Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Her fever had topped out at a hundred and five for a whole day, and she’d seen stars. The next three weeks, she had been laid up in bed. Normally, she healed so quickly. She should have died from it. A lot of people did during the Monster War, but even after she’d officially gotten over the illness, it had clung to her like a dryer sheet unable to shake off.
The aftermath of the wish powder felt much the same.
She needed to figure out how long she had been unconscious. They were short on time, and any loss would directly impact the mission. Fuck.
Kierse kicked off her covers and found thermal sweats in her closet. She tugged on a pair of Sherpa slippers, then snatched her wren necklace off the counter and put it back around her neck where it belonged. She grabbed the book Graves had given her and padded downstairs.
Early-morning light from the windows outside her room made her squint. She held her hood tight over her brow and walked like a specter to the kitchen. It felt like dragging her body over hot coals and then dry ice by the time she made it. Two flights of stairs were two too many.
The kitchen was empty. So, Kierse padded to the sink, poured herself a glass of water, and downed it in two seconds flat. Then she poured herself a second glass. She shivered as she held the cold liquid in her hands and headed to the open sitting room door. Secretly, she was hoping it would just be Anne curled up in front of a lit fire, but what she found instead was Graves.
He was seated in the armchair closest to the fire with the packet of letters open in the lap of his black slacks. His gray sweater was fitted, exceedingly expensive and high-quality, but it was disarming to see him look almost . . . normal. That blue-black hair fell into his eyes. It was still wet, as if he’d come straight from the shower. Her cheeks heated at the thought of him in a shower. She was most surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing his gloves. He always wore them, even in the house.
Kierse took a step forward as if drawn to him. His head snapped up. Their eyes met, and the memory of their kiss slithered through her mind. The way he’d slammed her back against the wall. The moment he’d called her a siren. It flooded her, heating her through.
Because she had liked it. And the look on his face said he had liked it, too.
Graves jumped to his feet. “Wren, you’re awake.”
The nickname brought a ghost of a smile to her face. “How long have I been out?”
“Just over a day,” he said.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “We can’t afford to lose a day. I should be in training.” Even though it felt like the last thing she could do.
“Forget about training,” he said. “You could have died. Take a seat.”
She accepted his offer. The warmth of the fire licked at her, and she leaned into it, remembering that this was what his body felt like against hers.
“Thank you.”
He sat across from her, dropping the letters onto the side table. “It’s good to see you up and about again.”
“Yeah. I haven’t felt that bad in ages.” Her eyes lingered on the letters, and she wondered what he’d found in their contents. If it was the last bit of information they needed to get the spear. She could do this job and then . . . leave. Because that was what she wanted. As her eyes slid over his handsome face, it was hard to make those words form in her mind.
She was saved from having to think more about that when Anne slunk into the room from the door Kierse had left open.
Her yellow eyes glanced between both of them before she jumped up onto a pile of books and made herself comfortable.
“Hello, kitty,” Kierse said. She stroked the cat’s back once, and when Anne only glowered at her, she did it again.
“I see you met Anne Boleyn,” he said fondly. “She’s as tempestuous as her namesake.”
Kierse blinked. “Wasn’t she the queen of something?”
“Indeed. She was Henry VIII’s second wife. Famous for beguiling the king and turning the world upside down from the force of his affection.”
“Sounds like my kind of woman.”
Graves grinned. “And then he cut her head off for it.”
Kierse couldn’t help the short bark of a laugh that escaped her. “Of course he did.” She glanced to the ceiling and back. “Sex and danger. The best kind of stories.”
“Such an interesting perspective,” Graves said as he shook his head at her and returned his attention to the pile of letters. Kierse had her sights set on the cat.
“We are going to be fast friends,” she insisted.