Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
“I figured as much.”
“I’m not going to stop fighting you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to.”
I thought that was weird. “And I’m not going to marry you.”
“We’ll talk about that later.”
“No, we won’t,” I said, starting toward my cloak with weary steps. I drew up short, cursing under my breath.
“What?” Casteel followed.
“There’s a dead Craven on my cloak.” I sighed heavily.
“That was an especially inconvenient place for it to fall.” He nudged it off the cloak, but the damage was already done. I could see and smell the rotten blood staining the garment.
“If I put that on, I will vomit,” I warned him.
Picking up my satchel, he draped it over his shoulder as he rose. “You ran far. Farther than I thought you would get,” he said. Since he wasn’t looking, I allowed myself a small smile. “But I don’t think you’ll freeze to death on the way back. Then you’ll rest,” he said, facing me. “You’ll need all your strength for the battles ahead, Princess.”
Chapter 5
The trip back to the keep was quiet and long. The wind had picked up, battering both of us. I’d begun to wonder if the gods had awakened, and this was their punishment. After all, if everything Casteel and the others had claimed was true, wasn’t I as counterfeit as the Queen and King of Solis? I’d done everything possible to handle how much the cold had begun to affect me, but it seemed impossible to hide anything from Casteel. Halfway through our journey, he ended up wrapping his arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to him as we forged forward, his body absorbing the brunt of the wind.
Gods help me, but I didn’t resist. I chalked it up to being far too tired and cold. It had nothing to do with his lush scent masking the stench of the Craven. It didn’t have anything to do with how…good it felt to lean on someone, for them to take the worst of the wind, to carry their weight and mine. Nor did it have anything to do with the simple luxury of being allowed this close to someone without fear of reprimand or being found unworthy.
Casteel was just…warm.
When we finally made it back to the keep, there was no telling what time it was. But despite my failure, I welcomed the warmth of the room. I was a walking ice cube, unable to feel my nose, and unsure if it was even still attached.
What I did not welcome was finding Kieran waiting inside the room, sitting in the corner chair by the fire.
He looked up, one eyebrow raised. “What took you two so long? I was actually beginning to wonder if she beat you.”
“You seem real concerned sitting there,” Casteel replied, ushering me toward the fireplace. I allowed it, as I was shivering so badly, I swore my bones were trembling.
Kieran grinned. “I was beside myself with worry.”
Casteel snorted. “We worked things out.”
“No, we didn’t,” I gritted out between chattering teeth.
Ignoring that, Casteel pried my clenched hands apart. “We ran into some Craven,” he told Kieran, tugging my damp gloves off. He dropped them onto the hearth. “A little over a dozen.”
Kieran tilted his head at me as Casteel moved to the side, slipping off my satchel. “Wonder how that would’ve worked out for you with your meat knife.”
“S-shut up,” I stammered, holding my fingers as close to the fire as I could without shoving them into the flames.
“She knows it wouldn’t have worked out all that well for her.” Casteel shoved a hand through his snow-kissed hair, dragging the thick strands back. “That’s why she’s cranky.”
“I doubt that’s the only reason,” Kieran remarked.
I shot him a look that would’ve withered him on the spot if he cared.
Apparently, he didn’t care, at least based on how his grin kicked up a notch. “I had a bath drawn. The water would be warmer if you had simply come back without too much trouble.”
I almost raced straight to the bathing chamber, but the way he said, “too much trouble” dripped with amusement. “Do you expect a thank you?”
“It would be nice,” he replied. “Doubt I will get one, though.”
Warmth crept back into my fingers in a prickly rush as I spared a quick, longing look toward the bathing chamber. “Your expectations would be correct, then.”
“They usually are.” He studied me for a moment and then rose from the chair. “I’ll wrangle up some men and go out and take care of the Craven.”
“I’ll come with you,” Casteel said, and I glanced over at him in surprise. He caught my stare before I could look away. “We don’t let them lay out there and rot. They were once mortal,” he explained. “We burn them.”
The same was done in Masadonia whenever the Craven reached the Rise, but it was the fact that he was volunteering to go back out there that shocked me. I would’ve expected that from Hawke, but this was the Prince. And it was freezing out. Then again, he didn’t appear even remotely fazed by the cold.