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)
It’s as if they knew what I had planned.
At least the journey to my execution is picturesque. Morning rays highlight drops from last night’s rain on the petals and leaves of a nearby garden, where small children chase birds. This humble side of the palace is different from the ostentatious one I saw yesterday. More peaceful, even with fifteen guards at my side.
“Up!” The guard prods my back with his gauntlet, directing me toward yet another set of stairs to the top floor. Whatever Cheral has planned, it will happen up there. “Faster!”
“It’s not easy, you know.” I take my time—much to their annoyance—but, really, I’m straining against the chains with each step. I’ve had years of practice escaping similar binds in training. Whatever this metal is, it will not break, and it bites.
Heavy doors wait ahead, with more guards on either side.
My adrenaline rushes with my anxiety as they usher me inside.
It’s the same sitting room as yesterday. There are no children or wives today, though. There is only King Cheral, sitting in his customary white chair. This is far too nice a room for an execution. But I did behead a lord in my own throne room, so who am I to judge?
“Our guest seems on edge this morning.” King Cheral takes a long sip from his mug. “Did you not sleep well?”
“My sleep was delightful. Thank you for asking,” I lie.
“The guards said you seemed restless. Are the accommodations not to your satisfaction?”
I snort. Is that what the guards said … I would be foolish to think the king doesn’t know about my visitor. He likely has his conjurer spying on me through the rodents.
“Come,” he beckons, waving me toward him. “Enjoy a morning tea.”
“Tea.”
“Yes. That is what we call it. Is that not what Islorians call it?”
What is this new game he plays, trying to lull me into a false sense of safety?
“Oh! I almost forgot. Take those off.” He waves a dismissive hand at his guards, who comply without hesitation, removing my manacles.
Suddenly, I’m free, and more confused than ever.
I roll my shoulder, testing it. Each day brings significant healing where I took the ax, though I don’t know if I’m strong enough to fight fifteen guards. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.
A guard jabs my back with his hilt, forcing me forward in a stumble. I grit my teeth. Him, I will kill first. “Your men could use some lessons in manners around your guests,” I drawl, crossing the room at an even pace.
Movement in a corner catches my eyes.
Tuella is here. Observing me or protecting the king, or both. I have no idea what the conjurer is capable of, but I must assume she’s proficient in stopping me from killing her mortal king, especially since the guards remain at the door.
“Please. Sit.” King Cheral gestures at a chair.
I can’t help but frown as I slide in. This is not the start to the day I toiled over in bed last night after Satoria’s visit.
He fills another mug before setting the pot down. “An old favorite family blend. A mixture of beetroot, cardamom, and apple. Some find it bitter.” He motions to the bowl of cane sugar.
“Please do not take this the wrong way, but do you offer your favorite blend of tea to all you plan on executing? Or is the tea your method? A poison to burn me from the inside out.”
King Cheral’s eyes flash with surprise, but then he chuckles. “The tea is simply tea.” He doesn’t deny his plans for execution.
When I still don’t reach for my mug, he makes a point of recollecting the pot and filling his own mug to brimming, then taking another long sip. “King Malachi has executed Lord Adley of Kettling.”
“Did your kell tell you this?” My gaze flickers to where Tuella stands, silent.
“No, I received word early this morning. The king killed him in the throne room, with a flaming whip that appeared out of thin air.”
“Sounds like a tall tale.”
“After what you witnessed with the seeing stone yesterday, does it truly?” He peers at me over the rim of his mug.
I use the tea as an excuse, taking a long sip as I consider that. “I planned to execute Adley when I returned from the east, so this king has done Islor a favor.”
“Islor, perhaps, but not Kier. My kingdom sacrificed much to amass such an army, and now it waits for orders to invade, and I hesitate about what to tell them.”
“That is easy. Leave my realm and return to Kier. Or let them stay there to fight off the Nulling beasts when they travel deeper into Islor, which they will. I’m sure you won’t lose more than half your men to those things.”
King Cheral smiles, but there is sadness and disappointment in his eyes. “I was promised the spoils of rich lands if I aided Kettling’s cause. Something tells me that is unlikely to come to fruition now.”