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 don’t know if it would do anything,” I confess. “Provided that I could count on them to deliver it and not simply cast it into the sea the moment we’re shut away? It’d still take another year to get a response.”
“Exactly. So best to just ignore it.” He strokes a knuckle over my cheek. “You don’t know the reason behind their moods. They could be separated from their wives. They could be on duty with instructions to return quickly. Or perhaps your king is superstitious and told them not to speak to you.”
Now that I can absolutely believe. Lionel hates me as much as I hate him, and he would take any opportunity to twist the knife. He knows I would loathe being here, so it’s very possible they were expecting me to break out and push past the guards. If I take one footstep outside the tower, the goddess will be furious and cast her wrath down upon all of mankind. My selfish actions would make people starve, and ships wreck, cities upon the coasts sink into the furious waters of the sea.
A year ago, I would have absolutely done it…but a year ago, Nemeth was still my enemy. He’s saved me in so many ways. Six more years trapped in this tower seems like a lifetime, but I don’t hate it as much with Nemeth at my side.
I look up at him thoughtfully. His fangs are gleaming in the light he holds, and the slant of it illuminates his strong, rock-like jaw and the harsh angles of his features. His strange nose and heavy brow cast shadows and make him look monstrous, but I see the warmth in those glowing green eyes, and the wing that’s tenderly tucked around me shields my form as if he can protect me from the rest of the world.
How horrified my sister would be to know that I’m in the arms of a Fellian, and I adore it. She would view it as a betrayal. That a Vestalin must do their duty to the kingdom first and foremost. After all, she put aside all of her own personal wishes so she could marry Lionel and secure the throne and the future of the Vestalin line.
Erynne would have killed Nemeth before the first month was out. Of that, I have no doubt.
I guess that makes me a bad sister because I’m ready to crawl back into bed with him and see if he wants to put his face between my thighs after all.
So I smile up at him. “Shall we return to bed?”
Instead of agreement, I get a baffled look. “Now?”
“What’s wrong with now?” If nothing else, I can get away from the sound of them laying bricks outside, which I’ll probably hear in my nightmares. “The food isn’t going anywhere.”
But my fussy Fellian shakes his head. “Right now we should get a quill and some ink and make an inventory of all your supplies so we know exactly what you have for this upcoming year. That’ll give you the best chance of making it all stretch. We can plan our meals ahead.”
Ugh, so practical. I guess I’m not getting his head between my thighs after all. “Fine, fine.”
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
The interaction with the Liosian soldiers bothers me all afternoon as Nemeth carefully catalogs each bag full of dried goods. There’s an entire trunk of dried animal pancreases for my medicine, along with bushels of herbs and more vials and needles. There are a few new dresses. There are candles, and soaps, and another book full of recipes and practical advice that I clutch to my chest, just because it means that Riza hasn’t forgotten me. There’s even a heavy trunk at the bottom filled with thick, dark-looking bricks of dirt that Nemeth calls “peat.”
“Do you ever burn this in your castle?”
“No, never.” I wrinkle my nose. “It looks gross.”
“It can have a strong smell,” he agrees. “That is most likely why. At least they sent fuel this time.” Nemeth seems pleased with my supplies, weighing a bag of dried meat with his hand as if he can tell how much is in it, then making notes on his parchment.
In a chest full of herbs, there is a book—my sister’s favorite epic poem—and tucked into it are several envelopes.
I gasp in delight at the sight of them, clutching them to my chest. “Letters!”
Nemeth smiles at my pleasure, pausing in his inventory to sit back on his haunches. “Who are they from? Your young lover?”
Holding the first one close to the light, I eye the handwriting. “Balon is not much of a wordsmith,” I admit. “This one is from my maid, Riza.” Hot tears well up in my eyes. By all the gods, I really do seem to cry a lot lately, but I’ll allow myself a moment of softness for this. “And one from Nurse.” I flip to the third letter. “And my sister, Erynne.”