Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
That explanation made no sense for this trip. There were no substitutes here. Unless…
One of many.
I balled my fists. Now I understood. Jasher was the sacrifices. Alive, and yet for all intents and purposes, also dead. But his life and death mattered to me. I couldn’t, wouldn’t, sacrifice him or anyone else. Not even to save my father. As I’d told Patch, the end never justified the means.
“I’m staying,” I bellowed. I would find another way to reunite with my father. Until then, I could help my mother’s people. The Guardian must be stopped. The sooner the better.
Jasher blinked at me, as if he didn’t believe what he’d heard.
Movement from the corner of my eye. I followed it and jolted. The Guardian raced into the room, his royal robe stained and wet with crimson. He made it to the control panel just as I computed what I was seeing.
“No!” Jasher yelled, releasing me, intending to stop his leader from doing whatever he planned.
Before he’d taken his second step, the cyclone sucked both Jasher and me inside. We spun around and around without hitting the glass, gaining momentum until being catapulted out of the tube.
Dizziness overwhelmed me. I tried to grab Jasher only to lose sight of everything but whizzing lights. Even those blurred together and expanded…
Boom! In a burst, the beams swallowed me, and my world went dark.
CHAPTER 24
HOME AGAIN KINDA
Igroaned as consciousness returned little by little. I blinked open my eyes, aware of small aches and pangs throughout my body.
A voice penetrated my awareness. “—need help?”
I frowned as I focused. A concerned older woman wearing a retro red dress stood over me.
“What happened? Where am I?” I eased into a sitting position and examined my surroundings. The wedding chapel. Wait. Memories surged, and I gasped. The same wedding chapel I’d ridden into Hakeldama. Only different.
So much had changed. A flowery archway replaced the podium, and red and white bouquets hung from the end of every cushioned pew. Dark shag carpet covered the wood floor. The walls gleamed with a garden mural.
How much time had passed since my disappearance?
My armor was gone. My swords, too.
“This is Heavenly Heights Chapel,” the woman said. “Are you hurt? How’d you get inside? The door was locked when I came in to prepare for the wedding, yet here you both are.”
Both? Jasher! I scanned…yes! There he lay, sprawled out between two pews.
Ignoring the other woman, I scrambled to Jasher and gently tapped his cheek. He better be okay. “Jasher. Wake up. Please.”
He didn’t appear injured. Well, other than the drop of blood staining his clothing. At last he blinked open his eyes, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Moriah?” With a soft smile, he reached up to caress my cheek.
I nuzzled his hand and returned the smile with one of my own. “You’re in the otherworld. With me.”
“Otherworld?” he echoed, frowning.
“I called for help,” the woman continued. “A doctor should be here any moment.”
A doctor…and police? Not good. Jasher had no ID. “We got caught in the tornado, that’s all. We’re fine now. We’ll be going.”
“What tornado?” she asked, wrinkling her brow.
Okay, so, enough time had passed that the citizens had forgotten about the tornado altogether. How to explain the blood then? “I apologize for any trouble we’ve caused you, but we’re fine,” I repeated. “I promise.” I helped a confused Jasher stand and noticed the lack of a certain ring.
No! Had I lost it? Or absorbed it again? A potential travesty to unravel later. “We’re leaving. No reason to involve others, especially medical professionals or authorities.”
Tinman wobbled on his feet, so I wound an arm around his waist. “This is truly your world?” he asked as I led him toward the exit.
“Yes. And we’ll discuss what happened when we’re safe at my farm.”
We reached the door just as a woman with rollers in her dark hair entered. I recognized her and ricocheted backward as if I’d hit an invisible wall of shock. My mother. My very pregnant mother.
My eyes widened, and my jaw went slack. “You’re…you…”
Queen Sandrine “Sandra” Ori-Emet Shaker stopped to meet my gaze. A soft smile of welcome fell into a frown of confusion. “Hello. Do I know you?”
I drank in the twenty-something beauty. Flawless skin bloomed with health. Hazel eyes glittered with curiosity. Delicate, doll-like features. Elegance all but seeped from her pores. She wore a plain T-shirt that stretched over her rounded belly and baggy sweatpants. Flip-flops adorned her feet. It was as far from royal attire as one could get. And yet, there was no mistaking her heritage. Confidence kept her spine straight and her shoulders squared, her chin tilted just so. Things I hadn’t noted as a young child.
“Moriah. Princess,” Jasher said. “You’re staring at the woman.”
Right. Yes. Unsure what to say, to do, but afraid I might upset a delicate balance of time and space, I blurted, “Excuse us,” then rushed around her and out of the chapel. Where I headed, I didn’t know. Cars sped along the roars—I ground to a halt in the middle of the parking lot as the sights registered. What… why… what?