Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
The knife is still.
I give Nemeth a smug look. “See? The knife wants you to fly too.”
His expression remains grave. “Ask it if the weather is because of the goddess. If she’s angry.”
I bite my lip, because I hate the big questions. I’m never ready for the answers. I hold the knife, squeezing my eyes shut. “Is the goddess angry at us?”
Cringing, I wait for the knife to shudder. It does nothing.
I gasp and look over at Nemeth, delighted. “That’s a no, right?”
“It’s not a yes. That’s all.” He still looks pensive, his mouth hard. “I don’t understand. We disobeyed. Shouldn’t the goddess be furious at us?”
But I’m giddy, my heart fluttering with relief. “I’ll change the wording, then.” I concentrate on the knife. “Is the goddess angry?”
Shiver. Yes.
My stomach plummets again. “The goddess is angry, but not at us?”
Again, a shiver of affirmation.
I look over at Nemeth. “She’s angry all right. Maybe she’s furious that they forgot us and we were forced to leave?”
He doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know. I don’t have the answers for any of this.”
Me either. I think for a moment longer, then ask, “Does anyone know we’ve left the tower?”
No shiver.
I suppose that’s a good thing. “Will we get to Lios in under seven days at the rate we’re traveling?”
No shiver.
Oh. I fight back panic, because there’s no sense in it. We knew I was low on medicine. I look over at Nemeth. “I guess we need to speed up.”
My mate nods. He gets to his feet and shakes his wings out. “I don’t mind walking in the rain.”
Me either. I need to walk for as long as I can, for as far as I can, and then hope that Nemeth can carry me. “Once the hail stops, we can go.”
It’s a miserable journey. My face is hot with sunburn and hurts despite the constant rain, as do my hands and my scalp. Even the wet weather isn’t all that soothing, as it soaks our clothes and turns the road into mud. I scrub at my dress as we walk, trying to get the worst of the cum stains out using the rain. I suppose that the good news is that when it dries, it’ll be so wrinkled and unsightly that no one will notice a few stains.
The land around us remains flat and rocky, with only a few scrubby bushes and very few trees to break up the landscape. It’s rather unpleasant, but there are distant hills that hint at a change in scenery, at least.
“Does any of this look familiar to you?” Nemeth asks me.
I shake my head. “I was too miserable to pay attention to the scenery when I was brought here,” I admit. “I vaguely recall following the coast and driving through a few little towns along the way.”
“Well, we’re following the coast,” Nemeth agrees, gesturing at the horizon to the east, where just out of sight, the waters of the sea gleam invitingly.
“Perhaps a boat?” I ask. “To speed up our travel?” I’m all too aware that the knife says we won’t get to the castle in time. We need a way to speed up somehow, to walk faster…something. Anything.
“Do you know how to sail?” Nemeth asks me.
“Well…no. Do you?”
His brows go up. “Candra…my people live inside a mountain.”
“Is that a no, then?” I joke.
He stares at me, and then his big shoulders shake with laughter. A chuckle rumbles out of him, and the heavy pack on his back jostles with the force of his laughter. I smile as I walk at his side, pleased that out of everything, I can still make him laugh. “It’s not as if we’re knee-deep in boats anyhow,” I admit. “I’m just trying to think of alternatives to walking.”
“We will figure something out,” he promises me.
After a soggy midday meal, the rain finally eases off. My clothing begins to dry and my fingers no longer resemble dried prunes. The sun comes out, and the temperature immediately changes from cool and pleasant (if wet) to steamy and overly warm.
Doesn’t matter. It’s clear and that’s all that matters. When I spot a large boulder by the roadside, I immediately head for it, climbing atop a few smaller rocks and then sitting down atop it with my damp skirts spread.
“Time for a rest?” Nemeth asks. “I can carry you if you’re too tired to keep going.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, because I’m tired as shite and want nothing more than to crawl back to that tumbledown shed, moldy hay and all. But I give Nemeth a bright smile and gesture at his pack. “You can take that off for now, since you’re going to try flying.”
“I am?” He arches a heavy brow at me.
“You are,” I say firmly. “You’ll never know unless you try.”
He doesn’t look eager, though. “I could spare myself the humiliation and ask your blade if I can fly.”