Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Oh, I see how it is. Only want me when I don’t want you,” she said with a smile. “Story of my life.”
Kierse reached down and stroked the cat’s back. The tiny thing hissed, batting at her with one of its clawed paws and then bounding up the stacks to watch her from the top of the shelf.
“We’ll be friends, you and I,” Kierse declared.
Isolde found her among the stacks at one point later when she was trying to coax the cat back out.
“Oh, I see you met Anne,” she said, holding a little brown book and a plate with a grilled cheese sandwich.
“Anne,” Kierse said. “So that’s your name.”
Anne retreated a few more steps.
Isolde just chuckled before setting the food down. She offered Kierse the book. “The master said to give this to you when you finished training. He’ll expect you to read it before dinner.”
She eyed the thing apprehensively.
“All right. I’ll do my best.” She sat down with the sandwich in hand and thumbed through the pages until she found a story that caught her interest.
It was about a redheaded child who had been waylaid by a will-o-the-wisp. She’d seen the blue light flickering in her awareness and followed it, unaware, into the woods, away from her parents. The girl had to get through a series of tests to prove her mettle, including getting past an evil witch and outwitting a warlock. Kierse had flipped through all the trials of the girl, anxious to see her happy return to her family.
But the redheaded girl never made it home. The will-o-the-wisp kept dragging her deeper and deeper into the forest until she came upon a bear and it consumed her. What was the moral of that story? That no matter how much you try, you can’t escape your fate? That the temptation that led you off your course will also lead you to your death? Beware!
But there must be something to this, or else why would he suggest she read it?
Anne jumped up, and Kierse followed the cat’s golden gaze as she folded into the space beside her.
All the tales and legends come from a kernel of truth. That was what Graves had said. Could these tales also have a kernel of truth? Did he want her to reflect on the moral story of wandering off her path? Or was it about the being-consumed-by-a-monster part? She was already well aware she was off her path and ready to be consumed.
Still, she had enjoyed the volume and finished with plenty of time to get ready for dinner.
At quarter to eight, she returned to her rooms to get ready for dinner, anticipating another nice, long shower. But she was shocked as she stepped into the room to find the closet bursting with new apparel—ball gowns, business attire, cocktail dresses, club wear, a dozen pairs of pants and T-shirts, workout clothes, sports bras, sleeping clothes, and even little lacy unmentionables. Kierse quickly closed that drawer. She seemed as likely to wear those scraps of fabric as the ball gown.
After a luxurious shower, a blowout from the fanciest blow dryer she had ever seen that made her long, dark hair shine and fall in waves over her shoulders, and even a collection of makeup that Isolde must have picked up as well—the woman thought of everything—Kierse felt like a whole new person.
She slid a black cocktail dress on. The material was formfitting, hugging her like a glove to her knees. It wasn’t what she’d normally go with, but somehow it was better. Money, probably. The quality was top-notch. Then she grabbed a pair of heels off of a rack and looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Her wren necklace was on full display with the plunging neckline of the dress.
This was good enough. It was just dinner. A business dinner at that. It wasn’t a date. There was nothing at all to be nervous about. It had nothing to do with her intimacy issues. And how she hadn’t had dinner with anyone since Torra and had decided wooing just wasn’t for her. The physical stuff, she could get behind. After all, sex was just sex. It was the other stuff that was too hard.
Now her palms were sweating. Which was ridiculous.
This wasn’t even that kind of dinner. Yes, she found Graves attractive. She’d have to be blind not to see how hot he was. But besides the fact that mixing business with pleasure was a bad idea, it just wasn’t even that kind of dinner. Why did her body have to react like this? She could face down Declan with a gun pointed at her chest without blinking. Yet, this unnerved her?
She straightened her spine and let the anger carry her downstairs. She made it to the dining room and found Edgar waiting at the entrance.