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)
“Actions may speak louder than words, but words also carry meaning, and you swore to me that your heart would no longer dictate your decisions. And yet now we are stewards to one of these tainted mortals, and you are forbidding the use of another. Do not tell me she is not the one dictating those poor choices.”
“They are choices, surely, but I do not see them as poor. The truth remains that we cannot win the throne back without her.”
“So we are appeasing her, then? Is that your ploy? To help sway her toward our needs when the time comes?”
I could lie. I probably should lie. It would certainly appease Abarrane. “What I do with Romeria in private has no bearing on our path forward, and I will not explain myself to anyone.” I deliver the warning with a sharp edge. “We must squash this uprising and isolate the poison before it causes irreparable harm to Islor.” If it isn’t already too late.
“As you command, Your Highness.” Her teeth grit as she bites her tongue.
I sigh. “I have not lost my focus or my common sense, Abarrane.”
“I hope not. Because all of Islor depends on it.”
25
Romeria
“It’s not going to work. I always waited until people’s attention was divided. You’re staring right at me.”
“Perhaps. Or maybe it is because I know what you are doing. But let us try one more time.” Gesine holds out her hand.
I drop my ring into her palm.
“Ianca?”
“Silly game,” the seer mutters.
This silly game started when Gesine handed her the ring to see if she could sense anything of the spells Sofie cast over it. Ianca merely shook her head and mumbled something unintelligible about nymphs.
“I know. But we’re trying to help Romeria.” Gesine slips my ring onto Ianca’s finger for the seventh time and then shifts in her seat to give me her peripheral vision. Her orb of light floats to the other side of the wagon, throwing her into the shadows. “There. Is this better?”
“No.”
“Try anyway. Pretend Ianca is a wealthy socialite, you are at a ball, and Korsakov has hired you to steal her precious ring.”
With a heavy sigh, I focus on the seer, her cloudy eyes staring at me, through me. My affinities are packed away in a tight ball in my chest. It took only seconds for me to enclose them this time. It felt like an achievement.
But with this, I’m failing miserably.
The familiar adrenaline flares as I reach forward and carefully slip the ring off Ianca’s gnarled finger.
Gesine’s shoulders sink.
All I can do is shrug. “I guess you’re wrong about this skill set. Maybe people in my world are too easily distracted.”
“I was so sure.” Disappointment laces her voice, and I feel its weight. I was hoping she was right too. It would be a connection to my past life. Despite how I crumbled that cave, that I could have been one of these key casters without knowing still doesn’t seem real. This would have been proof.
“Are we done now?” Ianca asks.
“Yes, we are finished for today.”
“I need to lie down.” She fumbles with her ring finger. “Where did it go?”
A beat passes as realization settles in. Gesine and I share a look.
“Did you not feel Romeria take the ring from you?”
“She took it?” She paws at her hand again as if to confirm it’s not there. Another second passes, and then she lets out a raucous cackle. “Do it again, Other Romeria!”
I’d feel more confident in my abilities if my target wasn’t a seer with no vision and a scattered mind, but even still, a wide grin stretches across my lips.
I slip the ring from Ianca’s finger five more times without her notice before the novelty wears off and she demands rest. With a soft “good night” and a promise that we’ll continue tomorrow, Gesine helps her under the skins and settles in next to her, curling a protective arm around the seer. The globe fades until nothing exists, casting the wagon in darkness.
I contemplate venturing out to find Zander, but it’s silent outside, and I know his concerns about the Legion losing faith in him aren’t overstated.
Pulling the soft gray pelt over my torso, I drift off replaying so many old memories through a new lens.
A key caster’s lens.
It’s still pitch-black when I’m jostled awake by hands groping my body, digging, searching.
I open my mouth to scream and brace myself to defend.
“Where is it, where is it, where is it …”
Ianca’s reedy voice stalls my reaction.
I remain frozen as her poking hands fumble for my ring finger. Her fist clamps over it, squeezing hard enough to draw my wince.
“So much agony!” she wails into the darkness, on the verge of sobs. “Centuries of suffering by his will.”
My heart hammers. “Who suffers?” I dare ask in a whisper.
“The key caster.”