The Three Kings (Forsaken #3) Read Online Penelope Sky

Categories Genre: Dark, Dragons, Fantasy/Sci-fi, New Adult, Paranormal, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Forsaken Series by Penelope Sky
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 116396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 466(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
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“What if he imprisons me?”

“He won’t.”

He stared at me.

“I won’t let him.”

The stare continued.

“That was why you came to me, right?”

He looked forward again. “Sounds like you believe me, then.”

“I wish you would tell me more. But yes, I believe you.”

Bastian and I walked together through the lit streets, heading to the castle that stood as a beacon of hope to all the Runes. He left his weapons behind, but he marched me to the gate like a man about to go to war. His posture was rigid and contained despite the large strides he took, and his head was always up high, as if he balanced a crown on top. “He’s not good enough for you.”

I turned at the comment, my eyebrows raised. “What are you talking about?”

“The man in your bed.”

“Are you literally watching me through the bedroom window?”

“No. But I’ve seen him come and go in the middle of the night. That can only mean one thing.”

“You need to get a hobby that doesn’t involve stalking people.”

“I’ve accomplished what I’ve set out to do—so no more stalking necessary.”

“Thank the gods.”

“But I’m still right—he’s not good enough for you.”

My head turned back. “He’s just a good lay. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“And that’s all he is to you?”

My eyes narrowed. “Why are you asking me these things?”

He never answered.

“How would you feel if I asked you something so personal? You wouldn’t even tell me your name.”

“Who I’m sleeping with is a lot less personal than my name.”

“Damn, that’s cold.”

“Not as cold as you, considering the guy is enamored by you.”

“He is not enamored by me—”

“For a smart girl, you aren’t that observant.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Who are you sleeping with?”

“No one.”

“Really? A guy like you?”

He halted.

Shit. I halted too.

He stared at me for three hard seconds. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know… You’re dark and mysterious. All you’re capable of is a nighttime bang.”

“Really? Because it seemed like you meant something else.”

“Nope.” I’d lie through my teeth until the end of time.

He moved forward again. “Cut him loose.”

“Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

“No. I told you what to do.”

“Motherfucker, who do you think you’re talking to?”

He stopped again. “A woman with a heart. I’ve seen the way you’ve protected your people. I’ve seen the way you love your brothers. I know the guy is putting up a front because he doesn’t want it to end, so you can’t see it. But this relationship means a hell of a lot more to him than it does to you. You’re not selfish. You aren’t sadistic. So just take my word for it and end it before he really gets hurt.”

All I could do was stare at him now because this man was so acquainted with my life as if he’d been a part of it for a long time. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t,” he said coldly. “But I know you do.”

The conversation died, and we both continued on our way to the castle. The guards checked him for weapons, and once he was clear, we entered the main doors and stepped into the large foyer. Since he was an unwelcome visitor, a team of guards escorted us up the stairs to where the throne sat with the windows behind the chair.

The guards blocked the path of retreat, so there was nowhere for Bastian to flee.

Asher was there, his eyes always judgmental. “I’ll retrieve His Highness.”

It was still weird to think of Ian as a king—even if it was temporary.

If Bastian was nervous about the situation, he didn’t share it. He was as calm as he was in the bar, as if our heated conversation hadn’t just happened. With his arms relaxed by his sides, he stood there, his eyes on the windows that gave a view of the sky beyond.

It seemed as if I was more nervous than he was—and my neck wasn’t on the line.

After minutes of silence, Ian emerged. Dressed in the garments of a king, the feather crest on his chest, he entered the room with the energy of a Rolfe, as if he owned this castle and everyone in it. He ascended the steps then slowly dropped onto the wooden throne, his arms sprawling across the armrests, his fingers curling over the edges. His broadsword was at his hip. Just like Queen Rolfe, he handled executions himself. Didn’t hand the responsibility off to someone else.

Bastian stared.

Ian stared. His gaze was more perceptive, probably trying to gauge any evidence that Bastian truly was Necrosis. Without the dark marks on his skin and the strain of hard features, there was no way to recognize him for what he was. He’d fooled me. I was sure he would have fooled everyone else too—if he hadn’t told me.

Ian continued his hard stare, looking a bit like Huntley with a hooded brow and angry eyes.


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