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)
By the time we step through the castle doors, my legs wobble with exhaustion. And yet a wide smile stretches across my face, listening to the peals of laughter inside. The great hall is much the same, with a water fountain in its center and a grand staircase at the far end. Notably empty are the pedestals where nymph sculptures used to sit.
Now mortal children streak through the vast space while pot-bellied goblins chase after them in what appears to be a game of tag, their awkward gait comical.
“See? They are fine,” Jarek announces, impatience in his voice. “You can go upstairs and—”
“Fates, Your Highness!” Dagny is the first to spot me.
I hold up my hands in surrender as she rushes toward me, bowing and bobbing like a clucking hen with each step, as only Dagny can do.
“You look like you’ve been to Azo’dem and back!” she blusters.
“I’m fine! Really.” But she’s not far off because last night was as close to hell as I can imagine.
“Can you believe what’s happened here?” She waves a hand around the space. “One minute it’s us and a lot of statues, and then the next thing we know, there’s all these creatures runnin’ around! Or flyin’, I suppose, ’cause some of them fly when they want to. It was terrifying at first, but they’re not so bad at all.” She glares at the wall of Cindrae behind us. “Most of them, anyway. Even the big—”
“The queen must rest now.” Jarek cuts off her rambling at the kneecaps—the seamstress is known to babble.
I spare him a glare, but it morphs into a frown. His complexion has turned ashen. “Jarek, you look—”
“I’m fine,” he growls.
“Go upstairs and rest.”
“Gladly.” His hand grips my elbow, his meaning clear. He won’t leave me alone with these nymphs for one second.
“We’ll get ya sorted right away, then, Your Highness.” Dagny wipes her hands on her apron. “Corrin! Corr—”
“I’m right behind you, ya daft fool.” The stern-faced lady’s maid glares at her with annoyance before turning her focus to me. “Your Highness.” Her chest heaves with a sigh. “I hope you don’t expect me to salvage that outfit.”
“At least I changed out of my dress.”
Her stony face breaks with a smile. “It is good to have you back. Will the king be along shortly?”
I don’t have to ask which king she means. She’s always been loyal to Zander. “Yes. I hope so.” I can’t blame him for leaving me and rushing out to reclaim his throne the second he had a chance. After all, he lost it because of me. But what will he find while he’s out there? A dead brother? A realm that has turned against him, no matter who his allies may be?
She claps her hands. “I’ve sent someone to draw your bath, and I’m sure you’re famished. Your meal will be ready by the time you’ve scrubbed yourself clean.”
Same old Corrin. “Settling in just fine, I see.” She ran the entire household in Cirilea’s castle, and it’s becoming clear she’s stepped into the role here.
“It is certainly a change.” Her suspicious gaze flitters to Oredai before dismissing him with a displeased sniff.
I introduce Agatha. “She is the Master Scribe from Mordain. She will be spending a lot of time in the library. Please help her settle in so she can rest.”
“Speaking of rest …” Jarek grits his teeth.
“Okay! I’m going!” He’s not usually this pushy.
Commotion stirs as Pan and Eden dash out from a hallway in hysterics, Gracen’s daughter Lilou in Eden’s arms. Right behind them is Mika, his curly mop of brown hair damp with sweat.
Pan’s feet falter. “Romy! You’re back!”
I grin. He’s the only one who calls me that.
“I do not have the energy for this.” Jarek sways on his feet.
Eden quickly searches out the legionary she sometimes shares a bed with. Her eyes light up with excitement when she finds him next to me.
But her face twists with shock in the next moment as he slumps to the marble floor.
I drop to my knees, my panic exploding as I seize his jaw. “He’s unconscious.” Or worse. His skin is gray and cold. I plead with my affinities to rise, but they will not come.
He is not long for this world.
“What?” I erupt, glaring up at the Cindrae leader. “What do you mean?”
He reeks of vrog toxin. It is leaching the life from his body. It may already be too late to heal now.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” My anger echoes through the grand space, suddenly quiet as bystanders wait.
Oredai smirks in response.
I recommended you order him to accept healing.
“You …” I grit my teeth. Now is not the time. “Get him upstairs with your best healers. And it better not be too late, for your sake.” I leave the unspoken threat dangling in the air.