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)
We would?
“And perhaps, share our favorite books.”
Books?
“I’ve long wanted to do these things with you,” he explained. “But as you know, business, overseeing Bower Manor, the farmers, the shepherds, the foresters, I’m always too busy.”
This was true.
What was also true was that in those times, his daughter had not been queen.
I found it expedient in that moment to say, “We will find time, Father.”
He reached to my hand, took it, and laid his other upon it, smiling down at me.
“This gladdens my heart, daughter. You cannot know how much.”
I couldn’t know, ’twas true.
I might not believe, that was true too.
I forced myself to smile up at him.
He let me go with a return smile and melted into the revelers.
I sought a place of darkness and quiet, which was not easily found.
But once I found it, I drew my shadow over myself so I would have privacy.
Fortunately, those who passed close, or stopped close, only to stumble away, didn’t need me to have my shadow shrouding me. They were lost to inebriation (and smoke, and possibly even ashesh or koekah).
But I felt safe in my magical cloak.
And in it, I leaned against a broken column (that I decided was designed that way, for it was fetching, partially covered in vines) and wished I’d found a glass of cool water or juice to enjoy in my moment of calm.
I had much to think on.
Not only all I’d suffered since I awoke last night to villains climbing into my rooms.
But also the fact that Cassius seemed angry with Elena, and Elena seemed watchful and repentant to Cassius (which was quite a turnabout with those two, not that Cassius ever seemed repentant, but when it came to Elena, he was definitely watchful).
Not to mention poor, beautiful Farah had lost her lovely mother and had been abed all day, with True consistently going up to attend her.
Indeed, my cousin had practically bowled my new husband and I over, he’d raced down the mountain after our ceremony so fast. We’d barely walked over the threshold into the palace before True was charging up the steps to get back to his intended.
And then there was Aramus and Ha-Lah.
In fact, there was especially Aramus and Ha-Lah.
Something was very wrong there.
Dreadfully wrong.
But Ha-Lah was so closed off, regardless of the stunning gown she wore, you didn’t approach (and her gown, one could argue, was even more beautiful than mine—a froth of white tulle at her ankles from which rose a swirl of silver sequins that seem to crest like a wave over her breasts, the rest sheer (you could see her white panties!) with thin straps and drop shoulders into poofs that led to sleeves with more silver beads and sequins dancing like tributaries and small islands on her arms—it was exquisite!).
But her demeanor made it seem she was not wearing the most gorgeous gown (outside mine) of the day.
It seemed she was wearing spines and bristles.
And her eyes held pain.
I should talk to her.
I could not talk to her.
For the last thing on my mind was the fact that I faced my marital bed.
And my marriage.
To a man who could…
A man who could…
A man who could slice another man in half, cuddle me as men sunk to their deaths, and what he and his men did in the necropolis.
And then, one day in the future, he would share me, and I would be forced to share him, and our marital bed would be a marital bed no more.
Not really.
“Silence.”
My head jerked up and I stared at my king striding toward me with purpose.
I had been standing there, I had no idea how long. It was probably only minutes, and it was dark and private, but there were many people about.
And I was shadowed.
So no one saw me.
No one who walked (or drunkenly ambled) past saw me.
But my husband was walking right to me.
Oh no.
My shadow had not been faulty the other eve in his bedchamber.
He could see through it!
How could this be?
Balls!
I dropped it before he arrived and as I was very quickly becoming accustomed, now that I was his, officially, legally, in the eyes of his gods (and probably mine, even if we had not been wed in a temple), he did not hesitate to lay his hands on me.
This he did by cupping my jaw in both of his big palms and dipping his face right into mine.
“Are you well?” he asked.
I stared through the moonlight and lamplight and lanternlight at his handsome visage.
I wondered how he got those scars since I had seen him wield a sword, and no one got remotely close enough with even a tip, before they perished.
“Silence,” he growled, the rumble filled with concern.
I opened my mouth, but he straightened. Catching me in the curve of an arm, he shifted his other hand back so it sifted through my hair as he drew me to his body.