Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
“I saw your dad earlier today down at the Hawthorne Centre. He mentioned your ideas about interdimensional travel,” Gabriel said, raising one eyebrow as he lifted his teacup and took a sip.
“What’s he talking about?” Grace asked, frowning.
I blew out a breath. “I want to go to Oreylia to rescue Vasilios and Sven, but I’m pretty sure my parents are planning on putting deadbolts on my bedroom door to stop me from leaving.”
“And well they should,” Gabriel chided. “I still remember when your Granddad Martin was saved from that place. The horrors in his eyes alone were enough to give a person nightmares, never mind the injuries he endured.”
“Granddad Martin is human. I’m a dhampir. I can withstand far more injury and I’m stronger by miles. It’s not the same. Besides, the Prison of Thorns trained me well to endure hardship.”
“Wait a second,” Grace interrupted. “You want to save Vasilios and Sven? Aren’t they, like, villainous criminals who tried to ruin your life?”
“Technically, yes, but things have changed. I got to know them in the prison, and they got to know me. We…we altered our opinions about each other.”
“You changed your opinion about them so much that you want to travel to a whole other dimension to save them? That’s a serious shift, Darya. What exactly happened while you were in there?” Her look was scrutinising.
“Lots of things,” I said, staring at the cookie in my hand, my appetite suddenly lost. “I had to survive and Vasilios was my life raft. If it weren’t for him I’m not sure what might’ve happened.”
“If it weren’t for him you wouldn’t have gone undercover in the first place,” she pointed out. “Did you…I hope you’re not offended by this question, but did you develop feelings for him?”
“Grace!” I exclaimed, mortified that she’d ask me that in front of her dad.
“Hey, it’s a fair question. People don’t just go on dangerous rescue missions for people they don’t have strong feelings for.”
“Well,” Uncle Gabriel leaned forward. “Do you?”
Flustered, I fiddled with the handle of my teacup. “It’s not that I have feelings for him, necessarily. It’s that I know how he suffered in Oreylia since he was a little boy. Can you imagine spending a century in a dark, treacherous mine working your fingers to the bone? He never wanted to go back there and now he’s been dragged back against his will and I just can’t stand the thought of him suffering another hundred years of hard, back breaking labour. I can’t stop thinking about what might be happening to him. Last night I even dreamed about it.” I glanced at Grace, then at Gabriel. Both were looking at me with a mixture of pity and concern.
“I’m sorry, Darya, but even if there was a way to get there, your parents would never let you go,” Gabriel said and I didn’t mention that Carrabelle believed she could open another portal.
“What about Peter?” Grace asked quietly and I felt an instant stab in my gut remembering how we’d left things. How crestfallen he’d been to learn I’d fed from Vas, and how he’d stared at me in consternation like he could see another man’s mark inside my chest.
I swallowed tightly. “What do you mean?”
Her mouth dipped into a frown. “You’re going to break his heart.”
“What? No, I’m not,” I responded, folding my arms. “Why would you even think that?”
“Because you’re leaving him to go save another guy. That’s going to hurt. How would you feel if the situation were reversed?”
“I’d feel awful, obviously, but I’m sure once I fully explain my reasons he’ll understand. He understood why I needed to go to the Prison of Thorns.”
“Yes, but this is different and you know it.”
The way she looked at me, her eyes all sad for Peter, gave me an ache in my stomach. “I know it’s different,” I answered quietly. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I must do something. Even if I don’t go to Oreylia to rescue them myself, I have to try and help them in some other way.”
“Why don’t you contact your great-grandfather?” Uncle Gabriel suggested.
“You mean Roman?” I replied. “No one’s seen him in a while. Mum says he often disappears for mysterious and unknown reasons.”
“That’s true, but he always returns, and besides, you’re his only living great-grandchild. If you call on him I’m certain he’ll come.”
I thought on that. Roman Patel was almost five hundred years old. Unlike my human grandfather who I saw regularly, Roman came and went and you never knew when you were going to see him next. It had been more than a year since his last visit, but I still possessed the silk scarf he’d gifted me on my twelfth birthday. It was red with gold embroidery, a family heirloom. Witches from India had handwoven it over a century ago. It wasn’t to be worn but instead to be kept in a safe place. If I ever needed him he’d instructed me to wrap it around my neck and whisper his name in my mind.