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)
“Dinner,” I say, standing my ground. “I’ll see if he’s willing to have dinner. But if he isn’t, you’re going to have to respect that, too. You push, and he’ll shove back twice as hard.”
She braces her hand on the doorframe and shifts her eyes in thought. “What if I can promise you’ll get a meeting with the full triumvirate? That’s what you need, right? Maybe I can give you some answers they’ll look for to evaluate your acumen.”
I blink, and pity recedes an inch. “What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.” Damn, this tray is getting heavy.
Her posture softens and she steps out of my space, her hand falling to her side. “You must love him to prioritize his feelings over your mission,” she says quietly, like it’s a revelation.
“Yes.” I nod. “It’s nothing compared to the way he risked Aretia for me.”
“He risked Aretia,” she whispers through a watery smile. “Then he loves you, too. His father never would have…” She shakes her head, and her hair rustles against the back of her gown. “Doesn’t matter. Having dinner with him would be more than I’d ever hoped for. I’ll send someone up in a few hours to see if he’s willing to join us.”
“Thank you.” I wait until she heads down the long cream-colored hallway, then shut the door and turn the lock just in case.
Then I take the tray in both hands and go find Xaden.
The room they gave us is obviously meant for guests of distinction. It has high, vaulted ceilings; intricately carved furniture; sophisticated artwork; and a bed that could easily sleep four people. Everything is cream with touches of pale green and gold, all perfect in a way that borders on too pretty to touch. Our black flight jackets look sorely out of place draped across the chair of the delicate desk, and our packs and boots are so dirty I insisted on leaving them in the attached bathing chamber.
The carpet is soft under my bare feet as I cross the spacious room and open one of the double glass doors onto the covered veranda. The high balcony links with the four other bedrooms to the right on this side of the house, so it’s no surprise to find Garrick sitting on the edge of the balustrade with Ridoc, their backs to the ocean.
But it does surprise me to find the cushioned loveseat empty.
Ridoc lifts his brows at me and tilts his head to my left, and I take the cue, shimmying between the guys and the decorative table in front of the loveseat when they hop off the railing.
“Good luck.” Garrick pats my shoulder, and the two retreat down the veranda.
I find Xaden on the shaded floor between the loveseat and the corner piece of railing where my armor is tied, drying in the ocean breeze. He sits in sparring pants and an undershirt with his back against the wall, bare forearms resting on raised knees, gaze fixed into the distance.
“Room for one more down there?” I ask.
He blinks, then forces a half smile. “For you? I’ll move to the couch.”
“Don’t even think about it.” I squeeze in next to the railing, careful not to twist my torso and anger my ribs, then sit and set the tray on the floor in front of me.
“These fell out of your pack.” He opens his fist, revealing the two vials Bodhi gave me.
Shit. “Thanks.” I take the vials and slip them into my pants pocket.
“That little one-two combo would definitely help me get my hands on you at home if I didn’t think Sgaeyl would torch me for willingly blocking the bond, even temporarily.”
I swallow. “I should have told you I had it—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation.” He looks me straight in the eye. “I’m glad you have it. I don’t want to lose my connection to Sgaeyl, not when I can still use my signet to fight venin, especially since you have one obsessively hunting you. But feel free to shove that serum down my throat if at any moment I’m not…myself. I’d rather be powerless than potentially hurt you.” He glances down at the tray. “My mother?”
Nice subject change.
“She brought you food, but really only wanted to talk to you.” Through the gaps in the railing, I look out over the strip of sand that meets the ocean and press my lips into a tight line. While Tairn and Andarna sun their scales on the beach, Sgaeyl prowls along the waterline, her head low, her eyes narrowed.
“She’s pacing for some reason,” Xaden says as Sgaeyl passes by. “Not that I can ask her.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “Not that she’d answer.”