Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Truett looks at me, easily holding his sister as she struggles to break his hold. “Go on. Get out of here.”
He doesn’t need to tell me twice. I push up off the floor and sprint toward the kitchens, glancing only once over my shoulder to see the siblings in a heated argument.
I nearly knock into Rhynda when running in, and she glares at me while nodding at one of the stoves where a large pot sits. “There’s hot porridge. Get yourself something to eat, then I want you polishing silver today.”
I withhold a groan of disappointment, because that’s a never-ending, sucky job. I don’t know where all the silver plates, goblets, and utensils come from, but there’s a fortune’s worth down here, and it’s always tarnished. Maybe it’s the air of Hell itself that blackens it.
I make my way to the stove and scoop a bowl of the porridge. It’s not bad, just tasteless, but I’m honestly not hungry. This morning has been the worst I’ve had here so far. I’m still a little sad about Amell’s indifferent dismissal, but I’m terrified Sorcha might slip behind me and bend distance to the river so she can chuck me in.
“Good morning,” Will says as he walks by, carrying a huge bowl of what looks to be sugar peas, I’m guessing an import from the First Dimension. “I’m shelling today. What are you doing?”
“Polishing silver,” I mutter, and his eyes warm with sympathy.
“Do it on that table over there and we can talk,” he says.
I nod in agreement and finish my breakfast. I then go to the large pantry that holds all types of serving ware and grab dingy wine goblets from a shelf. These have intricate scrolls and etchings, and I’ll have to get inside the little nooks and crannies. I also nab some rags and a glass jar of what Rhynda told me was polish. It smells foul, but it does shine up the silver.
Once I’m seated at the table with Will and we’re both solid into our work, I scan for Rhynda.
I don’t see her anywhere, so I kick Will under the table. “I’ve got some amazing news.”
He glances up while his fingers still work at the pods. “What’s that?”
I can barely contain my excitement. “Amell’s agreed to release you back to the First Dimension.”
Will’s head snaps up and his eyes actually glaze over. “Don’t joke around about stuff like that.”
“I’m not joking, Will. I asked him to, and he said he would. His daughter is visiting, but I’m sure after she’s gone, he’ll do it.”
I expected a wide smile, but Will’s expression looks haunted. “And what exactly did you have to give up for my freedom?”
I know what he’s insinuating, and I rush to reassure him. “Nothing I didn’t mind giving up.”
Not exactly true. I didn’t want to divulge anything about my life, but if it was to buy Will’s freedom, I was very happy to give it to Amell.
Will frowns, his hands going still. “I hear you saying you didn’t mind, but why do I get the vibe that it was something big? He didn’t make you do something… um… gross or painful or—”
I wave my hand at him. “It was nothing like what you’re thinking. He simply wanted a truth about me. Something personal. It was no biggie.”
Will stares at me a good long while, but then a smile breaks out across his face as if he’s just now understanding what I’ve told him. “You mean… I’m going home?”
“You’re going home,” I say.
I know Will would like to scream out in joy or dance around the table or throw his arms around me in a hug of thanks, but he’s been in servitude long enough to know that would earn him a beating. Instead, tears pool in his eyes. “I can’t… I don’t even know what to say, Nyssa. I thought I’d die here.”
“Well, now you won’t.” I keep my voice cheery and bright, hoping to dash those tears. “Now… what’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get back?”
Will closes his eyes a second before pinning them on me, and the tears are gone. “A huge, greasy cheeseburger with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise, and a fried egg on top.”
“Oh damn, that sounds good,” I say, my mouth watering from the thought of it. The food here is edible, but it’s nothing I’ll ever crave.
“Nyssa… I’m shaking,” Will says, holding out his hands. And sure enough, he’s trembling hard. “Am I really going home?”
“Yes, Will. You’re really going home.”
Rhynda walks through the doorway, giving Will and I the evil eye. I polish hard and Will keeps shelling. We work in quiet until she moves to the other end of the kitchen. The silence is dispelled when Will asks, “Tell me something personal about you, Nyssa. Give me something to take back with me that you don’t share with anyone.”