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)
An uneasy look crosses his face. “Candra…get dressed.” He sits upright, his wings sliding off of our naked bodies, and then he untangles himself from the bed, dumping me on the far side of the mattress. A moment later, he melts into the shadows, disappearing.
Just like that, I’m alone.
“Dragon shite—you do not get to end a conversation like that!” I pound a fist on the mattress. “Come back here, Nemeth!”
He doesn’t come back, though. There’s no one in the hut but me. I’m so annoyed with him that I jerk to my feet, grabbing at my wet chemise that’s spread out on the nearby table. The moment I stand, though, darkness creeps in at the edges of my gaze. My stomach turns and my skin gets clammy. Oh no. This has happened before—when my dose is wrong for my medicine, or I take it and I haven’t eaten enough.
Dragon shite. I’m going to faint.
The realization hits me a moment before I go completely under.
I wake up some time later to my ass on the cold floor, a blanket tossed over me, and the sounds of eating.
Disoriented, I open my eyes and roll over to look at Nemeth, who must be ravenously devouring a meal—only to find that it’s not Nemeth at all. Two strangers stand with their backs to me, eating what is left of our foodstuffs spread out on the table. I glance around the cottage quickly, but I don’t see Nemeth. The front door hangs open, and one of the pretty window shutters has been destroyed, likely from an axe. Our drying clothes have been scattered about the cottage, no doubt tossed aside when the thieves entered.
And I’m only wearing a blanket.
I clutch it to myself tighter, bewildered, as I sit up. Dizziness assails me again, along with nausea. I have to lie back down, or else I’m going to pass out again. “Water…please.”
The men turn around. I wonder if they’re going to kill me, but right now I’m feeling so lousy I might welcome a quick death. I groan as another wave of nausea hits, and to my surprise, someone lifts my head and puts a cup to my lips. “Here. Drink slowly.”
Taking small sips, I’m relieved that it helps the nausea disappear. I continue to drink, and as I do, I watch the men. Both of them are of an indeterminate age, their faces unshaven and dirty. They’re incredibly thin, and their clothing is ragged and faded. One is wearing a torn cloak that has the symbol of Castle Lios’s guards, but perhaps they stole it, like they’re currently stealing the last of our food.
I don’t see Nemeth anywhere. Has he abandoned me?
He wouldn’t. He loves me. Something must have happened. Worry makes my nausea flare again, and I swallow hard.
“Can you sit up?” one of the men asks, a concerned look on his face. They’re being decent despite the fact that they just ate the last of our food. They even covered me in a blanket.
I manage to nod and struggle to sit upright. “Who…are you?”
“Might ask the same question of you,” one of the men says, licking crumbs off his fingers.
The answer is an obvious one. “I was looking for food. My supplies are almost gone.” I eye the table, where nothing remains. “Are gone.”
He glances at the doorway, and I’m dismayed when a third man joins them. The newcomer looks just as thin and unkempt as the others, but this one watches me with a burning gaze, as if he could stare holes through the blanket covering my nudity. He’s got a long blond beard with two braids in the scraggly ends, and he strokes those braids as he sits down in one of the chairs, his muddy boots tracking all over the floors. “No one else.”
All three men focus on me again, their gazes skeptical and wary. “You’re here alone?” one asks.
The implication in the man’s tone is obvious. What’s a weak, soft thing like you doing here alone? I don’t want to tell them about Nemeth, so I decide to edge close to the truth again. “I had a companion with me, but…I think he left. Abandoned me when I got sick from hunger.”
The first man grunts, satisfied. “Happens a lot nowadays.”
“Even to a princess?” says the one with the braided beard.
I stiffen, clutching the blanket tight. The other men eye me speculatively. “I didn’t say I was a princess.”
He gestures at my hair. “You got the dark hair and the green eyes like the queen.”
What do I say to that? I lick my lips, silent. “My name is Candra,” I finally say, since I can’t seem to get the upper hand. “You’re right.”
He narrows his gaze at me. “You the one that’s supposed to be in the tower?”
The room feels positively chilly, their stares blistering. That tells me everything I need to know. “Nope,” I say brightly. “I’m the sick one. You’ll find my vials of medicine on the table there. Meryliese is the one that’s in the tower even now.”