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)
“Please.” I duck my head under the water as Xaden moves behind me. Then I rise and search for the right words. The simple pleasure of his hands working soap through my hair gives me a flicker of hope that I might just be able to feel something positive again. “I think I know why riders die when their dragons do.”
His fingers pause before he continues. “Why?”
“It’s not just the deficit of power,” I muse, cupping the bathwater with my hand, then letting it flow out between my fingers. “In that moment, I didn’t know who I was, where I belonged, or why I should bother breathing. If Tairn hadn’t grounded me, I think I would have willingly floated away. I still can’t comprehend the enormity of her absence. I don’t know if I ever will. I can’t see past it.”
“You don’t have to yet.” He moves to my side and sits on the edge of the tub.
“Yes, I do. I’m pretty sure I just heard my siblings say the western line is crumbling and you have thousands of people fleeing into your province.” I tilt my head. “Is there more?”
“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. “But no rider has survived what you just did—”
“Except Jack Barlowe,” I interrupt.
“Glad to see your sense of humor is intact.” He lifts his scarred brow. “No one expects you to be anywhere close to fully functional.”
“I do.” Keeping busy will prevent me from falling back into that bed. I lean into Tairn and try to ignore the gaping void where Andarna should be.
“Then here’s the question.” He grips the side of the tub and searches my eyes. “Do you need me to take care of you or kick your ass? I’m fully capable of and willing to do both.”
“I know it.” My lips press into a tight line. I want him to take care of me, but I need him to kick my ass, and need beats want every time. I sink under the water and work the soap from my hair, lingering in the absolute silence a moment longer than necessary to rinse. When I emerge, Xaden is leaning forward like he was one second shy of coming in after me. My body remembers to breathe on its own. “Can you grab me a uniform from the armoire? I need to get dressed.”
He nods, then presses a kiss to my wet forehead. “Be right back.”
By the time he returns, I’m drying my hair and body while the water drains.
Reluctance mars his face as he hands over my things. “I’m going back out there to make sure they don’t kill each other. Who is Niara?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “My grandmother.”
“She’s apparently a sore subject.” He grimaces and heads into the bedroom.
I get dressed quickly, leaving my hair wet and unbound as I burst through the bathing chamber door into our bedroom.
Mira and Brennan look one step away from drawing weapons and are utterly oblivious to my arrival. Shadows curl at Xaden’s feet as he leans on the edge of our desk, arms folded, eyes narrowed on my siblings.
“She hated our mother.” Brennan shakes his head. “I can’t believe you would go there.”
“Violet has Dad’s books. You have Aretia,” Mira hisses. “I went to the only other living member of our family because all I have are a few of Mom’s journals, and there are months missing, Brennan.”
“He recognized the bracelet as belonging to your grandmother, and it went downhill from there,” Xaden fills me in.
“So Mom didn’t journal for a couple of months. So what.” He shrugs. “Did you ask Violet if she has—”
“The months are missing in the middle of the book,” she counters. “And they’re from the summer Mom and Dad left us with Grandma Niara. Mom purposely didn’t write anything.”
Wait. I’ve read that journal, too.
“That doesn’t mean—” Brennan starts.
“I was eight,” Mira interrupts. “And it was just you and me, remember? Violet was too little to stay. When they returned, Grandma stopped speaking to them.”
“Want me to figure out…” Xaden lifts a brow and glances in my direction.
“No.” I shoot him a warning look.
“That doesn’t mean they hauled her to Dunne’s temple and dedicated her.” Brennan shakes his head with disgust. “That’s been illegal since the two hundreds.”
Dedicated. Gravity pitches and my balance shifts, like the stone beneath my feet has suddenly become sand.
It is good we did not complete your dedication. The Unnbrish high priestess’s words ring through my head, as does the memory of her silver hair, just like Theophanie’s, just like mine.
“Violet?” A band of shadow wraps around my hips, steadying me for the heartbeat it takes Xaden to reach me and replace it with his arm.
“Then they went to Poromiel to do it!” Mira shouts. “You will believe me, Brennan, because it happened! It’s why she refused to speak to either of them. The priestess started the process, then told Mom and Dad that they only accepted children whose futures are certain, and Violet still had paths to choose from—”