Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Dedicated.
I look toward the temple, but there’s not a blue robe in sight, and the platoon of silver-uniformed guards standing watch in front of the steps serves as ample warning that we’re not welcome anymore.
Between finding our abandoned weapons and the time it takes to get back to the meadow, an hour passes before we arrive at the clearing. Trager rushes to Cat before she redirects him to Dain, across from where Tairn and Andarna land. Dismounting through the constant, pulsing pain in my arm and ribs takes me so long that I’m tempted to simply sleep in the damned saddle and keep my own field dressing on this cut, but I eventually make it to the ground.
Mostly because I know Tairn will never let me live it down if I don’t.
“Did you wield?” Mira is in my face before I have a chance to take more than a few steps.
“What?” I hold my ribs and spot the Unnbrish soldiers retreating into the surrounding jungle.
“Did you wield?” Mira repeats, grabbing my shoulders and examining my face. “Aaric and Cat filled me in on what happened.”
“Relax.” I lift my brows at my worrywart sister. “We got caught in a storm. Lightning struck multiple times, and luckily a really close strike scared the shit out of the queen. There’s no magic here. Why do I have to keep reminding people about that? Can you wield?”
“No, of course not, but you can still speak to your dragons.” She sighs and drops her hands as Xaden approaches. “I’m sorry they won’t ally with us. I thought an isle loyal to Dunne was our best chance.”
“Me too.” My brow furrows as I remember the priestess. “When did my hair turn silver at the ends?”
“Turn?” Mira’s expression mirrors my own. “It grew in that way. Are you all right? I thought Dain was the one knocked unconscious.”
“I’m fine,” I assure her as Xaden reaches us. Of course my parents didn’t dedicate me. That practice was outlawed in the two hundreds, and even earlier in Poromiel. “The high priestess just said some weird things that distracted me.” And I foolishly let her. I’m supposed to be smarter than that.
“As I’m sure she meant to do,” Mira says. “What does that have to do with your hair?”
“I saw a girl with the same hair as me.”
“Really?” Mira’s brow knits. “That’s bizarre. It’s not like we have family from the isles.”
“Right? I’d never thought of it potentially being hereditary—” I wince when my ribs protest a deep breath.
“We need to get you wrapped.” Xaden’s mouth tightens. “We might not have a mender, but we can at least hold the bones in place to heal, and Trager should see if you need stitches.”
“You’re the one who needs stitches,” I argue. “But yes to the wrap. Let’s make sure everyone is ready to leave as soon as possible. I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than we have to.”
“Agreed.”
• • •
After resting the gryphons for a full day at Drake’s suggestion and a thirteen-hour flight, it’s morning when we land on the rocky coast at the edge of Vidirys, the cream-stoned capital of Hedotis.
Have to admit, this is the isle I’m most excited to explore. A whole community built on knowledge and peace? Yes, please.
The weather is slightly colder this far south, and I strip off my gloves before dismounting. My wrapped ribs scream when I make impact, and I take a second to breathe through it before moving forward. “The vegetation is even paler here,” I say down the bond as I crush barely green sea grass under my boot.
Even the sporadic bushes are— Wait.
I crouch next to a wiry bramble bush and note the nine-pointed leaves, then lean closer. “This looks like tarsilla, but the bark is nearly white.”
“Perhaps magic weakens the farther from the Continent one gets?” Tairn muses. “Though I’m not sure how it can be much less than nonexistent.”
“I do not like this place.” Andarna scrapes a single talon through the grass, revealing only damp sand. “My kind would not settle here. We should leave.”
“Cover that. We have to at least ask. Besides, where better to find a cure for Xaden than on the isle of wisdom?” I stare up at the city as Xaden reaches my side. “It’s beautiful but all so…uniform.” There’s a single row of merchants about fifty feet away, and then the three-story buildings begin. They’re all the same color with equally distanced windows, each with the same muted flowers hanging in baskets beneath them. “They razed the original structures about a hundred and fifty years ago and rebuilt with what Dad called intention.”
“That’s a little unsettling,” he agrees, looking back between our shoulders. The tiny cuts on his cheek and forehead have scabbed over, but the bruise along his jaw looks worse today. “And there’s no port. It’s a coastal city with no port.”