Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Getting past the guards at the gate and the front door is as easy as expected. Even easier is finding the group from the tavern. They’re gathered around a battered wooden table on the main floor, and the tavern’s proprietor is standing on a chair.
“I remember a time when being Unseelie was a badge of honor,” he shouts.
“Hear! Hear!” his comrades cheer, raising their glasses.
“We didn’t ally with the Seelie Court,” he continues, “we plotted their downfall!”
“Those were the days!” a horned female sings from the corner.
A fork-tongued orc grunts. “Some of us never stopped.”
The proprietor grins down at his audience. “We should go to the palace tonight. Kill her in her sleep. Mordeus has risen. Why wait for a full army when the gods are on our side?”
“You’re drunk!” the horned female says.
“That’s a death wish,” another shouts.
“You don’t think I could do it? I could. I used to work for Mordeus. I know all the palace’s secrets. I could get in there without anyone knowing and have her blood on my hands before she could cry for her trash human mother.”
That gets a laugh, but I’ve heard enough and emerge from the shadows.
The first night I found my way among Mordeus’s followers, I hated every second. I hated walking among them, breathing the same air as them. I hated listening to their carefree laughter mixing with joyous, boisterous music. How dare they be so happy when their souls were so stained? How dare they have so much when they’ve stolen from those who have nothing?
But I quickly learned to relish it. Learned to associate stepping into their strongholds with the satisfying final gasp of death. Tonight, I don’t even have to fake my smile. I don’t have to fake the thrill in my eyes as I direct the full power of my attention right at the drunken fool who would love nothing more than to plunge an iron blade into my sister’s heart.
He sees me and straightens. “Well, hello.”
“Hello.” I smile as his eyes go glossy.
His entire table leans longingly toward me, and the female from the corner moves in my direction, but I keep all my attention focused on their drunken, ranting, wife-beating leader.
“Would you take me upstairs? Somewhere quiet, perhaps?”
He hops down from his chair, stumbling over his own feet before righting himself, then comes toward me. “It would be my absolute honor, milady.” His pretty words are punctuated with a hiccup.
One of his friends jumps up from his chair and grabs his arm. “You should stay here. You have a wife. I’ll take the lovely lady wherever she wants.”
The proprietor yanks free. “She asked for me.” He turns to meet my eyes again.
I pretend not to notice that he’s shaking with nerves and glee. When he offers me his arm, I take it, letting him lead me to the stairs.
The second floor is darker than the first, and again my old fears clutch at my heart and drive me to check to make sure my ring is in place. I’ll finish this quickly. I don’t want to linger near this male with his evil plans and his stink of ale and hatred.
“Where would you like to go?” he asks at the top of the stairs. He reaches out and opens a bedroom door. “There’s privacy here. Does this suit milady?”
“Indeed.” I step inside, turning toward him when he’s only just beyond the threshold. “Kiss me.”
“Yes.” He bends toward me and brushes his lips against my smile.
I don’t bother catching his body as it falls to the floor or hiding the satisfaction I feel as I saunter out of the room. Perhaps I should feel remorse. Maybe once I would have. But I don’t. My sister will be safe. The male’s young wife will be safe. This realm is better without him.
I return to the hall and pull the hood of my cloak back on as I move toward the stairs.
Voices in a room beyond the stairs make me hesitate, and I step into the shadows to listen.
“Our king is weak,” a deep voice says. “He needs time before he can address the crowds.”
“No one will believe Mordeus lives without seeing his face.”
My cold heart skips a beat. I don’t want to believe it’s true—or maybe I pray it is. I’m not sure how I feel, but the more people speak of it, the harder it is to deny.
“Then they aren’t true followers. Did he not promise us a better future? Did he not promise us a world where we can use our power as we were born to?”
“Yes, but—”
“So they wait. He will see them when he’s ready.”
“Of course.”
“In the meantime, sober up those fools. That is no army fit for a king.”
“Agreed, my lord. Do we have any word from our people in the capital?”