Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
A male was shouting now, and in Kane’s delirium, he thought for a moment it was he himself. But no, someone else was in the doorway, and they were drawing the mahmen back, turning her face into his shoulder.
Cordelhia’s brother shifted their mahmen out of view, and then he came in and grabbed Kane, dragging him off the floor. The blows came from every direction, pummeling his head and chest, and then he was thrust across the room. His lack of coordination meant that the momentum carried him onward, his weight pitching headfirst, his feet failing to keep up. His shellan’s dressing bureau stopped him, and he caught his reflection in the mirror stand for a split second before the impact of his body wiped everything off its surface.
Crashing, now, but the sound was distilled through the cotton wool that his head felt packed in.
“You killed her!”
Kane was yanked back to his feet. And as he looked to the bed, he couldn’t breathe. The blood… was everywhere.
“Cordelhia—”
Her brother’s face thrust into his own. “Do not ever utter her name again. Ever!”
The slap came from the right, and the contact of the hard palm on his face was so violent, he spun around, or mayhap the room was spinning, he did not know. As his balance left him, he hit the wall across from the bed, the oil painting of his female’s favorite wee terrier falling from its mount.
Kane’s knees went out from under him and he sank down to the floor. “I did not kill her! It was not me!”
Cordelhia’s brother snatched something off the needlepoint rug, and as the male lunged forward, the sterling silver blade of the envelope opener caught the lantern light, flashing with a wink.
Kane rolled onto his back and presented the front of his throat. “Kill me! Kill me now! I do not want to live without her—”
The words stopped the other male, and there was a moment of suspended time. Then his female’s brother fell to his knees. He was panting, his chest pumping beneath his finely tailored clothing, his flushed face a horrible facsimile of what it normally appeared to be.
The letter opener trembled in his hand. But it steadied as he raised the tiny sword over his shoulder, the arc of its sharp point angled so that it would pierce Kane through the center of the chest.
“Kill me,” Kane moaned as he tore his shirt asunder. “Kill—”
“No!” Abruptly, the other male leaned forward and made a fist. “No! You will live with what you have done, Kanemille, son of Ulyss the Elder.”
Her brother slashed his arm down and the blow to the head finished what the delirium had started. Kane lost consciousness, his final awareness the scent of his tears mingling with the copper bloom of her blood and the…
* * *
… smell of the earth.
No, that couldn’t be right.
Firstly, he surely must be dead, so why would he be smelling aught? And secondly, if he were alive, he would be at his home, so why would he be smelling dirt if he were in Cordelhia’s bedding chamber?
And there were other things in the air: A wretched rotting stink. Mold. Old fabric. His own blood. Verily, he was no longer at his estate.
Unable to assess his surroundings, he performed an accounting of himself: His mind remained sluggish, his hearing was phasing in and out, and his eyes refused to open. Farther down, his belly was both sour and empty, but he could not worry about that—
“Aye, yer in rough shape.”
The voice was close by, and as the words registered, he was unsure who was talking. He had a thought he should lift his lids, but his head was pounding and his face felt swollen—therefore, he did not believe it was possible.
“I beg your pardon?” he mumbled.
“Ah, so yer a posh one. I fig’d by the looks of yer—and who dropped yer off.” There was a shuffling, as if someone was moving around on packed earth. “Yer’ll be needin’ to take cover, gov’ner.”
With sloppy thoughts, he attempted to remember what had happened after Cordelhia’s brother had struck him that last time. He had the sense that there had been a passage of hours. Perhaps even a day and night cycle.
“Where am I?” he asked.
When there was no answer, he tried again to open his eyes. And when he was unable, he had a thought that he would lift up one of his hands—but alas, his arms did not seem to be of function.
“Yer in the prison camp. Yer were dropped here at dawn yest. Yer cannae stay here. There be people yer needing to stay away from.”
Prison camp? Wherever was that?
“Yer best be moving, gov’ner. Yer caught here, they’ll be takin’ yer to the Hive. Yer be an exemplification.”
He had to get out of here, Kane thought. He had to find whoe’er was in charge, and explain his situation, and tell whoe’er would release him that he was being held under false pretenses. Then surely they would return him unto his freedom and he could set about speaking properly with Cordelhia’s bloodline. After all, he had a funeral to prepare, and there were doggen and servants to settle.