Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
The will of the fates has come to pass. Monsters swarm from the depths, while dragons soar overhead. And the throne of Islor lies vacant… but not for long.
Fleeing the merciless sirens, Tyree and Annika find themselves stranded on a distant shore. Forced together to survive, they find old magics and terrifying new enemies.
For Romeria and Zander, the long-held secrets of the casters’ magic reveal a chance to finally master the power that has held all their lives in the balance for too long. But with power comes betrayal. And sacrifices must be made.
The final book in the captivating Fate & Flame series.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
Annika
“Is there nothing palatable on this fates-forsaken ship?” I inspect a bruised apple under the oil lamp’s glow before tossing it back into the bushel of spoiling produce.
The Tempest’s cook—a brawny man with a tufted gray beard—pauses in his task of fileting the day’s catch to eye me. That’s all any of these sailors do—offer stares but no words for their princess.
“Well?” I snap. “Does no one’s tongue work around here, save for your delightful captain’s?” Who I would pitch overboard if I didn’t think his crew would toss me in after him.
“Eat your day’s rations when they’re given, or someone else gladly will,” he finally answers, his voice gruff.
“You mean that slop of soggy oats and salted pork? Is that what you deem adequate for a member of Islor’s royal family?” Corrin would beat this mortal with a wooden spoon if she were here, and I would enjoy watching.
“Pardon me for bein’ so boorish. Is there somethin’ else I can get ya?” he asks with mock sincerity, holding up his hand. The radiant two-crescent moon emblem is a taunting beacon in the gloom of the scullery kitchen.
“I would have to be on my deathbed to take your vein even without that mark,” I sneer. The man can’t have seen soap in weeks. Few of the sailors on this ship have. I can barely stand the smell below deck.
“Ya may be there soon enough.” And by the grin, he doesn’t look at all disappointed.
I’ve never been spoken to by a mortal in such a disgraceful manner. “What is your name, sailor?”
“Why?”
“So I may provide it to my brother the king when I next see him. I’m sure he will love hearing how you relished in the idea of my suffering.”
He snorts. “Name’s Sye, an’ we all saw what we were runnin’ from back there. Not much of a king without a throne to sit on. Besides, he’s likely dead, or soon will be.”
I flinch at his callousness. My twin may have left me in Cirilea to deal with a rebellion, and we may barely tolerate each other, but … all I have left are my brothers. That, and a city ablaze and shadowed by a beast like none I’ve seen before. “Perhaps I am the only royal family member left, then, which would make me queen.”
“Well then, queen, you can grab yerself a biscuit and quit pestering me. I got work to do.” He brandishes his cleaver toward a shelf where the basket of hardened bread sits and then lops off the head of a fish.
The block of kitchen knives to my left taunts me. I could probably put one of those through this filthy mortal’s jugular before he had a chance to yell. Little good killing the cook will do me, though. I’ll still be stuck on this ship and with hungry sailors, no less.
“Don’t get no silly ideas,” Sye warns, his eyes also on the knife block. “There’s a lot of us and only one of you.”
“I’m not a savage.” I make a point of snatching two biscuits—twice the day’s ration—plus a bruised apple.
Sye scowls. “Be off, then!”
A jug of mead sits nearby. On impulse, I snake my arm around it and, hugging the awkward cask against my chest, I saunter up the stairs with my head held high, trying not to stumble under the weight.
Hudem’s silver moonlight shimmers off the seawater, highlighting the absence of land.
“Must we sail so far from shore?” I complain to anyone listening.
“If we don’t wish to punch a hole in the hull and sink to our deaths,” Captain Aron answers from the helm.
“I assumed we were already as good as dead once the sirens find us.”
“If the winds don’t pick up, we won’t get that far.”
The air is stale and warm, the ship’s sails sagging. There’s barely a ripple over the water.
He peers at me, then at my loot. “I see you found the kitchen.”
“And your foul cook.”
He smirks. “Sye’s a stickler for rations. You must have really annoyed him to get away with all that.”
I flop onto the floor and yank out the cork. “I figured, by the time I reach the bottom, all my problems will vanish.”