Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67421 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
She slipped the rings from her fingers and placed them in the priestess’s palm. Dark wings unfurled behind the cloaked woman—wings made of more shadow than feather, and more magic than flesh.
Elina reached for his hand, entwining their fingers. Despite the gathering crowd, it was utterly quiet as a sweep of shadowed wings lifted the priestess into the air. She carried the stars to Anhera’s outstretched hand and slid the rings—many times larger now—onto the goddess’s taloned fingers.
Warrick found himself holding his breath. Then it was knocked from him as Bannin suddenly embraced him, thumping his back.
Thumping his back with a hand of flesh.
Cries rose around them, rising and rising until they became a roar of voices. A laughing Bannin grabbed Warrick’s face before smashing a kiss to his mouth, then twirled back, lifting his arms over his head and howling with glee. Elina was laughing, too, and clutching his hand ever tighter. Suddenly she stilled and her mouth dropped open.
Tears gleamed in her eyes. “Look.”
At the supplicating statues…no longer statues, but again flesh and blood. Disoriented but moving—and now swarmed by those helping them rise, then sobbing and embracing.
Bannin returned from his twirl, his happy tears streaming down his face. He clapped Warrick’s shoulders and shouted, “Warrick the Cursebreaker!”
Elina grinned up at him. “It is a good name. He broke my curse, too.”
“Did he?” Bannin’s brows rose. He gave Warrick a sly glance.
Warrick knew that look. With a pained sigh, he shook his head. He’d forgotten all about the plan to break a curse with his cock. “I will explain later.”
Bannin barked out a laugh before abruptly sobering and looking to Elina. “It must be asked—did you steal the jewels? Or know who did?”
“I did not. I do not.” She spread her hands. “They came to me two years past, when I was traveling through Talladale.”
“A raven dropped them into her lap. No jest,” said Warrick, when Bannin gave to him a disbelieving glance.
“I had not known what they were. Not until Warrick told me. All credit for their return belongs to him.”
Bannin knew enough of the world to know that was untrue. There were many who would not have relinquished the jewels so easily. And as if to contradict her assertion of deserving no credit, a woman holding an infant came to Elina, near incoherent in her gratitude. “My baby…she was— You, never enough. Anything you wish, I will. Anything for you.”
Elina’s gaze flicked to his, and Warrick saw again her horrible guilt. Yet his queen would never be ungracious, and her smile was genuine as she stroked the child’s cheek with a gentle forefinger. “I wish for nothing except that you love and cherish this little one for many years to come. I was very happy to help—and I am so very happy for you both.”
Another came to thank her. Another. She seemed more stricken by each one, though Warrick doubted anyone else could recognize her distress. No one else would understand the straightness of her shoulders and stiffness of her spine. His wife was at the very end of her strength, though now it was her emotional strength and not the physical. Instead of smiling, she likely wished to burst into tears.
Warrick well knew how undeserved the gratitude for righting a wrong could feel. He’d been thanked many times in this same way—beyond mere recognition of a simply righted wrong and accompanied by offers of gold, favors, and blood obligations. All made him leave a place as quickly as could be. Yet Elina must feel the additional burden of accepting thanks for a wrong that she felt she had done to these people, by possessing the jewels for so long.
He pulled Bannin near, spoke low. “She is overwhelmed. I will take her to the inn near the mill. This time ought to be for Galoth—those who suffered and grieved, and who now are reuniting.”
“And I must go to Helana and Ouin.” Then Bannin grinned and he boomed out, “But we will feast this night! Be prepared to drink a thousand toasts to your name, Cursebreaker. And, of course, to the lovely Queen Elina.”
She laughed as he bowed deeply before her, then laughed all the more when he bent over her hand and gallantly kissed her fingers.
Lips against her skin, he eyed Warrick over her knuckles. “Look how he is ready to take that axe to my head merely for touching your hand. Some friend he is, yes?”
“He is.” Elina lifted her gaze to his. “Truly the best of friends—and will be the best of kings.”
Bannin’s brows rose, as if this were the first time he’d grasped the full ramifications of Warrick calling a queen his wife. “I will hear this story later?”
“You will,” Warrick told him. “This night, at the inn’s tavern.”
For there was part of the story that Elina had yet to hear, too.