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 guards cover their mouths with scarves as we appear in the courtyard, and I could swear they flinch. Not a good sign.
Nemeth releases me and I step dutifully behind him, pretending to be subservient. As I do, I eye our surroundings. We’re in a gated courtyard on the “bottom” floor of the mountain, surrounded by high stone walls. There are plants growing here, strange twisty-looking things climbing and growing under the anemic light of magical lanterns that cast their glow. I look down at our feet, and there are a dozen circles in the tile mosaic floor, as if the people might teleport in and slowly gather here. There’s no red symbol painted on the door here, either.
“Prince Nemeth here to see my brother,” Nemeth declares in a booming voice as he approaches the guards. I trot behind him, trying to look cute and helpless.
The guards cross their spears over the doors, barring him from entering. “No humans. She will have to wait nearby.” One gestures at the far side of the courtyard, where I see a small gazebo-like structure heavily encrusted with pale green vines and more of the strange lighting. “The king’s orders.”
Nemeth growls furiously, one hand nudging me behind him. “The king has asked for both of us—”
“Aye, and he changed his mind,” the second guard says. “And if you go in, you must cover your mouth. King’s orders.”
My mate reaches for his hammer.
I put a hand on his arm. “Nemeth, it’s fine. Just go talk to him. I can wait out here for a bit.”
He turns toward me, frowning. “I should take you home—”
“No,” I say quickly, giving his arm a pat to soothe him. “We’ve come this far and dressed up to visit. Go in and talk to him. Tell him I wish to speak to him, too. I’m sure it’ll be fine. Just ease the topic of your wife into the conversation.” I take his hand in mine and kiss the back of it. “I can sit in a garden and wait. I don’t mind.”
He sighs heavily, glancing over at the guards. It’s clear he doesn’t like this.
“I’ll be safe,” I reassure him. “Unless you think the guards will hurt me?”
We both glance over at the two men in front of the doors. They’re watching me hold Nemeth’s hand with looks of revulsion, which is odd. I mean, I know humans and Fellians look different but the disgust is a new take. Nemeth notices it, too. He turns back to me, leaning in. “I don’t like this, Candra. There should be more guards here.”
“More?” That surprises me.
“Aye. The palace has always had ten guards at its doors. I don’t understand this.” He shakes his head. “Just as I don’t understand why Ivornath would change his mind about seeing you.”
“Well, go and change it back,” I joke. “I’ll wait here.”
He nods and pulls me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. Then, he leads me toward the gazebo in the midst of the garden and pauses in front of the latticed door there. I can see another figure waiting in the deep shadows inside. Probably another human left behind by someone, since we’re being treated like rabid dogs. I turn and smile brightly at Nemeth, showing him that I’m fine with this.
With one last longing glance, he leaves me and heads for the door. The moment he does, a guard steps forward with a water-skin. “Wash your hands and face. King’s orders.”
I watch as Nemeth mutters something unpleasant to them but does as he’s bade, and then disappears inside, the doors finally open for him.
By the gods, I knew Darkfell would be strange, but I didn’t realize just how strange.
I turn around to the gazebo door and pause. There on the delicate lattice of wood, just above the door handle, is another one of those swirling red marks. Does it mean “human,” I wonder? I push the door open and head inside. “Hello,” I call out to the other occupant. “May I sit with you?”
“Good,” says a hard voice that makes me gasp in surprise. “You’re finally here.”
I stare in shock as the woman inside lowers her hood.
It’s my sister, Erynne.
She’s thinner than I remember, her face hard and there are lines at the corners of her mouth, as if she’s permanently frowning now. But Erynne is still beautiful and regal, and she’s family. With a choked sound, I launch myself at her, hugging her tight. “By the gods,” I weep. “Erynne!”
“Tears do no good,” my sister says in a brittle voice. “Save them for someone else.”
I pull back in surprise, gazing up at her. Erynne’s always been taller than me, and svelte. She seems hard now, though, as if all her softness has disappeared. She smiles at me, but there’s no affection in the expression, and I swear I can see every tendon in her throat when she does.