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)
That side of him, I can’t forgive.
Is it fair that I sully this false image of a martyr for Gracen, though? Who am I protecting more by remaining quiet?
I hesitate, but I can’t help myself. “You should know that we wrote to Atticus and told him about Ulysede and the end of the blood curse. He probably didn’t believe us, but either way, he knew it was a possibility and he allowed the killing of mortals to continue. All those people … they didn’t need to die.”
A small gasp slips from her lips, and the tears she tried to keep at bay flow freely.
A twinge of guilt pricks me now that the words are out, but I push on, softening my voice. “I’m not telling you that to hurt you, Gracen. He was very kind to you and your children. But if you’re going to mourn Atticus, I think it’s fair that you know who you’re mourning.” And if that makes me a villain in this scenario, so be it.
Jarek pokes his head in, freshly bathed, his braids redone. “He is prowling.”
I don’t have to ask who Jarek means. The disdain on his face says it all.
My stomach flips with nerves. “All right, let’s get this over with.” The sooner it’s done, the sooner I can test that door to Nyos.
“Wait!” Gracen bursts out, wiping her palms over her cheeks to dry her tears. “Before you go—Wendeline told me something about Suri that you should know, Your Highness.” She steals a glance at Dagny and the baby and then lowers her voice. “She said Suri was born with an affinity to Aoife.”
My mouth gapes as I study the tiny sleeping bundle. “But … How?”
She shrugs. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Could the nymphs’ power have brought caster children back to Islor? But the baby was born before Hudem. “Honestly, I don’t know. But there is someone who might.” Whether she helps is another question.
With quick goodbyes, I step out into the hallway and find Oredai waiting.
The queen must attend the elders.
I grimace at his unwelcome intrusion into my thoughts as I wave a hand. “Yes, yes. Lead the way.”
The outdoor court that houses my throne is exactly as it was before—an ancient, unkempt garden of clawing vines and weeping trees, the air warm and fragrant—only now it’s occupied by wisps and those odd little goblin-like nymphs who lounge idly around the black stone pillars, pretending to tend to the many blooms.
The Cindrae march in single file, encircling the entrance to Lucretia’s crypt.
But my focus veers beyond it, to my prickly throne of white branches and polished metals, and the circle of bony silver spikes that sits on the forest-green velvet seat. “My crown! How did it get here?”
The elders wish an audience with the Queen for All.
Oredai hasn’t spoken a word out loud today and his focus is singular.
I dismiss the question of the crown’s mysterious reappearance for now. “Yes. I am aware.” I wish Gesine were here to guide me. I don’t know what to expect, and Lucretia didn’t prepare me. Is this meeting a formality or is there a purpose here?
Will these elders bow for me? Will they thank me for opening the nymphaeum for their return? She who wears the crown will reign over all. That’s what the inscription on top of the throne suggests—that I am a queen for everyone.
Jarek is at my side when we move for the first step. Spears suddenly angle upward, aiming at his chest.
The elders wish an audience with the Queen for All, Oredai repeats. We must honor their wishes.
The message is clear, even if the words spoken in my head are not.
“No fucking way,” Jarek growls, stepping forward until the blades dig into his leather vest. The Cindrae don’t back down.
“Does your commander hope for the wisps’ healing again?” Oredai croons, smiling. “Our weapons are dipped in vrog poison.”
Jarek blanches, which is, I imagine, the reaction the Cindrae leader hoped for when he chose to speak out loud.
“Anyone who harms my commander will answer to me,” I say evenly. But we don’t have time for healing more injuries and delivering punishments. “Is Lucretia down there?”
The sylx serves her masters.
I’ll assume that’s a yes. “It’s fine, Jarek. I’m rested. Besides, if they wanted me dead, I’m sure they would have had our best friend Oredai kill me in my sleep.”
“Wait.” Jarek trots up the steps to the throne, sending wisps and goblins scattering from his formidable form. When he returns, my crown is held gingerly in his fingertips. “These creatures seem set on ceremony.” He places it on my head before meeting my gaze with a severe, warning one. “Remember who you are and do not hesitate to remind anyone who forgets.”
“Got it.”
“And do not think of going through one of those stones without me.”