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 suppose that wouldn’t be too hard to piece together.” Still, some praise should be granted to Wendeline—and perhaps Romeria, for managing it. “What else?”
“You waited a long time to reconnect with your husband. I am not sure you expected this result.”
“That my beloved Elijah would be trapped, sharing a body with Malachi himself, you mean?” A hint of bitterness laces my tone.
Wendeline’s gaze travels upward tentatively, as if afraid I might turn her to stone with a single glance. “This must be difficult for you.”
My responding laugh is mirthless. “Do not play sympathetic to me. I know where your allegiances lie.” With a heavy sigh, I ask, “What does your guild know of fates who walk this plane in flesh and blood?”
“I am not the right person to ask, truly. I never spent much time with the scribes and had little familiarity with prophecy before I was contacted by someone far more skilled and knowledgeable of it. If there is any insight, she will be the one who can provide it.”
“Her name?”
“Gesine. She was with Romeria, the last I heard.”
“Do you have any way to reach her?”
She shakes her head. “Not anymore, I’m afraid. Those who helped me carry messages have all abandoned Cirilea with the outgoing ships.”
The sanctum’s doors swing open.
My body stiffens as Malachi strolls in, pausing a moment to admire the statue of himself on the dais.
“Proper devotion. That is what I like to see.” He closes the distance to me with quick strides. “There you are. I left you with a quill and paper for a moment and when I returned, you were gone.”
I smile while my rage simmers. For a moment, my ass. After releasing Elijah briefly last night—just long enough to prove he was still in there—Malachi had me record his words in a letter and then left me with orders to pen duplicates and spirit them to kings and queens and lords and ladies of Islor and nearby realms with the help of the castle fancier and my affinities.
I haven’t seen him since.
“The letters went out at first light.”
“You must have given those messenger birds’ wings something extra. I’ve been visited by a nosy kell for a neighboring realm.”
“You wished for a swift delivery.”
“And what might my love be doing here?”
He plays at easygoing, but I have spent enough time with him to know it is all a ruse. He may turn as quickly and fiercely as a storm at sea. “I thought I would heal my fellow caster.”
He hums, sizing up Wendeline, who bows deeply and murmurs, “Your Highness.” But I sense her body turning rigid with fear.
“Come. I have need of you now.” The demand is soft, but it is a demand, nonetheless.
And while he calls me his queen, I am not foolish enough to believe I am anything more than his servant.
“Thank you for the kind gift of healing, Your Highness.” Wendeline dips her head. “If only I should be able to return the favor one day, though I fear I will be of little use to you.”
“If ever a need, I know where to come.” It’s as much a threat as a promise.
Malachi snaps his fingers and barks, “Now, Sofie.”
“Do you remember the wisteria that climbed the stone walls in our place in Belgium?” I ask as we walk the crumbled path in the garden. “It lives still, even after all these years.”
“Hmm?” Malachi frowns, then dismisses my wistfulness, his focus ahead.
I expected as much. I’m not reminiscing for his benefit. Elijah would tend to it daily in the warmer months, pruning and training the clambering vines.
If Elijah must be held hostage in his own body, the least I can do is remind him that I know he is still in there.
The nymphaeum comes into view, a solemn rectangular stone surrounded by pillars and trees, skirted by an altar.
“Send us through again,” Malachi commands, sliding his hand into mine.
“Back to the Nulling’s entrance? Why?”
“You question me, loyal servant?” The edge in his tone is unmistakable, and when his fingers clamp over mine and squeeze, I know I walk a precarious line.
“Of course not, my love.” Pushing aside my trepidation, I channel into the stone and take us through.
And gasp.
Once a vacant cave that we passed through on our journey to Cirilea, the space is now crammed with a horde of beasts.
Malachi grins with satisfaction. “Behold my army.”
“You have brought demons to this world.”
“No, I have brought Saur’goth soldiers. My own creation and utterly devoted to me. Marvelous warriors. They do not tire, they do not stop. They are beautiful creatures. I have been gathering them for centuries.”
I fight the urge to cringe as I peer up at their bloodred irises and barbed horns. In no eyes could these things be admired for their beauty. They remind me of the demon Malachi unleashed on Romeria’s father all those years ago, in a dark parking lot one cold winter’s night. The male elemental caster tipped over the brink of madness after that, succumbing to the change. All a part of Malachi’s calculated plan, I realized later.