Total pages in book: 241
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 229266 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1146(@200wpm)___ 917(@250wpm)___ 764(@300wpm)
Looking over at Kieran, I saw that he had been given a fork and a knife. My eyes narrowed. It was slightly thinner, but far sharper than my sad blade.
Finishing off the potatoes, I got back to my line of questioning. “She was mortal, wasn’t she? The woman who brought the food to us?”
Cutting up his roasted meat into neat pieces that all appeared to be the same size, he nodded. “She is.”
Then she must be a Descenter, a mortal of Solis. I used to wonder what sort of hardships someone had to face in their life to lead them to support the Dark One and the fallen kingdom. But that was before I knew the truth. Now, I wondered what hardship had awoken her to the truth.
“Are the people here planning to leave for Atlantia?” I asked.
“You put two and two together, I see.”
“I’m smart like that.”
He raised a brow.
“So, I’m right? Why are they leaving here?”
“Why would anyone want to remain under the control of the Ascended?”
Well, that sounded like a good enough reason. “But why now?”
“Sooner rather than later, the Ascended will realize that their Maiden is missing, and they will come looking for you. They will come here,” Kieran said. “And there are far too many supporters in New Haven.”
My gaze lifted to the now-empty hearth as I thought of all the filled homes along the street we’d come in on. “How many people live here?”
“Several hundred.”
“Is there room for them in Atlantia?”
His gaze slid to mine, and I could tell he was working out that I knew about their land problem. “We will make room.”
I had a feeling it wasn’t that simple. I wanted to know what would happen if they weren’t able to move them in time. I stopped before I could. It wasn’t my problem. Their problems weren’t mine.
Kieran had finally, after about ten years, finishing cutting up his food. “May I have that? If you’re done, that is? I’m not sure, but the last piece is a little thicker than the rest of the pieces.”
Slowly, he looked over at me. “Would you like me to cut your food for you?”
“Would you like me to knock you off this bench?”
He chuckled deeply. “Cas is right. You are incredibly violent.”
“No, I’m not.” I pointed my fork at him. “I’m just not a child. I don’t need someone else cutting my meat.”
“Uh-huh.” He handed the knife over, and I took it before he could change his mind.
I didn’t take nearly the same amount of time to slice the tender meat, but I didn’t hand the knife back over either. I kept it in my left hand as I speared the food with my fork. “Where is everyone?”
“Living their best lives, I suppose,” he replied rather wistfully.
I shot him a dark look, but I was undaunted. “Anyway,” I drew out the word, getting back to what we had been talking about before we ran into Alastir. “What do you call the ones who have mortal blood in them? The half-Atlantians? Like what would you call me?”
“Atlantian.”
“Really?” I replied, picking up one of the rolls. “That makes things confusing.”
“Not to me.”
Rolling my eyes, I bit into the bread and almost moaned. It was so buttery, and there was a hint of sweetness I couldn’t place. Whatever it was, it was amazing.
“The amount of blood someone has does not define an Atlantian,” Kieran elaborated. “Those who are elemental are no more important than those who aren’t.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that if those who were elemental were more powerful, lived longer, and were created by the children of the gods. “Do the changelings have longer lifespans? I’m guessing the wolven do.”
“We do.” He sighed, picking up his cup. “And they do.”
“How long do they normally live?” I picked up a cloth, wiping my fingers, and then I reached down, unsheathing my ruined knife.
“Longer than you can comprehend.” He stared straight ahead, chewing slowly.
“I can comprehend a long time. The Ascended live forever. The Atlantians—well, the ones who are of the elemental line, practically do, too.” I placed the ruined knife on the table and slipped the other one under and into its sheath.
“Nothing lives forever. Anything can be killed if you try hard enough.”
Overly proud of myself, I stabbed another piece of meat. “I suppose.”
“But no matter how hard you try with that knife you just swiped,” he said, and my eyes widened, “you will not be able to kill Cas with it.”
My head swung in his direction. “I’m not planning to kill him with it.”
“I would hope not.” He looked at me from the corner of his eye. “It would probably only further endear you to him.”
I gave a small shake of my head. “I’m going to ignore that incredibly disturbing possibility.”
“Ignoring something doesn’t make it less true, Penellaphe.”