Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
And when she saw the baby was indeed a boy and that her vision had come to life, she swore to protect this boy with all her might, and to never let the king find out about him. For if he did, she knew the wrath the king would take. A bastard son, born out of wedlock. It’d make him appear immoral and he’d kill the boy, or worse—punish him in some way for ever being born.
The woman kept the boy a secret for as long as she could, but as the boy grew, it became harder to keep him in hiding, for he was an adventurous child, stubborn, and she saw many of the king’s traits in him. Despite it, she promised she would raise the boy to have a tender heart, so that no matter what he went through, or how much he suffered, he would care for others in the same way he would want to be cared for. Because she knew it was coming…his suffering. She knew she couldn’t protect him forever, because there was one enemy who wanted to take her from him. And if he couldn’t keep him, neither could she.
This is the story my mother would tell me, and I was happy for the boy, never realizing he was me. And the Mythic who’d helped the woman—that was Manx.
For years, my mother said someone would come for us. She’d drive herself mad, pacing the cabin. She used to let me to stay with Manx every day until one day, my visits to him came to an abrupt stop and she told me to never speak to him again.
I realize now that it was Manx’s plan all along to bring me to life. He knew what I would be before I was even born—knew the power I possessed and wanted it to be his—so he convinced my mother to keep me and grew close with both of us until my mother figured out, he was Decius. That’s what all those late nights in the libraries were for, the pacing of the cabin, the handle of the dagger in her hands as she watched the door, waiting for an unknown enemy to attack.
I see that now as I stare into his eyes, and the cold wraps around me like snakes. Manx is not the compassionate man I thought he was. All this time, he’s been hunting me, pushing out anyone who cares about me, and waiting for his moment to strike. The realization is such a disappointment.
What good am I if I’m only here to be used by men like him and my father? Perhaps this is the better option, to let him take my body, my mind, and kill me. I’ll only be used time and time again…
But there’s Willow, and he cannot have her. Take my heart and rip it out of me, I don’t care, but my mate will not be his.
When I get out of this icy mental trap Decius has me in, he’s as good as dead.
Chapter 2
WILLOW
ALORA’S PALACE
I suck in breath after breath as Caz’s ice-cold body is brought back down to the floor. Everyone in the room is in an uproar, shouting with red faces and veins bulging from their necks. They’re in delirium.
My chest grows twice as heavy as I focus on Caz’s blue body again. He was fine only a minute ago. We were on Alora’s balcony after his trip to see The Council. He gave me a protection morsel from Manx to shield us from Decius, but somehow Decius has still gotten to him. This can’t be happening. We’re supposed to be safe now. The Council gave us a bubble and gave Caz their word that Decius wouldn’t be able to come after us, so how can this be? Mournwrath can’t be taking him.
Tears blind me when I realize I’ll lose him too, just as I’ve lost everyone else. Oh, God, if I lose him on top of everyone else, I don’t know what I’ll do. I won’t want to live anymore. I’ll beg Mournwrath to take me and make it quick so I can run off into whatever afterlife Caz awaits me in.
A pair of hands grips my shoulders, and my eyes snap up to find the person their connected to. It’s when I look up that I realize I’m hyperventilating. My breaths are sharp as they fill my lungs and work twice as hard to escape.
“Willow, breathe!” Caz’s aunt and one of his closest confidants, Maeve, wraps her hands around my upper arms as she gives me a light shake. “Breathe, my dear. Breathe.”
I’m trying, but I still can’t breathe. In fact, I think trying to calm down is only making it worse. It’s as if my body knows something’s not right and that my other half is in duress.