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)
He would not have told her like this.
“Was that truly what happened?” Elina’s face was a mask and she stared woodenly ahead. “You accepted my proposal—and insisted on sharing my bed—so you could take the rings?”
“At the prison, I assumed you were the one who’d stolen them. I thought you’d cursed Galoth.” Sick dread twisted through his gut. She’d crossed her arms over her chest, holding herself separate from him. Warrick could not even take her hand as he said urgently, “All was different after the pool and the mudbeast. I understood then how wrong I’d been.”
“I see,” she said flatly.
“Then Warrick says to me, ‘Go home, Bannin the Mighty! By summer’s end, I will bring to you the rings and the head of the hag queen!’—and so he did. Never let it be said Warrick the Cursebreaker does not keep his promises…though I did not think her head would still be attached! And a lovely head it is, Your Highness.” Amid more laughter, he bowed to Elina before turning again to cry out, “That is another tale to be told: the story of a second curse broken by our Cursebreaker, as the horrid gold hag became a comely young queen—a queen to whom Anhera’s raven delivered the Stars of Anhera, so that she might bring them to our home and end the curse of stone. Let us drink to the Radiant Queen of Aleron!”
Chants of “The Radiant Queen!” rose through the courtyard. Shoulders straight and spine stiff, Elina smiled and nodded to those nearest around them.
“Now let us hear from the ghost-talking warrior! Join me, Warrick the Cursebreaker—the story you tell will be legend!”
He cared nothing of legends. “Elina,” he said desperately, for all of her had become rigid. Her body, her face, and the silvery gaze whose focus refused to fix on him. As if looking at him no longer brought her pleasure. He caught her face between his hands and something deep within his chest cracked when still she would not meet his eyes. “You know that none of what I believed must be done in the prison was done. All was overturned as soon as I understood that I was wrong.”
“It must have been.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “After all, my haggard gold head is still attached to my neck.”
His throat constricted. “Elina—”
“Go be with your friends. Tell them the legendary story they wish to hear. How you saved me from the mudbeast and broke the false curse, exposing those who betrayed me so that we could travel west to return the rings. Tell them how it was meant to be. Tell them of the raven and the prophecy that I spoke into truth because I was so desperate to help my people and to be loved.” Stepping back, she pulled her face from the embrace of his hands. “I will return to the inn.”
“I will return with—”
“No! I will be well.” Staring fixedly away, she said in a strained voice, “And I would not have you with me now.”
He could not breathe. She did not want to be with him now…or always? Feeling as if she’d cleaved an axe through his chest, Warrick watched her slip through the crowd and into the inn.
A hard clap against his shoulder jolted him forward. “All is well?” Bannin asked.
Bannin. Sudden rage flooded the bleeding gash inside Warrick’s chest. His hands clenched into fists, fighting the urge to turn and thrash the man. To tear his loose tongue from his mouth.
But Warrick had only himself to blame. Everything Bannin said had first spouted from Warrick’s own tongue. Nor could he blame Bannin for making a jest of it all. Mistaking Elina for some haggard gold villainess was laughable. As had been Warrick’s plan to retrieve the jewels from her.
But his friend could not know it was no joke to him. Not when Warrick knew how near he came to never seeing Elina for who she was. How near he came to losing her.
Now he might, anyway.
“What ails you, brother? Are you too parched to speak? Get this man an ale!”
A mug was shoved into his hand. But Warrick was not parched. Nor could he drink. He could not swallow anything past the ache in his throat as he pictured the mask Elina had worn. He’d seen it before. Not the gold paint, but the face beneath it—her features stiffened, as the rest of her was, yet not merely from holding onto her strength.
That was the mask she used to conceal her pain.
“Ahhh.” Bannin made a drawn-out sound of understanding. “I see what’s distracted you. And I’ll say, I feared this might happen. Not everyone stayed as true to those lost to the curse as Helana did. Some took up another love, yet now the old loves have returned…” He blew out a lip-buzzing breath and smacked Warrick’s chest with the back of his hand. “Well, go on with you. I’ll tell them you have a ghost to find and a wrong to right—and you’ll tell us your legend another time.”