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)
“You don’t want to do that.” Xaden shakes his head.
The guy shouts a battle cry, then draws back his right arm, and I flick my wrist. The dagger lands in his shoulder, and the man howls as crimson streaks down his white tunic and his blade falls to the floor.
“I warned you,” Xaden says as the man hits his knees. “Your error was changing your assessment to targeting me as the threat and letting your eyes off her.” He takes his time walking over to the man as Mira punches her assailant in the face, knocking the woman unconscious. Then Xaden plucks the blades from the man like they’re toys. “I knew some of you carried blades. There’s no society in the world that doesn’t keep some kind of cutting tool, and eventually…well, we all cut, don’t we?”
Dain clicks his tongue, and I turn in his direction to find both his dagger and sword out, the shorter of the blades pointed at the shopkeeper and the longer at the customers. “I would stay back,” he tells the men, who have drawn their own serrated daggers. “In fact, if there’s a back door, I would find it and I would leave.”
They scurry to do so.
The injured man falls forward, catching himself on his good hand before collapsing on his stomach, and Xaden leans over him.
“This is going to hurt,” Xaden warns before retrieving my dagger from his shoulder. To his credit, the man doesn’t scream or complain when Xaden wipes the blade clean on the back of his white tunic. “You really shouldn’t raise a blade if you’re not prepared to receive one.”
Mira sheathes her daggers and steps over the unconscious woman. “Well, that was annoying. Are you protecting something? Or do you just really hate riders?” she asks the shopkeeper, who has backed herself into the corner as far as she possibly can.
“Only fire-bringers in this store looking for Narelle,” the shopkeeper answers.
Protecting something. Got it.
The stairs creak, and the angle of Dain’s sword changes as our heads swing collectively.
The man groans, and out of the corner of my eye, I see him struggle to get off the floor.
“No, no. Staying down is a safer bet for everyone involved,” Xaden warns him. “She only wounded you, but I’ll kill you if you take another step toward her, and it turns out that’s bad for international relations.” I glance his way as someone descends the steps, and he arches his scarred eyebrow. “I’m giving diplomacy a try. Not sure it’s for me, though.”
The man goes utterly limp.
Dain hesitates as a hunched figure rounds the end of the staircase.
The shopkeeper yells something in Krovlish, and I blink. “Did she just call her—”
“Mom,” Dain confirms with a nod. “She said, ‘No, Mom. Save yourself.’”
“We’re not here to kill anyone,” I tell the shopkeeper as her mother walks into the light, leaning heavily on a walking cane. Her hair is silver, and the lines of her face have deepened with time, but she has the same pert nose as her daughter, the same deep-brown eyes and round face. “You’re Narelle,” I guess.
Dain lowers his sword as she approaches, then sheathes it as she completely skirts around him, taking in the scene of what I assume is her shop.
She studies Xaden through thick glasses, then Dain, Mira, and finally me, her gaze lingering on my hair before she finally nods. “And you must be Asher Sorrengail’s daughter, here to collect the books he wrote for you.”
My heart stops.
She won’t understand why you’ve kept her in the dark. You left too soon, left too many of your plans unfinished. Now we can only hope the bond between our daughters is strong enough to endure the paths they’ve chosen. They’ll need each other to survive.
—Recovered, Unsent Correspondence of General Lilith Sorrengail
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“Books?” I whisper, my fingers curling around the dagger I realize is still in my left hand.
Narelle tilts her head. “I did not stutter.” She looks pointedly at the armchair. “Put that back in its place.”
Xaden lifts a brow but does as she asks, then crosses the small section of the room and sheathes my dagger at my hip.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He brushes a kiss over my temple, then takes the empty spot at my right side.
“Get off the floor, Urson—you’re bleeding everywhere. Take your sister to the back and wake her up. Did I not say you were ill-prepared to carry a weapon?” Narelle lectures as she avoids the spilled blood. “Please forgive my grandchildren. They took our task of protecting the books from any riders who aren’t…you a little too seriously.” She sinks into the chair. “Thank you, young man,” she says to Xaden, then gives him a second look before glancing at Dain. “My, the Continent does have some fine-looking men.”
A corner of Xaden’s mouth quirks upward, and I can’t help but silently agree with her.