Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Seth twisted his mouth. “Why do you think the Aeons want her?”
“We won’t know unless we ask her. She’s currently in my Keep, so I suggest we do exactly that.”
They’d taken no more than three steps out of the room when they saw Azazel heading their way. The Ancient frowned. “There a problem?”
“We’ll explain on the way,” Cain told him.
*
Wynter handed the broadsword back to Maxim, who studied its brand-spanking new runes with utter fascination.
“And this enchantment will work on anyone the blade slices?” he asked.
“Yes, including you, so be careful,” she advised. “You wouldn’t truly be itching all over, but you’d think that you were, so you’d scratch and scratch and scratch—it’s not only distracting, it’s maddening. But it will stop after twenty minutes or so.”
“That’s … I’m impressed. Very.” He carefully sheathed his sword. “Thank you, Wynter.”
“No, thank you,” she said as he handed her payment.
She’d no sooner stuffed the cash in her pocket than a gentle breeze swirled around her ankles and traveled up her legs, fairly humming with warning. It wasn’t a warning of danger, though. More like a heads-up that she needed to be prepared.
The solar room door opened, and Cain stalked inside. He wasn’t alone. Seth and Azazel followed him into the room. And as all three men honed in on her, their expressions hard and intense, she suspected that at least one of her secrets were out.
Hell.
Maxim briefly greeted them before breezing out of the solar and abandoning her.
Cain stepped toward her, his bottomless eyes settled on her with a mind-melting focus that—even right then, despite the circumstances—did far too interesting things to her hormones. “Wynter, this is Azazel and my brother, Seth.”
Azazel squinted. “The Priestess of the Bloodrose Coven, right?” It felt like a trick question.
“No. My crew says that shit to wind me up.” She returned her gaze to Cain. “Well, I see you’re busy, so I’ll get going.”
“There’s no rush,” he said, his voice smooth and casual, yet there was a firmness there that insisted she stay. “You might be interested to know why I was called away just now.”
“Oh?”
“Bounty hunters requested an audience with an Ancient. They’re looking for someone in particular.”
Her insides seized. “Bounty hunters usually are.”
“In this case, they’re seeking a witch. A witch by the name of Wynter Dellavale. You. And they’re seeking you on behalf of the people of Aeon.”
“Yeah, so?”
He blinked. “You failed to mention that they wanted you when you came here looking for sanctuary.”
“You said you weren’t interested in what brought me or my crew here,” she reminded him. “Are you going to hand me over to the bounty hunters?”
He gave her a pointed look. “You and I have a verbal contract, remember?”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He closed the small space between them, pinning her gaze with his own. “I sent them away, Wynter. I will send away anyone who comes for you, or I will kill them—one or the other.” He stared at her like she was a puzzle he was desperate to solve. “Tell us why the Aeons want you.”
It wasn’t a request; it was a demand. And considering the Aeons might very well bring trouble to their door, she supposed it was only fair that the Ancients understood the situation. Not that she’d tell them everything. But then, they didn’t need to know everything.
“They exiled me,” she said.
“I know that much. But why?”
“My old coven lives in the town. Occasionally, people are ‘chosen’ to live among and directly serve the Aeons in the city below. In the opinion of the newly appointed Priestess, Esther, I was a weakness in the coven that would prevent them from being chosen, so they wanted me gone.”
“Why did they consider you a weakness?” asked Azazel.
“Because my magick is dark,” she replied. “Impure. Unworthy. Tainted. Or, at least, that’s how they see it.”
Azazel’s brow lifted. “You don’t?”
“No,” she said. “Whether or not magick is bad depends on the intentions of the user.”
He inclined his head. “True enough. I heard a witch was exiled but that the keeper who was meant to escort her to the border instead ran off with her. Was he killed by people on your trail?”
Just remembering that little shit stain made her nostrils flare. “Wagner didn’t attempt to escort me to the border. The Aeons claim they steal the memories of exiled people, put them to sleep, and then have someone drive them out of there. I learned something when I was exiled. I learned that, in fact, they paralyze you with power so that you’re easy for keepers to toss over the falls. The exiled are never truly banished. They’re killed.”
“But you escaped,” said Cain.
“I escaped. And Wagner got what was coming to him in the process.”
Cain’s eyes drifted over her face. “Why do the Aeons want you so badly? It cannot possibly be merely because you murdered a keeper and fled.”