Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
“Farah!” True clipped. “Halt!” he ordered.
We halted, even my horse did so, though I didn’t pull the reins as I could not tear my eyes from True, or my thoughts from his last words.
“Farah.”
I swallowed hard so I would not wail my fury for who knew what would happen if I did that.
“Farah!” True barked.
It was his voice in that tone that made me blink.
And when I did, a vast shower of leaves that were floating all around fell to the ground about us.
The horses shifted with agitation.
Oh dear.
“Was that you?” he asked, and I noted his men had closed ranks and drawn swords.
They were concerned there was other magic out there and they did not know who wielded it.
“Yes,” I told him. “I’m sorry. My magic comes to me through emotion. I’ve…” I drew in breath. “I’ve kept a very tight control over it since, well, since my father…”
“Yes, I understand,” True muttered.
Yes.
Somehow True always did.
His men sheathed their swords.
“I did not want to make matters worse because sometimes, I can control it and sometimes,” I lifted a hand and let it fall, indicating my control of the leaves, “I cannot.”
“You do not have to feel sorry for me, sweetling,” True said gently.
“I do not feel sorry for you, caro. I feel fury, and I do not mean to offend or show disrespect, but it is aimed at your mother.” As I’d started this, I decided to give him it all. “And your father.”
I heard a “huh” coming from Florian and a grunt from Wallace.
I cast my eyes down. “I’m again so very sorry, saying these things is disrespectful to your queen and king.”
“They agree with you,” True stated and I lifted my gaze to him. “I just tired of hearing them complain about my parents so I asked them to stop.” True shifted his horse nearer to mine. “Father, I cannot say. But Mother…she has her faults, but she is loyal to me and I believe, in her way, loves me.”
“I will not love our children as she loves you,” I informed him.
His beautiful mouth quirked. “I’m counting on that.”
“And when I am queen, when I am mother to the future king, I will not allow her to love our children as she loved you,” I went on.
“Finally, the fiery Firenz is coming out of her,” Luther declared.
“About time,” Wallace muttered.
I looked between them.
They had not much engaged me at all. Not due to rudeness or dislike, my sense was that it was due to me being in mourning.
Now that they had, I felt a wonderful warmth at their vocal approval.
At this point, True asked bizarrely, “Is he closer?”
“He is, True,” Alfie answered.
“And in the trees?” True went on.
“Yup,” Alfie said.
“Well, hullo!” Florian called.
I gave my attention to him then turned it to where he was staring into the woods.
The instant I did, a male slid out of a tree, doing this down a stout vine, on which he stopped, holding onto it, at least seven feet from the ground.
He had a long white beard, a long mustache that curled at the tips, and was wearing trousers and boots that laced up the front, a cloak on his shoulders with the hood up over his head, shadowing his eyes.
And he was maybe, at most, two feet tall.
Another popped up from behind a fallen log, then climbed up on it.
Both of them stared at us.
Or…
It appeared…
Me.
“Is that your bride, my prince?” the one on the log called, his voice a little tinny, and I was shocked he spoke thus without first giving a greeting and a bow.
“It is,” True answered.
“Our apologies, mistress,” the one hanging from the vine said, his voice somewhat squeaky. “Your great beauty everlastingly tied to this ugly mug,” and he arched his body to push off, swaying his vine toward True. “Tragic,” he finished.
I felt my lips part.
True laughed out loud.
I felt my mouth drop open.
I had never heard him laugh like that.
“Does she speak?” the one on the log asked True.
“She does when she’s not frozen in astonishment at displays of shocking insolence toward the crown prince,” True answered. “I’ve a mind to send to Birchlire for the royal tormentor and have you both flogged.”
“Is there a royal tormenter?” the one on the log asked the one on the vine.
“No,” the one on the vine said.
“I’m recruiting,” True told them.
“I’m good with a whip,” the one on the log returned.
All the men laughed, even the male gnomes.
“Come, meet Farah, your future princess,” True bid. “She wishes to see The Doors.”
“It’s good she wishes it,” the vine gnome said as he slid down to the ground and both of them approached. “We often say yes to beautiful women. Ugly princelings, no.”
True chuckled.
He also dismounted, rounded his magnificent horse (aptly named Majesty) at the rear and came to me. He put his hands to my waist and pulled me down, then held my hand as he walked us back around and stopped us in front of the little ones.