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)
They, too, are empty, though there’s a foul smell here. It’s a smell of something dead, and I cover my nose with my wet sleeve even as Nemeth strides towards the root cellar. He opens the hatch and peers inside, then shakes his head. “Two bodies, and they’ve been there a long time. You don’t want to look.”
I swallow hard. “My sister always said the cook would defend her kitchen into death. I guess that’s true.” I think of my sister—and of Riza and Nurse—and I desperately hate that my knife is gone. I want to ask if they’re all right. I want to ask if they’re alive. I hate that I squandered the opportunity back when I had my knife, simply because I hated knowing the answers.
Not knowing is so much worse.
“I need to go upstairs,” I tell Nemeth, feeling faint. “I want to see my sister’s quarters. My quarters.”
“Are you all right?” He gestures to the door, to the horse we left outside. “Should I get our packs—”
I shake my head, trembling. I’m not all right. Not by a long shot, but I still need to know. “I just need to see.” Because if I see Riza or Nurse’s dead body in my rooms, I might lose my fragile hold on sanity. It’s one thing to know that the goddess will be unhappy if we leave the tower. It’s another to see the realization of it and know we’re to blame to some extent.
Nemeth moves to my side, and I think at first that he’s going to stop me, or force me to sit down and rest. Instead, he snags me under the arms and flares his wings outward. He flies out of the great hall and down another corridor of the massive, empty palace. His flight isn’t even and I can tell he strains, but we’re in the air and soaring through the empty halls. I point out directions. To turn that way, to go up that flight of stairs. To head down another hall.
And then I see the double doors that used to be mine. One is smashed, as if kicked in, the gilt design on the wood smeared with mud and broken away. A terrified sound escapes my throat.
Nemeth sets me down on the floor. Even here, there are discarded pieces of armor and torn fabrics. Shattered furniture and pieces of wood are everywhere, as if someone hacked the beautiful palace apart. The carpet under my feet that runs down the long hall is dark with stains, and I remember its bright red color. It’s been destroyed, just like everything else. Even the ceiling—once dotted with beautiful stained glass—is now broken and rain drips down from above, as if the world around us is crying.
It feels appropriate.
I take a few steps towards my apartments, and then I’m running at a frantic speed, ignoring the squish of the wet carpets under my near-destroyed shoes. I want to go inside and see that this portion of my world hasn’t changed. I want to see my bed with its beautiful draperies and elegant pillows. I want to see the thick rugs and the cozy chairs I have near the fire. I want to see my trunks and dressers full of my gowns. Here, there should be something, shouldn’t there?
So I burst through the doors and skid to a halt, drinking in the sight of my once-bedroom.
It’s worse here than below. There’s a hole in the ceiling, the beams collapsed, and the rain floods in directly over my bed. The canopies are collapsed and ripped, and my mattress has been torn apart and shredded, the innards cast across the flooring and soaked. Every chest is opened, the contents destroyed. The chairs near the fire are gone; one is broken, and there’s a familiar-looking charred chair leg hanging out of the hearth that tells me the other was probably burned. All my beautiful things are destroyed, and there’s no trace of me here, nothing left that speaks of my old life.
Beyond numb, I race back out of the room and down the hall, towards Erynne’s rooms. I know she won’t be there. I know there won’t be anyone there, but I still have to see it for myself. I have to know.
The doors here have fallen from their hinges, blocking the way into the room. I rip one away, tossing it aside. The interior of Erynne’s room is just as wrecked as mine, the colorful glass in the big window broken and shattered, rain pouring inside. Ripped fabric is soaked and covered in mold, and the large imperial bed looks as if it was destroyed with an axe or three. I turn, looking for signs of my sister. Yes, she has betrayed me. Yes, she thinks of the kingdom before me.