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)
Wendeline flinches at the reminder of her part in Cirilea’s demise. “I had hoped Atticus would approach things differently. But he is not his brother.”
“You are loyal to this Zander.” I hear the distaste of his name on my tongue. That smug Islorian, taunting my misfortune with such relish. If he had not had that beast there to whisk him away, he would be dead. But then I would have no leverage with Romeria, so perhaps I am the fortunate one for failing to kill him.
“I have always been loyal to him and his family, but mostly to his cause.” She smiles softly. “I’ve heard him speak often about a realm where all people live equally. Mortals and immortal alike.”
I guffaw. “That will never happen, in this realm or any other. There will always be those with power who wish to keep it, those with wealth who refuse to relinquish it. Tonight’s disaster in the arena was sparked by a noblewoman’s table-side complaint that her servants were abandoning them. Now, with the king’s demonstrated support, those with influence will take matters into their own hands, believing they have license to. They will use the fear of the arena as a tactic, and it will work.”
“Perhaps it was too idealistic,” she agrees. “Still … a noble cause for a noble king.”
Our path through the garden is quiet for a long moment.
“Where did these People’s Sentinel first see such a symbol and decide to claim it for their own?” Wendeline wonders out loud.
“Likely from one of the seers they burned.”
A soft chuckle escapes her, even as her face pinches with consternation. “Yes, you are right. It is all quite ironic.”
It feels oddly therapeutic to have someone to speak to so freely about our kind. I have not had anyone in my life to do that with for far too long.
But I have a purpose here, and it is not friendship. “Do you have any information for me about my earlier query?”
“I do, Your Highness, for what it’s worth. More than one person saw the princess boarding a ship that left before all the others on the day of the rebellion.”
“And what are the chances they mistook her for someone else?”
“It is not likely. Princess Annika is beautiful beyond compare, and her blond locks are distinctive. Also, the ship she was on was nearly empty. One source claims she was held at knifepoint by a male with dark hair. A regal-looking elven.”
I frown. “A lord, perhaps?”
“They did not know who he was.”
That is certainly curious. “Did they know where she was sailing to?”
“They did not say. But options would be limited. Either they sailed to Seacadore or to Northmost. Anywhere beyond that and they would face the sea sirens. No captain would risk it.”
“Sea sirens.” I shake my head. There is still so much for me to learn about this world. “So she might still be alive, then.”
“Yes. And safe from Cirilea.”
“Safe is a relative term.” There is an army of Saur’goth warriors rushing south from the mountains and they will obliterate anyone and anything in their path. How long before Romeria and her precious exiled king discover that? Not long now, I imagine.
I lead us through the cedar labyrinth, past the circular rose garden, and toward the nymphaeum, checking the position of the moon as my heart hammers in my chest. All day I’ve waited for Malachi to mention something about the missing guards at the nymphaeum last night, but either he’s been distracted or the Saur’goths never noticed their comrades missing. Or perhaps Malachi wishes to catch my treasonous hand in action, so to speak.
“Where are we going? The bulk of the damage is the other way.” Wariness touches Wendeline’s voice.
“It is, but I need you to come with me this way first. There is something you need to see.” Or, more accurately, someone who needs to see you.
45
Romeria
“Where is she? We cannot stand here all night,” Zander grumbles.
“We’ve been here for two minutes.” But he’s not wrong. The pile of beast-guard corpses will be hard to explain should someone stroll by.
“I’m surprised there weren’t more after last night.” Jarek hovers near one side of the nymphaeum while Abarrane takes the other, their eyes grazing the shadows. “Unless she and Malachi are scheming and this is a trap.”
“I’d hope Lucretia would be here to warn us if that were the case.” If she didn’t somehow give herself away. “Regardless, I’ve shielded us.” The entire nymphaeum is protected by an invisible dome. Of all the tricks Gesine taught me, that might be my favorite.
The slightest rustle in the cedar hedge sounds, setting everyone into a fighting stance.
Two forms step out.
I nearly lose my grip of my affinity at the sight of Wendeline. She was always slight, but now she looks frail, like a strong gust of wind could knock her off balance, her white priestess robes hanging off her skeletal frame. In just a few months, the threads of gray in her hair have multiplied, taking over the corn silk blond. She looks tired and worn, as if she has been dragged through a figurative hell and back.