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)
The portcullis ahead is closed. “I would highly advise against you passing that threshold. You are still weak, and when the blood curse takes hold of you for the first time, it can be overwhelming. I am not sure what it will do to you in your condition, and I would not want you keeling over dead after all of Romeria’s efforts to keep you alive.”
Telor shakes his head. “I have so many questions.”
I chuckle. “And I told you I will answer them in due time.”
We reach the outer gates. The soldier who delivered his earlier threats dips his head. “My lord, it is good to see you. We thought you had perished.”
“If not for His Highness and Princess Romeria—Queen Romeria now, it seems—I would have.”
The soldier—Paisley, I presume—frowns, his eyes flashing to me. “My lord?”
“Have the army decamp and ride for these gates. I will be back within the hour to address everyone.” He guides his horse back around and rides away without another word, his mood somber.
Abarrane holds one end of the rope that binds Braylon Telor’s wrists as she leads him toward the outer gate. He has barely a scratch on him. His accomplice took the brunt of her questioning, and Abarrane made Braylon watch every minute of it until he was sobbing, begging through his tears to end his friend’s suffering and singing the names of those who conspired with him.
Abarrane granted his request by slashing the male’s throat.
There is nothing more important to Telor than loyalty and honor. Braylon must realize he is walking to his execution. I would pity the Islorian, had he not tried to kill his father, a noble male and my friend.
Telor rides on the other side of the line of legionaries, his jaw tense, his gaze avoiding his only son.
Horik pulls the lever and the portcullis draws upward. Beyond it, a thousand men wait in formation for their lord.
“Are they gathered?” Telor stands firm just inside the gate line. He has no interest in appearing weak before his men.
“Yes, my lord. All seven names on the list they gave us.” Paisley nods to the right, where seven soldiers—a mix of mortals and elven—have been stripped of their armor and their weapons. They wait on their knees.
Abarrane leads Braylon out by the rope and hoofs the backs of his legs. He buckles and joins the others.
Whispers carry as a row of legionaries find their places behind the men.
Telor’s throat bobs with a hard swallow.
“Would it help if I gave the order?” I offer in a whisper.
“No. They will fault you for this, rather than hold those who deserve it accountable. I must be the one.” Telor heaves a sigh and then bellows for all to hear, “For the crimes of conspiracy, treason, and attempted murder of their lord and Islor’s fourth king, I sentence those kneeling before you to death.” He hesitates, long enough to take a slow, deep breath, and then gives the signal.
The legionaries’ blades move swiftly and without remorse.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ROMERIA
I open my bedroom door and frown at the regal figure standing next to Jarek. “Gesine?” She’s swapped her plain beige dress for an emerald silk gown, and her raven-black hair is as sleek and smooth as when I first met her. “I thought you’d be back to your books by now.”
“Good morning, Romeria.” She dips her head in greeting. “Or, closer to good afternoon. And yes, I’ll be back to the library shortly, but I wanted to see you first. How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck.” Once we were within the safety of Ulysede, I went back to work on Lord Telor’s wound, trying to repair the damage his son’s blade had done. By the time it felt firmly knitted, Zander had to carry me to bed, my energy sapped.
But already, that familiar and comforting buzz deep within my core has returned, my well of power replenished.
“A truck? What is that?”
I chuckle. “Something you sit in that gets you places. Never mind. How is Telor?”
“A little worse for wear, but he will recover.” She smiles. “You did as well as I could have.”
“I’m not sure about that, but … thanks.”
Jarek leans against the wall, arms folded, ankles crossed.
“What have I missed?” I ask.
“Let’s see.” The warrior leads us down the hall. “We executed Braylon and his conspirators at dawn, outside the gate. Telor gave the order.”
What must that be like? Probably as painful as having your son try to kill you, I guess.
“And Iago is back.”
My posture relaxes with that news. “How is he?”
“He’ll live. Resting now. He could use your healing, though, since that one still has a bird in her head.” He juts his chin toward Gesine.
“You didn’t lose your connection?”
She shakes her head. “Almost, but no.”
“And did the saplings come inside?”
“Yes. They are probably still sitting on the bridge, staring at the sun.”