Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“See? At least she is honest.” Tyree smiles. “From Westport, she will run to Shadowhelm and beg for safe haven from the king and queen—”
“I do not beg,” I snap.
He goes on, ignoring me. “Given Annika was once betrothed to their human son, they may grant it.”
“I still am betrothed to him.” Technically, anyway. Mother made the arrangements, and no one has officially called it off. “And how did you know about that?” Very few did.
“After all that Ybaris accomplished, you are still surprised by what I know?” Tyree sighs heavily. “I’ve never understood it, though. Why would a human king and queen wish a plague upon their people?”
“Because they understand the value of an alliance, unlike other royal families who are too stupid and hateful to see through their ignorance.”
“I think she’s talking about me,” Tyree mock whispers.
The captain shakes his head, but he’s grinning, entertained by our bickering.
“And I would not have infected him.”
“But you would have fed off him.” The amusement has slipped from his face.
I shrug. “If he permitted it.”
“I’m sure you could be very persuasive.” There’s a cold glint in his eyes. “It’s neither here nor there now.”
Wait. “Why do you say that?” What does Tyree know about what is happening to me? Is this something else the Ybarisans have caused?
“Because you are now betrothed to me.”
Right. That foolishness. “I am not! I never agreed to it.”
“Minor detail.”
“Your mother never agreed to it either, and Atticus never intended to honor it. He certainly won’t now that you’ve abducted me. He’ll have your head for this. He’ll have all your heads!” I waggle a finger at the sailors nearby. Some sneer, but most duck to avoid my attention, especially the ones whose emblems glow. Why is their blood still poison to me when I do not crave it?
Tyree tucks his hands behind his head as if relaxed. The sun glints off the multitude of silver scars across his sinewy forearms, where the legionaries subdued his elven affinity with a merth blade over the past weeks. “See what I have to look forward to, Captain?”
I smile through my simmering rage. “It is a good thing you will be dead soon, then.”
He shrugs. “Maybe not. There are sometimes healers in Westport.”
“Likely not powerful enough for that.” I nod toward his thigh. The wound still oozes blood. The dagger Father gifted me has proven as lethal as he warned.
“I have heard rumor of a powerful caster traveling with the exiled king and Ybarisan princess,” Captain Aron says, veering the conversation back to Islor. “In the Venhorn Mountains, which is only a few days’ travel from Northmost.”
“Yes, I know of Caster Gesine,” Tyree says, his humor from a moment ago evaporating. “Even if I could find her, I imagine she’d kill me faster than my future wife will.”
“I like her already,” I quip, earning Tyree’s eye roll. How Zander joined forces with such a caster is another answer I’d like, but my eldest brother has been carrying many secrets.
“That might be a more graceful death than the one the sea promises us if we cannot avoid this folly.” Captain Aron sets his sights on the northern horizon.
5
Romeria
The stench of death curls my nostrils as we ride through camp toward the bridge. Few soldiers are idle, working as teams to heave carcasses toward the rift. Those too big to move are surrounded by kindling, awaiting flames at nightfall. According to Radomir, once a sapling who survived in these mountains among the Nulling beasts, the combination of burning beast flesh and fire is a compelling deterrent.
“There!” I spot Kienen and Solange near our gates, where Elisaf said they would be. They look as battle-worn as the rest of us—streaked in blood, their bodies weighed down with exhaustion. With them are a handful of Ybarisan soldiers and Agatha, the tiny old Master of Scribes, hidden within a cloak.
Jarek, Elisaf, and I slide out of our saddles and stride to greet our allies, the smile on my face unbidden and wide, despite my troubled thoughts.
“Your Highness.” Solange offers a militant bow. Her face and lengthy chestnut-brown braids are relatively clean, thanks to the black mask and helm of her uniform, now tucked under her arm. “I did not expect to see glee from you.” Her expression remains stony. No one would ever accuse the Shadow leader and Mordain’s Second in the hierarchy of the Casters’ Guild of being warm and fuzzy.
“I’m relieved to see you all in one piece.” And invigorated, knowing I trusted right. “Thank you for bringing the healers. Elisaf was on his way to ask for them.”
Kienen dips his head. His youthful face has been wiped clean, but all around his hairline is proof that he battled hard. “We assumed your night was as eventful as ours, and that you could use the aid.”