Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 119158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119158 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Even as I was led away, I snagged Nylian’s wrist with my other hand and pulled him along with me. “Don’t you dare fucking leave me,” I snarled between clenched teeth.
For the first time since we met, his lips spread in a broad grin that was an even mix of amusement, mockery, and malice. That had been the asshole’s plan all along. Just drop me in the hands of whoever would take me and disappear. Well, that wasn’t happening. I wasn’t sure I felt all that safe with him, but it was a hell of a lot safer than with this quack.
“Don’t worry. He’s not going anywhere. Elf blood is good for fixing a person right up,” Mother Thistle announced dismissively as she shoved me into the chair. The woman was a lot stronger than she seemed.
“I’m not giving him my blood.”
“I’m not drinking his blood.” We spoke in unison.
“Pish posh, let me look at this handsome boy.”
Whatever we said to her went in one ear and immediately out the other. At least that matched my experiences in the real world. She clucked and muttered to herself under her breath as she peered into my eyes, up my nose, in my ears, and down my throat. Bony fingers pressed around my neck. Then she put her head against my chest to listen to my heart and lungs.
It was only when she wanted to inspect both of my palms that I had to release Nylian. I glared at the elf, pinning him in place with a severe look, daring him to make a break for it. While Mother Thistle was strong, I was feeling pretty confident that I could break free and catch Nylian before he got on his horse.
My companion waggled his dark-blond eyebrows at me, taunting.
“Ah…so that’s the problem,” Mother Thistle mumbled. I threw Nylian one more warning scowl and dragged my eyes to the old woman with a hunched back.
“What’s the problem?”
“Your soul has gotten out of alignment. You’ve recently suffered a significant physical blow or a scare in your life. It was enough to cause your soul to attempt to flee from your body,” Mother Thistle explained, and my heart stopped. That…actually sounded correct.
I had suffered a huge scare—a car had forced me off a bridge where I’d supposedly fallen to my death, but I’d gotten swept to this world instead. Not that I could explain that to either of these two people. It would sound like gibberish. I didn’t recall creating a world where the insane and possessed were burned at the stake, but I didn’t want to test that theory.
“If that’s the problem, how does he fix it?” Nylian demanded. The elf shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his arms crossed over his chest.
“That’s easy!” She lifted her hands and clapped. “Well, I mean, it’s easy for me to give you what you need, but it’s going to require diligence on your part, young man, if you want to make a full recovery.” She slipped around Nylian and over to a long table filled with colored vials and bottles. A scratching noise rose above her mutters as she moved things aside. Glass clinked against glass and a burst of flame went up, lightly singeing the already blackened ceiling beams.
Without looking away from her work, she held up a bottle containing a bright-orange powder and shook it twice. “You’ll need this powder here every morning with a cup of weak tea.” She shuffled about some more. “This is a poultice that needs to be placed behind your ears three times a day. It’ll coax your soul back into place. And I’ve got this powder to be mixed with your evening tea before going to sleep. Oh! You must burn this incense every night to keep your soul from trying to escape out of your mouth while you sleep.”
She gathered everything up in little packets and bundles, a wide grin on her face. Each brown paper package had instructions written in chicken scratch that I had zero hope of interpreting on my own. Not that I planned to ingest any part of this.
Yes, she’d correctly called the fact that I’d had a big scare recently. However, my memory was working fine. Or well enough, at least. The problem was that I couldn’t explain that to Nylian without him either killing me or leaving me behind.
Not good options.
I didn’t think I could fight him off if he tried to kill me.
And, right now, he was the only person I knew in this world. I had no memory of creating a character called Mother Thistle. In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure Nylian had stopped in Misty Pass in Betrayal of the Elf Prince. I might have altered his course. What I needed was a few quiet minutes alone to think and possibly figure out my next steps.