Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125422 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 627(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
And while I’m unsure how much capacity the Magician has for worrying, I’m doing enough for the both of us.
Still, I’m glad he’s here. When I thought he died, I felt the ground collapse under me. The thought of having to do all this alone was terrifying when it shouldn’t be. I should be stronger than that. I know how to fight, I know I’ve proven myself time and time again, and yet…with the Underworld as I know it, my land, my home, slipping through my fingers, I couldn’t bear facing the end of it alone.
I’m glad you’re here, I think, hoping he can maybe hear me.
The galaxies in his face swirl into a cosmos of pink and purple before turning into shooting stars. I don’t know if that means he heard me or not, but it comforts me regardless. Actually, it more than comforts me. It causes my heart to skip a few beats, for my blood to run hot and my skin to grow tight.
Or that could be an infection setting in, given that I still have an arrow sticking out of the back of my leg. The Magician was able to lop off the end of it with my sword, but still, it’s there, making me feel painfully mortal with each and every step.
I growl and look back at Rasmus, rage kindled in my belly. “You know, since you stuck an arrow in me, it’s only fair I stick something in you.”
I pass his leash to the Magician and then brandish my sword, the metal glistening even in the dim light of the forest.
Rasmus raises his chin. “Go ahead,” he says. “You’re just as petty as your father.”
I snort. “My father would have run the blade into your eye already and been done with you.”
“Like I said, petty,” Rasmus glowers. “Too bad your father isn’t here now to show you the ropes.” His face contorts with mock concern. “You don’t think he could be dead, do you? Maybe that’s why all of this is happening.”
His voice is dripping with sarcasm, and yet the gleam in his eyes holds knowledge full of malicious intent.
I swallow hard, my palms starting to feel clammy, enough so that I nearly drop the sword.
“Don’t listen to him,” the Magician says. “Your father isn’t dead.”
“That’s funny,” Rasmus says. “Because I could have sworn he was killed alongside Hanna when they were taken prisoner by my mother and Salainen at the bone match. At least, that’s what they told me. Makes sense, considering they were disguised as the beloved king and queen. How else could they use shadow magic and Sala’s likeness to fool everyone at Shadow’s End if they hadn’t been removed from the picture?”
What he’s saying sounds too real and complicated to be a lie. My grip on the sword tightens.
“They are not dead, Loviatar,” the Magician says again, sternly this time. “I promise you this.”
“Then where are they?” I cry out in frustration. “Why is this happening? How could my mother have gotten control of Tuonela like this? How could it crumble so easily?”
The Magician goes silent. A moon waxes and wanes as it rotates across his face.
“Your father is not in this world,” he eventually says, his voice sounding airy and far away.
“Because he’s floating in Oblivion forever,” Rasmus finishes for him.
I react without thinking, drawing the sword across his throat, nearly breaking the skin. “Shut the fuck up, or you’ll be the one in the endless void, and mommy won’t be able to save you then,” I snarl into his ear.
“Tuoni is in the Upper World,” the Magician tells me quickly, trying to calm me down. “He is with Rasmus and Hanna’s father. The shaman, Torben.”
Rasmus goes still, his eyes widening. Ah. So this he fears more than the blade at his throat. Torben. His own father.
“Are you sure?” I ask, my heart stuttering between my ribs, too afraid to hope.
“I am,” the Magician says. “They will be finding a portal to come back.”
“And Hanna?”
“She is not dead,” the Magician says. “But I don’t know where she is. She is beyond where I can see.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means to have faith and stay on course,” the Magician says as he walks over to me and curls his fingers around my forearms in a powerful grip that burns my skin. I can’t help but stare into his galaxy face, and I find myself lowering the sword, as if not in control anymore.
Is he hypnotizing me?
A shooting star curls up where his mouth should be.
Oh, he’s smirking.
Again, a strange sensation rushes over my limbs, creating goosebumps in its wake. A dangerous feeling. I force myself to ignore it.
He then turns his attention to Rasmus. The wound the Magician had caused earlier has reopened thanks to my sword, a drop of blood spilling down his neck.