Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 235897 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1179(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 786(@300wpm)
“Wow,” Cat whispers as the uniformed guards filter in behind us, taking positions along the sides of the plaza as we move toward the darker stones between the terraced seats.
Blue-robed attendants rise on the temple steps, and my footsteps falter.
Every single one of them has silver hair.
Not gray.
Not white.
Silver.
Guardians are no longer permitted to dedicate children in service to their favored deity. The decision to serve the gods for life must be made after the age of majority and of one’s free will.
—Public Notice 200.417 Transcribed by Racel Lightstone
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“Are you dizzy?” Xaden asks in a low whisper.
“No.” My gaze jumping from one attendant to the next as we walk toward them. They all have different heights, shapes, genders, and skin tones, but their hair color is as uniform as their blue robes.
One of the attendants on the top step claps her hands, and a group of children in light-blue tunics runs out from behind the statue of Dunne to race up the steps toward her. My gaze locks on the last of them, a girl who looks to be no more than ten. The brunette’s silver-tipped braid swings against her back as she scoops up a younger child and is ushered inside.
Breath abandons me as she disappears.
“Violet,” Xaden whispers. “Her hair—”
“I know.” I wobble, and he steadies me with a hand on my lower back.
Never in my twenty-one years have I seen anyone with hair like mine. Does hers always end in silver no matter how short she cuts it? Do her joints fail her? Do her bones break? I need to know. I have to know.
The cavalry captain shouts up at the walls as Tairn prowls above us, and the attendants all draw blades from the belts at their waists, jarring me from my spiraling thoughts.
“He said, ‘I’ve brought them,’” Dain translates from Xaden’s left as we form a straight line on the cusp of what feels like a theater floor. Or a battle briefing stage.
“The blades are cute,” Tairn remarks.
“The hair,” I reply. “Her hair looked like mine.”
“Survive first so you can be curious later. Focus.”
Metal creaks, and a gate rises above the highest row on our left. A moment later, two people step out of the tunnel.
“Xaden’s opponent?” I ask Tairn.
“Not unless he’s fighting an aging general and a high priestess.”
The middle-aged man with graying hair and rich brown skin on the left boasts the same uniform as the silver-dressed guards, and the older, light-skinned woman at his side wears not only the long pale blue robes of the temple attendants but a sword sheathed at her hip.
Her narrowed gaze sweeps over us, then fixes on me as the man calls out in Unnbrish at her left.
“He says he is the commander of the guard and asks if we truly wish an audience with their queen,” Dain translates.
“Tell him we do, and we will comply with their customs to get it,” I answer, sending up a prayer to Dunne that Xaden is ready for this.
Dain translates slowly, and the pair moves down the steps as the cavalry captain climbs to join them. The captain reports, and the commander’s mouth flattens before he draws his dagger and slices through the shoulder straps of the captain’s leather armor.
The green leather falls to the steps, and the captain lowers his head.
“I think that means demotion,” Cat whispers to Aaric’s right.
“In every language,” Aaric agrees.
The commander’s voice booms across the plaza and echoes off the rock as he descends the steps, and Dain translates as quickly as he can.
“‘All we can achieve is death, but to…’” Dain pauses. “Shit, I think he said to provide our strongest warriors, and they will test our worthiness to speak with their queen.”
Xaden nods. “Tell him I’m ready.”
Dain repeats the message, and the commander claps twice. Three bare-armed soldiers step out of the tunnel, and my chest tightens. The woman in the middle has to be the same height as Sawyer, if not Dain, and the bulky men flanking her tower above with the same height difference I have with Xaden. I think they’re twins.
The chill that races down my spine has nothing to do with the gusting wind or the disappearance of the sun behind the storm clouds overhead.
“Maybe we should rethink this strategy,” Cat whispers.
Yeah, I’m with her for once.
“What you call strategy, they call law,” Xaden replies.
My heart beats faster with every step the warriors descend behind their commander and the high priestess of the temple. By the time they reach the plaza, a hummingbird could time its wings to my pulse.
“Costa!” the guards along the walls cry out, and the warrior on the right lifts his muscle-laden arms.
“Marlis!” the rest of the guards shout, and the woman raises her chin.
“Palta!” Another chorus sounds, and the twin on the left cracks his neck.