Total pages in book: 201
Estimated words: 191006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 955(@200wpm)___ 764(@250wpm)___ 637(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 191006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 955(@200wpm)___ 764(@250wpm)___ 637(@300wpm)
Radomir follows behind the Ybarisan. “What about my blood?”
My commander’s grin turns into a grimace, earning Radomir’s laugh.
“On foot, sapling, and leave the merth behind,” Abarrane barks, sparing me a glare that promises I’ll be getting an earful from her later. That she hasn’t openly argued with me in front of them is an improvement, though.
Radomir obliges, tossing the glowing cords and reins to his closest sapling and dropping from his saddle. He strolls toward me.
Jarek steps between us, his swords ready.
From this proximity, I see the sinewy skin pulled taut across his cheeks, like he’s been starved.
“What’s the matter, Romeria? You once told me my face wasn’t as unappealing as you had imagined.”
I swallow against my shock. Apparently, I have been this close to the sapling before. “I guess I was a good liar?”
He chuckles. “Don’t I know that.”
Once they’re past, Jarek leans in and whispers, “What part of ‘give them nothing’ did not sink into that thick skull of yours?”
“Zander said we need allies, not enemies.”
“Saplings make target practice, not allies. You have nothing to offer that will earn their loyalty, unless you plan to deliver them our veins.”
I hope that’s not true. “Would you please trust me for once?”
With a deep inhale and a shake of his head, Jarek guards my back as, together, we trail Kienen and Radomir past the entrance to the tunnel, and the portcullis descends behind us, leaving the rest of the Ybarisans and saplings on the outside.
Loth and Horik dive for Drakon, helping him onto a horse. He’ll need Gesine’s healing touch.
Zander shakes his head at me—I’ve earned myself an argument later; he obviously shares Jarek’s doubts—before warning, “Any foolish ideas will be dealt with harshly.” Every lantern within the tunnel suddenly flares with a burst of flame, the heat grazing my cheek.
Radomir strolls forward. “I’ve always found it ironic, how horrified you are to be treated in the same way you treat your mortals.”
“We do not trap our mortals and feed on them until they wither into nothing,” Abarrane snaps.
“Because you’ve subjugated them to two millennia of slavery. It’s all they know, and they follow like sheep. At least they did. But now they have an effective weapon, thanks to your gracious neighbors.” He peers back over his shoulder to wink at me.
“And how does that benefit you, sapling?” Abarrane draws another sword, for show. “Without us, you die too.”
He sighs, his voice suddenly somber. “We all must die, eventually.”
Silence falls over our company, save for the horses’ clomping hooves, but the tunnel brims with tension. Radomir strolls at the front of the line, hidden within his cloak as if unbothered by the enemies at his back. He’s a tall creature, his heavy cloak making his presence seem larger.
Kienen follows closely after, the suspicion radiating from him enough for the two of them. He assumes he’s heading to his death. If he doesn’t react the right way, I fear he is.
And the way Zander’s attention is locked on both the sapling and the Ybarisan, looking for any excuse to set them on fire, would make anyone believe the pyres are already built and waiting.
The trek to reach Ulysede feels eternal, giving me enough time to doubt my choices ten times over.
“Fates,” Kienen whispers, his head tipping back as he takes in the night sky beyond the mountain wall.
“Not what you expected?” I ask.
“I did not know what to expect.” He peers up at the two moons shining bright, his words a mumble I barely catch. “Certainly not this.”
Radomir wanders farther in, his steps slow and staggered as ours were the first time we entered.
My stomach sinks. Was I wrong?
“What is this place?” The air of arrogance that tinged his words outside is absent. Now, only awe remains.
“This is Ulysede.” I hesitate, but only for a second. Zander ruled his kingdom on secrets and lies, and where did that get him but exiled? “It was built tens of thousands of years ago and sealed, waiting for prophecy to unfold.”
Zander’s warning gaze burns into the side of my face. “Romeria—”
“That time is coming.”
“Why do I feel so … off? I can’t explain what it is, but …” Radomir slowly turns.
I gasp at the face staring back at us, still obscured within the depths of a cowl. Gone are the bulging forehead, the sunken, sinewy cheeks, the lifeless black eyes. Now, an Islorian male with striking features stands before us. Handsome, many might say.
“Fates.” Zander is equally stunned.
Everyone is.
When Radomir realizes we’re all staring at him, gobsmacked, his panic stirs. “What have you done to me?” He shuffles back several steps, looking ready to bolt.
My smile stretches, unbidden. For a moment, I thought I’d gotten it all wrong. “I’ve kept Ybaris’s side of the deal.”
He frowns, not understanding.
“See for yourself.” Zander hops from his horse and pulls out his sword.