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)
I reach up and stroke his horns, because I know they’re sensitive. It’s the touch of a lover, one that I hope distracts him a little from the worries he carries. “I love you, Nemeth. We’re a team. And if it takes me wearing a collar in order to talk to your brothers, then that is what I shall do. It’s a trinket. It means nothing to me.”
Nemeth doesn’t look reassured, though. If anything, he looks more worried.
Chapter
Seventy-Six
The king calls for Nemeth the next day…and for him to bring me.
The missive comes to Nemeth’s door, delivered in an ornate parchment sealed with wax. I watch over the ledge as Nemeth takes the note from the small box by the door and frowns deeply as he reads it. “Ivornath,” he growls. “I should have known.”
“Is this bad?” I ask. “Didn’t you see Ivornath yesterday?”
He shakes his head. “I visited Ajaxi. Ivornath refused to see me.”
Well that makes me nervous. Still, I’d wanted to see Ivornath, hadn’t I? This is my chance. I’m good at court games, at wheedling and ingratiating myself. At flirting and making someone feel appreciated. I’m confident I can handle Ivornath. A little flattery, a little awe tossed his way, and then when he sees I’m nothing to be frightened of, we pitch for my sister’s freedom, along with Riza and everyone else.
He just needs a bit of ass-kissing, I suspect. Even Lionel wasn’t immune when I turned on the charm.
I can handle this. Nemeth might be his brother, but he’s said before that he’s not a diplomat. “Perfect,” I tell Nemeth. “Show me what we have to wear.”
A few hours later, my hair is pulled back into an elaborate rope braid decked with golden chains and anchored over one shoulder, my eyes rimmed with a bit of green cosmetic to show off their color. My bruises are covered with a pale powder, and my new dress is courtesy of the trunk of clothing (along with the cosmetics) that were brought in by Fellian servants.
It’s proof that Nemeth has some pull around here, at least, no matter what he thinks.
The Fellian clothing for women is a little different than what I’m used to. There are no tight decorative sleeves, no ornate belts to show off the curve of the hips. Instead, the dress is a sack of glossy, flowing material with a square neck and no sleeves. Instead, there are two thin ties that can be fastened over the neck, leaving the back bare for wings. A quick look in the mirror shows me that I look short and dumpy in the long dress. It’s not a flattering look, but it hides my belly well thanks to my large breasts. It’s not a very warm outfit for the cold under-mountain, more proof that Fellians run hotter than humans. Luckily for me, Nemeth takes pity on my shivering and gives me a thick, woolly wrap for my shoulders that is covered with his family symbol.
A thick plain metal collar is fastened around my neck, and I decide I hate it.
Nemeth is dressed finely, too. I’m struck again how handsome he is. He puts on a jewel breastplate of hammered metal, the sigil of the First House displayed across the front and held onto his shoulders and waist by straps of thick leather so as to avoid his wings. His kilt is heavily gilded as well, and a heavy ceremonial hammer is hung at his waist—the ancient symbol of the First House and the symbol of the weapon Ravendor Vestalin used to smite her Fellian husband.
I decide I hate it, too.
“Are you ready?” Nemeth asks me, taking my hand in his. He turns my palm over, rubbing his thumb over the bite mark. “Say the word, and I will leave you here. We will tell them you feel unwell. That you ate something that disagrees with you.”
I shake my head. “I’m going with you, and I plan on charming your brother so he’ll have no choice but to let my sister and the other Liosians go. They’re just women. His war wasn’t with them.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Nemeth asks.
I won’t even consider such a thing. “He will.”
I’m mentally getting back into my “court” personality as Nemeth wraps his wings around me and tucks me under his chin. One dizzying moment later and we’ve teleported onto a circle in front of the home of the king. If I was expecting a palace, I’ve been mistaken. It looks more like a fortress hewn from stone, but narrow and climbing up the walls of the mountain itself. Rock pillars frame a metal double door, two guards standing outside. Above the first floor, windows cluster like lines of grapes growing in a row, each window covered in ornate stained glass. The rooms look small compared to Castle Lios’s expansive rooms and winding halls, but there’s so many windows that there’s no question in my mind that this is where the ruler of this place lives.