Was Ian a bad man or a good one?
My gaze snagged on the table. On a bowl filled with fruit akin to apples and oranges. The Guardian and Jasher were fruit born of the same root. An orange tree couldn’t grow apples and vice versa. If Jasher was good, the Guardian must be too. Maybe. Probably.
When I tired of pacing, I showered and dressed in clean undergarments and a long, white nightgown. The only sleepwear available in the dresser drawers. Thankfully, there were undergarments for tomorrow too, as well as a shirt and leather pants folded and ready for tomorrow. I relocated the hat square and disc to a pocket in the leathers. Just in case.
Still my thoughts refused to settle. Failing to keep my word to Iris would make me a liar. Liars developed a crimen and summoned storms. Did I really want to fight more monstra? But wouldn’t killing the Guardian summon the monstra as well? And if not monstra, the entire royal army.
How might Jasher feel if I harmed the man who must be as significant to him as Daniel Shaker was to me?
Ian hated the monstra. How could I slay an ally against the plague upon Hakeldama?
Frustrated, I stroked my compass…which I needed to return to Jasher, who might not wish to speak with me.
I turned off the lights and climbed into the soft, soft bed, where I thrashed about, unable to sleep without the executioner’s strength and heat. Even when I finally found a position comfortable enough to settle, I did nothing but swing from one decision to another. Do feed Ian the disc. Don’t. Do. Don’t.
The constant upheaval exhausted me, and my eyelids grew heavy. Heavier. They began to slide shut until I caught sight of a moving shadow outside the canopy of falling stars. Instant awareness. Did I detect a soft pad of footsteps? My heart raced with anticipation. Had Jasher come for a visit? I didn’t move, too afraid of scaring him away.
The shadow slinked closer. Closer. Hmm. I didn’t detect his scent.
My ring heated to sizzling in a blink. Danger! Fear sparked, my mind castigating me for my lack of foresight. In my distraction, I hadn’t kept a weapon nearby.
The intruder stopped at my bedside, and I heaved with relief. Patch. Except, she lifted a dagger—and swung. I screamed as I rolled to the other side of the mattress and scrambled off. My feet tangled in the hem of my nightgown, and I tripped forward.
By the time I righted, she was ready. We faced off. It was then I noticed the chair pushed beneath the handle on the door, stopping any guards from entering.
“Why?” I demanded, darting my gaze. Weapon, weapon, where was a weapon? The table! Knives.
Torment glazed her features. “If you go home, I’ll have to return to West’s stable. I promised I’d kill you before you left. It was the only way to gain my freedom. I-I can’t go back. I’m so sorry.” Though crying, she lunged, taking another swing at me. “I’m bound by my word.”
Utilizing a move taught by Jasher, I blocked and launched a strike of my own. Contact! Knuckles met cheekbone. The girl’s head lurched to the side, blood and spittle spraying from her mouth. She fell but didn’t drop the knife.
I wasted no time, sprinting to the kitchen table. Argh! The knives and forks were gone, only spoons remaining. Not knowing what else to do, I slammed a champagne bottle against the table edge. Glass shards rained to the floor.
I stretched the broken bottle in her direction. “Don’t come at me again. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”
A trickle of blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. “I can’t let you live.” She crawled closer, standing along the way. “I’ve made my move. Ensured Leona sleeps. Blocked the guards. I won’t get another chance.” She picked up speed.
The moment we reached striking distance, we slashed at each other. I cut her; she sliced me. Then we were grappling, crashing into a recliner, the floor. The bumps and cuts I acquired barely registered as adrenaline surged, dulling the worst of the pain.
The bedroom door burst open, wood shards flying. Guards rushed into the room, hurrying over to tear us apart. Strong, tattooed arms banded around me. A familiar heavenly scent filled my nose.
“Are you all right, princess?”
Jasher? Panting, I spun, facing the guard who held me. Yes! His hair wasn’t quite tamed, and concern glowed in his sunset eyes. With a cry of despair and relief, I threw myself against him.
“What happened?” he demanded, one hand in my hair, the other pressed against my lower back.
“Patch promised West she’d kill me in exchange for her freedom.”