Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
I blush under his gaze. “I cannot bear yours either.”
“Who knows, with this latest development. Maybe that has changed too. I wouldn’t mind trying.” He winks.
I ignore his overt flirting. This is the Tyree I know, and it means nothing. He’ll kill me in the next breath if it serves his purpose. “Udrel’s throne will be mine when King Hadkiel passes on in, what, twenty years.” A blink of an eye.
All humor fades from his face. “You are actually serious.”
“Yes. I can’t think of a good reason to go.”
He seems to ponder this. “I will not force you—”
“Really? Not like in Cirilea?” I quip.
His jaw tenses. “I did not have a choice. Plus, you stabbed me.”
“So … we’re even?”
The corner of his mouth quirks. “I will not force you, but I will not stay.”
A prick of unexpected disappointment catches me off guard. “That’s probably for the best. You would make a lousy defender.”
He smirks. “So, this is where our journey must end, Princess Annika of Islor, soon to be Queen Annika of Udrel. Or is it Queen Kal’ana?” He hesitates and then leans in and presses a kiss against my temple, the bristle on his jaw scratching my skin. “You will always be Annika, a royal pain in my arse.”
“Goodbye, mongrel.” I inhale the scent of him one last time, relishing the feel of his lips far too much.
“You don’t need this, do you?” He holds up my horsehair brush.
“No, but do you?” Maybe that’s the secret to his lush locks.
Shoving it into his cloak’s pocket, he marches toward the window and throws his legs over the ledge. “Enjoy your new kingdom.” He salutes me and then vanishes.
What in fates … I rush to the window. There is nothing out there but darkness and … I reach down past the windowsill and my fingers run over moss.
34
Zander
“Fates.”
The great city of Lyndel smolders, countless plumes of black smoke marking the buildings that still blaze.
This is why the dragons arrived in Argon to collect us.
Plans changed quickly. Romeria shuttled Lucretia through the nymph stone door with the Ring of Minerva to secure in the crypt and Neilina’s journal to give to Agatha, and then we ran to meet the three agitated beasts that filled the castle courtyard. No sooner had we stepped out the doors than they snatched us in their claws and took off across Ybaris, their wings stirring gusts of wind that toppled over guards, their screeches sending citizens scurrying for cover.
I assumed something terrible had happened at the rift.
This? This is far worse.
“Fly in closer!” I shout.
Valk dives, the other two dragons following at his flanks, to give us a better glimpse of the city’s destruction, and the scores of bodies that lie in the streets—both guards and civilians. Swarms of two-legged creatures rush along the parapet like ants for the ballistae that Lyndel always has at the ready.
What manner of armor-clad beasts are these? I have never seen them before. They certainly aren’t the typical brainless things that crawl out of the Nulling, if they managed to infiltrate a fortified city.
“There are people down there!” Romeria shouts, pointing to huddles of women and children, corralled in the main square, in alleys, and along the inside of the wall, kept in place with swords.
Hostages. Another tactical move that typical beasts don’t do.
A streak of green catches the corner of my eye. Xiaric, flying in far too close to the wall.
With a loud crack, an arrow fires into the sky. Valk swerves and narrowly avoids it.
“Pull back!” I roar as three more ballistae sound, launching their arrows.
A pained screech rings in my eardrum.
Xiaric struggles to regain control below us, his one wing pumping uselessly as he spirals toward the ground, his other impaled with a bolt and hanging limp at his side.
Valk banks hard and plunges to position himself beneath the smaller dragon. His body jolts as he bears the brunt of impact, changing the momentum of Xiaric’s fall. We careen toward safety outside the range of Lyndel’s weapons. My stomach has moved to my throat—Valk is flying too fast for a safe landing, and Abarrane and I are completely at his mercy.
He releases us in midair. I brace myself as I plummet before tucking and tumbling to my feet.
The ground shudders as Valk hits it. Unable to control his momentum, Xiaric skids through the grass and dirt before coming to a rest near a group of soldiers who have scattered.
Abarrane and I share a look of flustered relief a split second before Xiaric releases another agonized cry.
This one is answered with a screech that rattles my insides and turns my blood cold.
We watch in horror as Caindra swings around and aims for the city wall, deftly maneuvering her body as bolts fly.
“Romeria!” I roar, my panic surging.
Caindra’s maw opens and a stream of flames spew as she coasts past, blasting the length of the rampart.