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)
“Erynne,” I breathe. “I’m so glad to see you. But you’re so thin—”
“And you’re not. I shouldn’t be surprised. Even when Mother tried to make you watch your food, you always looked plump.”
I flinch at her cruel words. She’s angry, I realize. Angry that I’ve left the tower. That I’ve failed in a Vestalin’s duty. That must be it. “How did you get here?” I ask, determined to ignore her anger. “Is it true that Lios is destroyed and the humans here are enslaved?”
Her gaze goes blank for a moment, and then she focuses on me again. “I should be asking how you got here. When did you arrive? Has it been seven years already?”
That worries me. Surely she would know if seven years have passed? And if she thinks it’s been seven…then why is her gaze filled with such hatred towards me? “It’s only been a little more than two.”
“Ah. So you abandoned your duty.” Her smile twists. “You fool. It still took two years, did it? How witless you must feel.”
“We stayed until we had no supplies left. No one arrived to bring food for either of us, so we left and traveled to Lios…or what’s left of it. Is it true? Tell me it’s not,” I beg. “Tell me what happened.” Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe, despite the odds, Lios has somehow survived. That the people retreated further into the mountains and created a settlement there. That they’re thriving on plants that grow abundantly in mud and excessive rain.
Something. Anything.
“You don’t know what happened?” My sister’s hard expression changes ever so slightly. “You truly don’t know what occurred?”
I shake my head. “I’ve been in the tower for the last two years. I know nothing beyond the doors closing behind me. Please. Tell me everything.”
She touches the collar at her neck—a slave collar, just like mine, but hers is a real one. “Lionel set sail the moment you crossed into the tower,” Erynne says in a distant voice, her gaze distracted. “It didn’t matter that the winds hadn’t yet died down, or that the weather was foul. He’d sent you and he expected the goddess to shower him with fair weather. He was such a reckless idiot.” She sounds almost affectionate. “I’m told he lost half his ships before they even made it to Darkfell, and then he set siege to the mountain. Can you imagine? Waiting outside a stone mountain in a boat?”
Erynne laughs, and the sound makes my hackles rise. I try to picture Lionel laying siege to Darkfell, but all I can see in my mind’s eye are the impossibly high cliffs that frame the waters of the sea on Darkfell’s borders. It seems a foolish place to siege, but I am no soldier.
“He lost, of course,” my sister continues. “Nine months he fought and came back like a dog with a tail between his legs. Just long enough to kiss his baby son and impregnate me again. And then it was off to war once more, taking all men that could stand upright with him and leaving me in charge of a people that were running out of food. Did you know that when all the men go off to war, there’s suddenly no one to till the fields or mind the cattle? Did you know that a woman can only do so much with a baby hanging off of her? We tried to make up the slack, but in the end, there still wasn’t enough food. And then the rains just made it worse. It rained and it rained, and we starved and we starved. I envied you in the tower, you know.”
That takes me aback. “You did?”
“Yes.” Her expression grows dreamy. “It seemed like the perfect escape. Just sit in a tower on a bed of cushions, eating food and ignoring the world outside as it goes to shite. Sheer bliss. You didn’t have to worry about anything. You could be proud that you were doing your duty to the gods. Meanwhile I was outside trying to hold everything together.”
I feel a twinge of guilt.
“But at least I had my babies,” Erynne continues. She won’t look at me as she speaks, as if it’s too much for her mind if she sees me. “My strong little Allionel and my darling Ravendor.”
I jerk at the name, an uneasy feeling in my gut. “You named your girl Ravendor?”
She’s not listening to me, though. Her expression is vague. “They’re such good children, too. Strong and brave.” Erynne blinks hard and then turns back to me. “Isabella died, you know. During the famine. She gave her last bites of food to me so I could nurse my baby.”
“Oh gods, Erynne.” I reach for her hands. My youngest memories are of Erynne and Isabella, always together. They were closer than I was with Erynne. I also knew they’d been lovers for some time, and I can’t imagine my sister’s pain. “I know how much you loved her.”