Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“You’re not a bad teacher.”
Jarek ignores my praise, handing me the reins. “Now you walk him to help cool him down.” He whistles at Brawley, shifting on his feet nearby. The mortal dives for the tack while Jarek, Elisaf, and I leisurely lead our horses toward the small pond.
I point to the glow of lights in the distance. “Have either of you been there before?”
“Norcaster? Yes. Anyone traveling this way stops there.” Elisaf strokes his horse’s snout.
I copy the move, and Eros treats me to an affectionate nuzzle. “What’s it like?”
“Smaller than you’d expect for such an important post in the north. Far more rustic than anything you’ve seen in Islor. The people are resilient and less refined. They’ve learned to survive much—both elven and mortal. The homes are simple and small and built for the harsh weather. The snow and wind that blows in off the range can be vicious on the coldest days. They have one tavern in the center of town where every traveler eventually lands, with room and board upstairs for a handsome fee, and a roaring fire to warm up next to with your mead or stew.”
“Until a table of inebriated bastards picks a fight with you.” Jarek jerks his chin at Horik in greeting.
“That has never happened to me there,” Elisaf counters.
“I guess you don’t look like much of a threat, because it has happened to me on many occasions there.”
“Maybe you have a face people feel compelled to punch,” I throw back.
The corners of his mouth curl. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”
But Elisaf’s words trigger a thought. “If every traveler goes through there, shouldn’t we go in to see what we can find out about this poison? Maybe Ybarisans are around.”
“Scouts have gone in to gather information. They will send more if needed.”
That’s right. I noticed Drakon has been gone for a couple days. It’s impossible to miss when the burly redhead isn’t here. He’s so loud.
“And there is no ‘we.’” Jarek chuckles. “After the stunt you pulled in Bellcross, I hazard the king won’t allow you within a hundred leagues of any town or city for some time.”
My anger flares. “I don’t have a keeper, and no one tells me what to do anymore.” I have been surviving on my own since I was fifteen, dealing with the murderous likes of Korsakov and his crew, and now I’m being told where I can and can’t go? Me, who apparently has this incomparable power within, waiting to surge?
Who has no clue how to use said power, but that’s beside the point. I have other skills.
“These mortals aren’t like the ones you’ve met so far.” Elisaf’s tone is gentle by comparison. “They’re brasher and bolder and tend to be more independent. In many ways, they coexist in a manner the king respects. But that does not mean they would not look for opportunities to gain power. That is the way of all. With the rebellion stirring, if they were to discover who you are and what your blood can do, they might use it to their advantage.”
“They would bleed you dry, filling entire jars with the poison in your veins to use as a weapon,” Jarek clarifies. “In case you were wondering what he is dancing around.”
I chase away the mental image his words stir. “Except they won’t figure out who I am.”
“That’s because you’re not going anywhere near Norcaster. The king has charged me with your safety, and unlike others who put up with your games, I won’t bend so easily. But I dare you to try. Please.” The look Jarek gives me is one of wicked challenge.
Arguing with the bullheaded male is not worth it. And I have a better weapon. “That’s fine. I’ll talk to Zander about it. Oh, look, there he is now.” My heart skips a beat at the sleek form that walks straight for us.
Jarek’s molars grind with frustration as he marches away, earning my grin.
“Why must you antagonize him like that?”
“Because it’s fun.” I scratch Eros’s snout and am gifted a head nudge against my cheek in answer as Zander arrives.
“You two seem taken with each other.” He smiles, but I note how tight it is.
“Is something wrong?”
“Yes, I do not want a mad seer pouncing on you again. That will be yours for tonight.” He points to the tent Bregen just finished putting up. Pan is lugging a metal bowl on a stand toward it, and Eden trails behind with a pile of furs. “Foul weather approaches. You should get comfortable in there now.”
A tent to myself … “What about you? Where are you staying tonight?”
Zander’s gaze drifts over my face, settling on my mouth. “There will be enough room for two.”
The heat of that simple statement ignites my pulse. I remember hating when he could read it. Now? Seeing that little smile that touches his lips as he senses my excitement?