Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
She would just get up, put on that costume, and leave without a word.
Of course, I didn’t care back then. And she wasn’t a lioness, either. Her human form is top-notch, but this… my God. She’s like a…
“What?” she asks again. Both eyes open now.
The word to describe her now is on the tip of my tongue. But I don’t say it out loud. Instead, I say, “We need to go into the Sphere Market to look for spelling stuff.”
“Oooh!” She sits up and takes a deep breath. “Yes. I’d like that. I need to look for a bottle.”
“I think you should stay here.” I actually was not thinking this until right now when the words came flying out of my mouth. But as soon as they’re out, I’m a hundred percent positive she cannot leave this room.
“What? No.” She stands up and stretches. So feline. And sexy. God, she really is sexy. “I’m not staying here.”
“Someone has to keep an eye on Ire.”
Now she scowls at me. “No. That’s not true. No one is going to mess with Ire. He’s not a horse. You can’t just put a bridle on him and lead him away.”
This is accurate. A pegásius is not a horse. They’re not even animals. I mean they are, insofar as all of us are. But pegási are not creatures you can steal. Which should concern me because I don’t have a clue as to the backstory of this pegásius—including how I seem to have convinced him to be mine.
This is the first time it kinda hits me that we’ve been traveling together—Callistina, Ire, and I—for some time before that moment on the road when we came through the doors. And there is a history there I am not familiar with.
“And anyway”—Callistina is talking again—“you can’t choose the bottle. I need to choose the bottle. And the magiceuticals. I’m an integral part of finding the doors. I’m going to the Sphere Market.”
She’s right. And I’m not really worried about the pegásius. I just don’t think Callistina can walk around this city looking like a lioness from the House of Fire and with the bloodlines of gods flowing through her veins and not drive people into utter madness. She’s that sublime.
“Also,” she continues, “this is my last chance to see this place. I’m not gonna hide here in this dingy inn. I’ll put the collar on and we can bring Ire with us. You can ride him, like a god”—she pauses here to smile at me—“and I’ll lead him, like your beast. We’ll still draw attention, but it will all be on you.”
Right. Lady, I want to say, no one is gonna be looking at me the moment you step out this door. But out loud I say, “Fine.” Because it’s a losing battle. She’s never gonna stay behind. And her plan is probably OK. “Let me put some clothes on—”
“Wait. Before breakfast?”
Her shock is so royal, so indignant, that I actually laugh. “Oh, I beg your pardon, my queen. I wasn’t thinking. You must be famished.”
This makes her smile. And relax. And pout. Which is very sexy on her. “I’m dying for some poached quail eggs and toast.”
“I understand, your highness, but we have to go out to get food. There is no room service at the inn.”
She laughs a little. “All right. What should I wear?”
“Nothing.”
“Something. A collar, at least. And a lead of some sort. You should be holding it as I lead Ire through the streets.”
“You seem awfully excited about being a slave. It’s disturbing.”
“It’s fake.” She shrugs. “Who cares. If we’ve got to put on a show, we might as well make it a good one.”
And once again, I can’t argue with that.
Both Ire and Callistina are far more excited about our trip through the city than I am, but it happens exactly the way Callistina predicted. The sunlight streams down on us like rain, casting everything in a golden glow. Most especially Callistina. Everyone looks at her. Gawks at her. Mouths open, stunned by her exotic beauty. They must not have many gryphon chimeras in Glory Rome these days. And that makes sense because Callistina is a royal beast. A bloodline that is just starting in this time, but has been, for the most part, perfected thousands of years from now when she is made.
She is perfection as far as chimera goes.
But just as they are getting their fill of her, they notice the beast she is leading. Ire isn’t dressed like a royal beast—because he’s not—but he’s just as regal as the former queen.
So again, mouths drop open. And they want to stop and ask questions. But then their eyes rise up to see me, sitting astride the pegásius, holding a lead that attaches to Callistina’s collar, both made of godsmetal. Which they can’t really know because it all just looks silver.