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)
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before. More than once, if I recall.” An arrogant smirk laces his tone.
My cheeks burn at the reminder. Twice—once in the river in Eldred Wood after escaping Cirilea when he very much still wanted me dead, and then in Fernwich, while he was fucking a mortal in a wagon beneath my window. “So glad you’re back to your old self.”
“I suggest you wash the beast blood off you before we leave.” Bare feet pad over the stone toward his bathing chamber. “Unless your plan is to frighten your way through Mordain.”
I shake my head as I stroll past Zorya, who watches him, her eye cast at waist level, unabashed. “I didn’t think that appealed to you.” I’d only ever seen her show interest in Gesine.
She offers no more than a lazy shrug.
“You are a queen now. You should dress the part,” Corrin chastises as she weaves the last braid in my hair. When she saw how I planned to go—with my hair flowing freely—she filled the doorway with her little body, hands on hips, effectively barring me from leaving. I’m desperate to get to the rift—to Zander—but I agreed to the braids if she could do it in under ten minutes.
“Ball gowns work even less with dragons than they do on horses.” I throw her a knowing smile. “Besides, I think this look fits a queen preparing for war.” I found a section of tunics and breeches in my closet, as well as a new, pristine brown leather-and-metal vest that hugs my body. If the nymphs put it in there, clearly they deem it acceptable attire for the Queen for All.
“I do not like all this talk of war.” Her face pinches with worry.
“And yet those are conversations we can’t avoid.” The only question is, who will we be fighting against? Possibly Mordain now, on top of everyone else.
A knock sounds, and Dagny and Gracen are ushered in, Gracen’s arms filled with a sleeping baby.
“Her Highness is a very busy person,” Corrin declares, her nimble fingers fastening the last braid. “She does not have time for frivolous things.”
“It’s okay, I asked them to come.” I ease out of the chair.
“My, doesn’t Her Highness look so regal!” Dagny exclaims, clapping her hands.
The tiny bundle in Gracen’s arms stirs with a sputter that quickly morphs into a wail, earning Gracen’s pained look and Corrin’s scowl.
“Fates, look what I’ve gone and done.” Dagny scoops Suri from Gracen’s arms without asking for permission and begins strolling and rocking and cooing. The baby quiets quickly.
Gracen’s shoulders sink with relief. She wears deep circles under her blue eyes, as if she hasn’t slept in days.
“How have things been here?” I ask, admiring the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Untamed blond curls frame her pretty face.
“Wonderful, in some ways. Between Eden and Pan and the nymphs, Mika and Lilou are entertained from morning until night, passing out from exhaustion before I can get them into their baths. It makes the long nights with Suri easier. I think she’s starting to teethe.”
“But you feel safe?”
“Oh, yes. The first night when they came, well, that was terrifying.” She laughs nervously. “But they like to play and so do my children.”
“Good. With all that’s happening out there, I’m glad you guys are in here. No Nulling beast is getting past those gates.”
“That’s good.” Yet she wears a worried expression. “Is there any news of what is happening in Cirilea? And elsewhere?”
“Zander left to learn what he could, but I haven’t had a chance to speak to him yet.” I know what she’s really asking, though. “He went to the east to look for Atticus. There was a large army waiting, one Atticus wasn’t prepared for and did not have enough men to fight.” In the last moments before Bexley abandoned her elven form for good, she warned that the only way Atticus would survive such a battle would be if someone found more value in him alive than dead, and he would not go willingly. I say as gently as I can, “I don’t know that you’ll see him again.”
“I understand.” Gracen blinks back tears. “I will remain hopeful.”
I’m sure she will. She’ll likely hold out hope for the rest of her days, keeping her life on pause while she waits for the improbable. But will Atticus even return to her, if he returns? She and her children have suffered so much at the hands of these elven. Will she suffer more, waiting for a day that will never come?
Gracen only ever saw one side of Atticus—the kind, caring version who saved her and her children from Lord Danthrin’s malice. I’m sure it was a dream—a mortal baker who sparked the interest of a king.
But there is—or was—a spiteful and arrogant side too. That side betrayed Zander twice. Not only did he steal the throne from him, but he would have stolen his bride had Princess Romeria not been scheming. And Atticus would have executed me.