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)
“Love. Milettahn, please.” He brushes gentle fingers over my cheeks, and I realize belatedly that they’re wet. I’m crying after all. “A child doesn’t change how I feel about you. You could shove a knife between my ribs and I would still look at you with adoration, because you’re my mate. We are not Ravendor and Azamenth.” He searches my gaze. “I never said I did not want children, Candra. Just that they are a complication.”
“What do you mean, a complication?”
Nemeth pauses, and then chuckles. “I think our story is complicated enough already, don’t you?”
He’s got a point. I manage a wobbly smile. “It’s certainly not getting any easier.”
He strokes his knuckles over my cheek again, wiping away my tears. The look on his face is incredibly tender. “How are you certain you have Fellian blood?”
“I asked the knife. I didn’t understand how I was pregnant, and I wondered if that was why. Maybe I have more Fellian in me than others in the Vestalin bloodline and that’s why I’m ‘cursed.’ Maybe the two bloods don’t get along.”
“Maybe you have magic,” Nemeth says softly. “Fellian magic.”
I snort at that. “I don’t even know how to answer that. There’s no way I have Fellian magic. If I did, I certainly wouldn’t have eaten cold turnips for half a year because I ran out of firewood.”
He’s not laughing with me, though. Nemeth looks very serious. “Just because you haven’t been taught doesn’t mean you don’t have magic in your blood. Every Fellian is born with it. If you have Fellian blood, perhaps you have Fellian magic, too.”
He honestly thinks I have magic? “How would I have magic?”
“There are ways to tell. Tests. Trials.” Nemeth looks gravely concerned. “A human with magic is what a Fellian fears most. It’s our edge against your rapaciousness and cruelty.”
By the gods, he’s making me sound like a monster. I’m stung. It’s not quite an accusation, but it’s close. “Then use your magic and give me one of these tests. I can show you that I don’t have any. If I did, do you think I’d take a potion daily that would make me feel like absolute garbage? Do you think I’d suffer through the illness that comes with a skipped dose? Or would I just wave a hand and cure myself?”
His hard mouth twitches. “That’s not how magic works.”
“How would I know?” I explode, indignant. “I’m a bloody human! Even if I had Fellian magic in my veins, who’s going to teach it to me? The humans at court couldn’t magic their way out of a goat pen.”
Nemeth rubs my arm. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m not saying you do. I’m just worried things are growing more complicated. If we have to go back to my people, I don’t want to give them cause to cast you out.” He pauses, and then adds, “I won’t let them cast you out.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, then.” I give him a mock-pout. “I shall be very cross if that happens.”
He laughs, his expression more like the Nemeth I know. “Cross, eh?”
“Excessively.” His smile eases some of my worry. “I am sorry, you know. It wasn’t as if I was trying to get pregnant. I’ve been told all my life it’s impossible. And yet here I am. I should be thrilled that I’m not barren, since that’s apparently supposed to be the worst thing ever for a Vestalin woman, and instead of being excited, I feel vaguely betrayed. Like everything I’ve been told is a lie.”
Nemeth rubs my arm again. “I understand.” His gaze strays to my stomach. “You’re certain?”
“The knife gave me a ‘yes’ answer so it must be true, right?”
“Aye, its magic wouldn’t let it lie to you.”
I tilt my head, studying him. Other than creating a spark of fire with a snap of his fingers, Nemeth hasn’t done a lot of magic in front of me. But he makes it sound like all Fellians are brimming with magic energy. “Do you have lots of magic yourself?”
“I should. Most Fellians are taught spells from the time they begin schooling into adulthood. But because of who I am, I wasn’t allowed to learn anything that wasn’t deemed essential.”
“Who you are?” I’m puzzled.
“The son of the First House bound for the tower. They worried anything I knew might be shared with humans. They would rather keep it secret than risk teaching me.” A bitter smile curves his mouth. “So I know less than most children.”
I rub his chest to offer sympathy. I know what it’s like to be coddled because of who—and what—you are. “What kind of magic were you allowed, then?”
“Small things. Fire spells, light spells, communication spells—”
“Communication spells?” I ask, my skin prickling with awareness. I’d forgotten that he was communicating back home. “Remind me what you’ve been communicating about again?”