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)
“My brother would say I enjoy the swollen ego that goes along with leading the army far more than the noble cause.” I nod toward Tuella, who kneels on the ground, her head tipped back. “What is she doing?”
“Reading the stars.”
I frown as I look up. “It’s not dark enough yet.” There’s a speck here and a blink there, but nothing like what she will see in a few hours, as the night climbs in the sky.
“I do not understand it myself.” Satoria shudders and pulls her cloak tighter around her slight body.
The urge to offer her warmth somehow—rub her shoulders or pull her against my side—hits me, but I refrain. Another mortal owns my heart, whether she wants it anymore or not. Besides, this is King Cheral’s wife, a truth I seem to keep forgetting. “Why have you come?”
“Do you wish me not to be here?” A tinge of hurt laces her voice.
“I am not saying that. But there is nothing but war ahead. Are you a master warrior and neglected to mention it?”
She smiles. “I am adept with my blade. But I have other skills.”
“Like loosening the tongue of your husband’s enemies and convincing them to fight for him?”
A laugh sails from her lips. “I do not recall having to convince you of anything.”
“I suppose not. I cannot lie, it feels good to be home.”
“I hope you hold that sentiment after you speak to your Islorians.” King Cheral rejoins us. “Now that my soldiers’ blood holds no draw for them, they camp together. You will find them over there, on the left.”
“Yes, I can pick out my own kind.” Many of them know who I am. Some fought at my side before the eastern lords’ schemes turned them against Cirilea. Are they worried? They should be. I have not forgotten their disloyalty. Their only saving grace is that they were following their lords’ orders.
But I lost good friends to their betrayal.
“Who leads the eastern wing?”
“A male named Segland. Do you know him?”
“Well enough.” I smile. This should be interesting.
“My general says they have not received word from Kettling’s lord, or any other, since before last Hudem.”
“That is not a surprise. Adley would have had difficulties sending word, given his incarceration and then his death. Do they not know about that yet?”
“They’ve heard rumors. You will have the good fortune of confirming it for them. It is interesting, though, that no one else has stepped up to fill his shoes.”
“They are all spineless cowards, afraid of this new king.” That doesn’t mean they won’t eventually pick up their scheming again.
“Perhaps we could learn a lesson or two in that regard. But between the silence and this unexplained end to the blood curse, they grow restless and ill at ease, according to my general.”
“Delightful. Do they know Islor has a new king?” There were towns and villages in Islor still living under the assumption that my parents were on the throne, even while I had taken it from Zander.
“Again, they have heard the rumors. King Malachi’s quill has been busy.” He gestures toward the tents. “I will let you lead the way.”
“And with nothing but my charming personality to defend myself, I assume?”
“Surely, that is all you will need. You have enchanted me, after all.”
I chuckle as we stroll toward Islor’s soldiers, a row of Kierish guards trailing behind us. “Just remember, if they cut me down, you have far less leverage to use with my brother and Romeria when they arrive.”
“That is why I am here. They would not dare attack a king.”
“I believe that’s exactly what they did when I was last in the plains. Segland!” I spot the familiar bushy red beard at the firepit.
The brawny easterner looks up from his mug of ale, his eyes narrowing—with confusion or hatred, I can’t tell. Probably both.
“Yes, I am still alive, despite Lord Adley’s best efforts. Tell me, how is that pretty wife of yours? When can I see her again?”
Rage morphs his ugly face. Leaping to his feet, he draws his sword and charges for me.
I disarm and throw him to the ground in three easy steps. “Look what I found!” I hold up Segland’s weapon for King Cheral to see.
His guards step forward, their intentions clear.
“You ask me to lead this army, and yet you do not trust me with a single sword. What message will that send?” I warn, twirling it in the air.
His jaw tenses—because he knows I’m right—and he orders them to stand down with quiet words in their language. “If you were hoping to earn their attention, I believe you have.” He waves outward.
Sure enough, the Islorian side of the camp has fallen silent as soldiers crawl from their tents and stand from their seats to see what the commotion is about.
“I suppose now is as good a time as any.” If Zander shows up here and I can’t prove I have command of these men, I am of no use to him. I climb up onto a supply wagon, balancing on a stack of crates. It’s a vulnerable position to put myself in—I could easily be picked off with a well-placed arrow—but I don’t have the luxury of time and intimate fireside conversations to win them over.