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)
“I noticed his scars. Burns, right?”
“Yes, he ate an apple without permission, and Lord Danthrin punished him for it. He didn’t have much use of his hand after that and suffered from constant pain.”
My teeth grind. It’s a good thing I didn’t know this that day in assembly. No wonder the children cried.
“But Caster Wendeline erased all that as if it had never existed.” Gracen smiles, and then catches herself and smooths her expression. “I am grateful to her for that. But I don’t know her.”
There is something so pure and honest about Gracen, despite all the hardships she has faced—some I probably can’t guess at, some I wouldn’t want to. “I do miss having her healing touch, I will admit that much.” I sigh. I didn’t bring Gracen here to talk about the previous queen-to-be’s betrayals. “So you threw the vial into the latrine?”
“I was afraid the guards would search us again, and I didn’t want to risk being caught with it in my pocket or anywhere in my room. I knew what that might look like.” She sounds apologetic.
“You did the right thing. Nobody would have believed you. But I know you’re not conspiring against me.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees as I watch her steadily. “At least I hope not.”
She shakes her head, holding my gaze. “I would not, I swear.” After a moment, she adds a breathy “Atticus.”
I love the sound of my name on her tongue.
I would love to hear it in her moans too.
The bell tower gongs, signaling the midnight hour. “You must go.” My insides sink with disappointment. I could talk to Gracen for hours and I doubt I’d get bored.
“Yes, I suppose I must. As young as Suri is, she’s already on a clock. Mika and Lilou will sleep through much but not a baby’s cries.” Yet she lingers. With her own reluctance?
“I’ll escort you to the door.” I rise from my seat, and she follows suit instantly. My hand grazes the small of her back and she stiffens, like she did earlier in the library. I don’t like that much. I’m certainly not used to it. Is it my touch, or any male’s touch? She can’t be entirely unfamiliar to the latter, given the three children she’s produced. So what did that prick Danthrin put her through?
The question is on the tip of my tongue when she peers up at me, and asks, “What will you do? About your future wife who means to kill you?”
“Don’t allow her to succeed?” I chuckle.
Her brow remains furrowed as we walk.
“Thank you for being brave enough to seek me out.”
“I feared telling you,” she admits. “Not for my own sake, but for my son’s. He’s a little boy. A little mortal boy, accusing the future queen of conspiracy and treason.”
“And you are afraid I will name him a witness to such a thing.”
“Yes.”
“But you came forward, anyway.”
“I couldn’t ignore it. Especially not after the kindness you’ve shown us.”
“So you felt that you owed me.”
“Yes. I mean, no … it felt like the right thing to do.”
It was, and yet not many servants would. “Practically, Mika is what, four?”
“Five.”
“Only five. He cannot be named a witness against the future queen. The court would not accept it, and I would be considered a fool for doing so. Regardless, naming him would put him and you in danger from those lords and ladies plotting against me as we speak. And that, I would never do.”
Her throat bobs with a hard swallow. “Thank you, Atticus.”
Fates, her voice is like a soft melody in my ear, singing me to sleep.
And that racing pulse in her throat? The euphoria its contents promise to bring? I feel the burn against my gums, where my incisors beg to emerge. It’s been too long. If I keep her here any longer, I’m liable to take something she hasn’t offered and risk my life in the process.
This time when I place my hand on her back and keep it there, she doesn’t stiffen. “By the way, how were you planning on sharing this disturbing news in the dining hall?”
“Oh.” She smiles sheepishly. “With a note.”
“A note. What, tucked inside a fritter?”
“That is actually not a bad idea,” she admits with a laugh. “No, it was in my pocket. Foolish, I know. Even more so when I saw you sitting beside her.” Her jaw tenses with that word.
“You really do not like her. Why?”
“Because she is cruel to the servants, and she means to kill you.” She hesitates, then bows her head to add, “Lady Saoirse doesn’t deserve you or Islor’s crown. I would not want to see her with either.”
Is it her hatred for Saoirse the reason she came to warn me? Or her personal fondness for me? “It’s a good thing you saw the risk and stayed away. I would rather Saoirse think you are just the baker.”