Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
Sadly, he awoke his princess doing this last.
However, all she did was press closer and whisper sleepily but with unhidden relief, “You’re back.”
And she again fell fast asleep.
He held her in his arms tight to his frame and breathed her in.
She rode like she was born in the saddle. She bantered with her friends with affection, humor and respect. She had a small tent with but a blanket on the ground, and did not go to it, or rise from it, with even a single complaint. Indeed, she erected it herself without request for assistance.
She could build a fire. She could cook over it.
Her use of her staff was strong, sure and swift.
Her magic was awe-inspiring.
And she learned Zee dancing in no time, which foretold her learning how to do other things with her body, and his, with great ease.
A female moan muted by distance drifted to the tent, but it was drowned out by a loud, long male groan.
And Cassius found himself smiling into Elena’s hair.
Silvanus was right.
Until that night, Cassius would not have described Princess Elena of the Nadirii as fragile in any way.
But when he spoke his cutting words, he knew she was.
He did not believe the slightest in the power of happiness.
Happiness was weak and fickle and transient.
However, what he had come to understand that night was that Elena had not learned this.
And something else Cassius had come to understand that night, and he understood it the moment she first called him Cass.
He would do all in his power to make sure she never did.
56
The Doors
Farah
Just Outside The Doors, South Center of the Great Thicket Forest
WODELL
“It wasn’t me, it was you.”
“It bloody was not me, it was you.”
“I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“I remember it like it was two minutes ago.”
As our horses walked slowly, the steady sway of their gait relaxing, I looked to the side to see True’s face gentle, a small curve on his lips as he listened to Luther and Wallace bicker, something they did a good deal.
It was affable and based in mutual fondness, oftentimes could be amusing and sometimes Bram or Florian would join in (never Alfie, he was far too serious, though he would make them quiet down if it started to get agitated).
I was not right then amused.
It had been days we slowly traversed this beautiful countryside with its rolling patchwork of fields and herds upon herds of fluffy, black-faced sheep.
Intermingled in these were small hamlets or slightly larger villages with cream stone buildings that had tiled roofs covered in moss or were topped in thatch. These buildings were cut with packed earth or cobbled roads winding through and surrounded by grass that was a green so green, it was like blankets of emerald.
Then there were the mighty forests, the colors of the falling leaves ranging from green to brown with stark yellows, bright reds and a plethora of oranges mixed in.
And there was such fauna, it was difficult to believe it was real. An abundance of deer, hare and rabbits, squirrels, hedgehogs, pine martens and badgers. We even saw fox, and once, a pack of wolves in the distance.
And the air sang with the flocks of birds heading south for the winter.
In fact, the night before had started warm, but True had risen in the middle of it from the bed we shared at the inn where we’d stayed. He did this in order to close the window he’d left open after the chill set in.
But before he closed it, I’d heard the hoots of owls.
Thus, I hoped I’d see an owl. They’d fascinated me from the very first drawing I’d seen of one.
It was known Wodell was full of magic and I wondered if all of this was what people meant when they spoke of it.
But I had seen the shimmering dust of a pixie’s flight.
And True had pointed out a fairy with leaves tangled artfully in her hair, a garland of them adorning the waist and wide skirts of her gown, her gossamer wings fluttering behind her. She was leading a lost fawn—who was only perhaps a few inches shorter than her—back to its mother.
So there was even more magic to this bountiful, beautiful land.
Indeed, True had told me not half an hour before that we neared The Doors so I hoped soon to see gnomes.
My mother, like many Firenz, was not admiring of anything Dellish (save its wool).
But I could not help but think she would have adored this journey through this land so very different from our own, for it was impossible not to fall in love with it.
I wished to be looking forward to The Doors and meeting gnomes, as I had all the many things True told me he wanted to show me.
But I was not looking forward to this.
For it had dawned on me, as Wallace and Luther bickered about hijinks they’d participated in, all the stories all the men spoke about of women they’d pursued (sometimes the same one at the same time), follies they’d attempted, evenings of inebriation, song, fisticuffs and games of chance they’d had…