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)
“Why did you call me Wren?”
“Ah.” He tilted his head to the side. “I wanted them to know you are mine.”
“Wasn’t that the point of me playing your pet?”
“This felt . . . more succinct.”
“Why?”
“Did you read the book that I gave you?”
“This one?” She had started it, but then he had distracted her with information about the heist.
“That one,” he confirmed.
The book flopped open all on its own to the story she’d been reading—The Oak and the Holly King.
In the tale, summer and winter were gods who fought for their claim on this world. The Oak King was the conquering hero, the spring and summer champion that brought forth sunlight and joy. The Holly King was the dark, elusive winter god. He was as feared as he was praised. Twice a year, on the nights of the solstices, the two kings would battle. With the Holly King’s loss, the Oak King shepherded in spring, and with the Oak King’s loss, the Holly King brought forth fall.
She loved the story, the turning of the seasons explained in this fantastical way. But she didn’t know how this was supposed to help her understand Graves. He was a warlock, not a winter god.
Yes, the wren was an important representation of the Holly King, just as the robin was for the Oak King. But she just wore a wren pendant. Had Graves chosen holly as his symbol because of this story? Was he calling her Wren because he saw her as a symbol of rebirth? A muse? It was so convoluted. Answers wrapped up in fairy tales.
She didn’t have the words to spar with him about this today. Not with the magic burn. Not with him purposely playing her.
He smirked and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Read the book.”
They breathed the same space for a tense moment. Neither of them willing to back down or move forward.
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“Now that I know where you stand, we can begin. I have to be away on business today to look for the final thing I need for the heist. You should train with Edgar when you feel well enough. We’ll meet once I have what I need.” He turned his eyes to the letters, dismissing her.
She stared a hole through his skull, but he never looked up. “That’s it?”
“You need to regain your strength. We can do nothing until then,” he said, casually tossing another letter in the fire.
She nodded, gritting her teeth. Fine. She would read the book. She would train. And she wouldn’t forget that he could play her as well as she could play him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kierse trained until she thought she would literally collapse. Then she trained some more. She’d lost a day to her magic burn, and she couldn’t afford to lose another. But by the time night fell, Graves still hadn’t returned.
She had just considered crawling into bed when she dug out her burner phone and saw that she had a message from Nate, asking to meet. Now that she was well enough to move again, she needed to get out of the house and hear how her friends were doing.
She changed into all black, slunk from her room—careful to evade the new cameras Graves had installed—and slipped out of the house without anyone the wiser.
Kierse headed toward the subway entrance on Amsterdam, but within a few blocks, she was flagging. There was no way she was going to be able to make it very far, let alone brave the subway in her condition. Between magic burn and training, she was shot.
It was an outrageous expense, but she flagged down a cab, directing it toward Greenwich Village. She paid the cab when he dropped her off and was back out into the cold night with a sigh. Nate had agreed to meet at the coffee shop, but all she wanted to do was say fuck it and walk straight into the Dreadlords’ headquarters. She missed her friends so much. Her friends and the attic and Colette.
Maybe if she hadn’t still been recovering, she would have noticed the Druids before they closed in.
“Hello, Kierse,” Declan said with a feral grin.
Declan and a half dozen Druids materialized out of the darkness. In the state she was in now, they’d kill her before she could move a muscle.
She reached for bravado as she faced him fully. “Declan. What can I do for you?”
“Funny you should ask,” Declan said. “Lorcan wants to talk to you.”
“It’s not a good time. Maybe we could set up a meeting. I can pencil him in.” She felt like laughing at him, but he looked so goddamn serious. She just didn’t have the energy for it.
“Lorcan won’t be kept waiting.”
Kierse rolled her eyes. “Do you hear yourself? You sound ridiculous.”
“We either take you willingly or by force.” He crossed his arms over his beefy chest. “It’s up to you.”