Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Calix nods, bows, and backs out of the bedroom. We hear the door to the suite open and close.
Amell strides to his closet and quickly dresses. He starts for the door and halts, turning my way. He’s forgotten about me, and it pinches a little.
It’s clear I’m only an afterthought when he says, “You can head to the kitchens, Nyssa.”
I nod. “Of course.”
I get a brief but distracted smile, and he’s gone.
Flopping onto my back, I release a long sigh and take stock of my feelings. I shouldn’t be so hurt to be dismissed so easily. I learned long ago to keep my expectations low with other people, and I need to remember to do the same with Amell.
I must learn to accept what I’m given because anything more than the Crimson River is a gift.
And I need to be satisfied that Amell has agreed to let Will go. It might not happen today or even tomorrow, but I vow I won’t let him forget his promise.
I bathe and dress in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt—again, another nice thing Amell did for me. I tie my hair up into a ponytail and head toward the kitchens.
The castle’s main hall bustles as normal with Dark Fae. Some stand around talking while others walk to a particular destination. I’ve learned not to be startled by fae blinking in and out as they bend distance to travel.
I’ve become confident enough to walk with my head up rather than ducked down, trying to avoid notice. I’ve been given a wide berth since Amell threw that incubus into the river.
So I’m a bit shocked when I hear a female voice demand, “Human… come here.”
I turn, searching the crowd. I’m not the only human who works in the castle, so the command might not be for me.
But then I see her, and I know it’s me.
Truett’s sister, Sorcha, is twenty feet away, crooking her finger.
She’s incredibly beautiful, same as Truett. It doesn’t matter that her skin is blue or her hair almost white, she’s still stunning. She wears what looks to be camel-colored leather pants with boots, and a coat with long tails. It’s unbuttoned, and the shirt under is tight across an ample bosom and cut low to show cleavage. Her platinum hair is plaited away from her face but falls in long waves over her shoulders and down her back.
I glance around, though I’m not sure for what. I have no clue if I have to obey her. I think not, but I don’t know if she’d do something if I refuse to go to her.
“Human,” she bellows, and several fae stop to watch. “Don’t make me come get you.”
Anxiety presses hard on my chest and my legs feel heavy as I walk her way.
Sorcha’s eyes roam over me critically, and her upper lip curls in disgust the closer I get.
I stop a few arms’ lengths away for safety, although I know with her super strength and speed, she could lunge and snap my neck in a nanosecond.
“So, you’re Amell’s new plaything,” she sneers. “I don’t see the appeal.”
Something tells me to cower and act subservient, but I do the opposite. “You don’t need to see the appeal. You only need to know that Amell sees it.”
I stare in wonder as Sorcha’s face purples with anger, blood rushing to her cheeks mixing with the blue pigment of her skin. Basic color science.
Her lips peel back and she snarls, “How dare such a lowly human speak so disrespectfully to a noble Dark Fae.”
“If I’m so lowly, how come you’re so bent out of shape about what I say? I should be beneath your ire.”
Sorcha moves so fast, she’s a blur, but in the blink of an eye, she’s toe to toe with me, her hand wrapped around my throat. She squeezes, not hard enough to snap my spine but with enough force I can’t breathe.
At all.
I kick and flail, the lack of oxygen freaking me out, even though it’s only been a few seconds.
“Let her go.” A blue hand clamps around Sorcha’s forearm and grips so hard, she’s forced to release me.
It’s so sudden, I stumble and fall to my ass. I scramble backward and look up to see Truett holding Sorcha’s arm as she tries to jerk away from him.
“Get off me, Truett,” she snarls, launching a roundhouse punch with her free arm that lands on his jaw.
His head barely rocks, and he ensnares her free hand. “Are you fucking crazy?” he hisses. “Do you know what the penalty is for touching her?”
Sorcha turns hateful eyes toward me. “She’s not even worthy to grace these halls. Let me take her to the river right now and be done with it.”
“And Amell will be tossing you in right behind her,” Truett growls.
“He’d never,” she says. She sounds so confident, I believe her.