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)
The commander lifts his hand, and the soldiers fall silent before he speaks.
“He asks if this is our champion or our leader,” Dain translates.
“Close but no. He asked if Xaden is our champion or our prince. Don’t be embarrassed, Aetos. The words sound similar enough.” Aaric steps forward, then replies to the commander in what sounds like flawless Unnbrish.
My jaw drops, but he speaks too fast to understand anything other than “Navarre.”
Whatever he says gives the commander and the priestess pause before she replies, her gaze darting to me again.
“Are you fucking serious?” Dain snaps. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re fluent?”
“You never asked.” Aaric reaches for the pommel of his sword as he turns back to face us. “I told them who I am and that I’d be the one fighting.”
“You what?” My voice rises with my panic.
“I’m the one who needs the audience,” he replies. “I’m not my brother, nor my father, and I won’t hide while someone else—” He draws the first few inches of the sharpened steel.
“No!” I move toward him, but Xaden’s there first, covering Aaric’s hand.
“Prince or not, you’re a fucking first-year and we both know I can put you into the ground. Your tutors are no match for real-life experience.” He forces the sword back into its scabbard. “And no, you are not your father, nor your brother, which is precisely why you will not fight. We need you to live. Your kingdom needs you to live.” Xaden grabs the collar of Aaric’s uniform and pivots, forcing him back into line next to me. “Tell them I’m ready.”
Fuck, I don’t want either of them in that ring.
“Every possible path,” Andarna reminds me. “Even if my kind aren’t here, they may have seen them. May know of them.”
“Do not consider the Dark One,” Tairn chides. “Navarre needs the soldiers from this alliance to defend the borders, freeing the riders to go on the offensive.”
Either way, someone’s fighting.
“Same could be said for you.” Color rises along Aaric’s neck, and he shakes his head at Xaden.
“Tyrrendor is safe in Bodhi’s hands should I fall.” Xaden lowers his voice, and my stomach sours at the thought. “This isn’t about honor. Consider it your revenge. Remember what I did to your brother and tell them.”
Blood runs from my face. Xaden isn’t talking about Halden.
Aaric says something in Unnbrish, glaring at Xaden the entire time.
Xaden lets go of him, then checks with Dain.
“He said you’re the strongest,” Dain admits, then translates again as the commander begins to speak. “And they have chosen Costa as your opponent.”
One of the twins. I look past Xaden to see the warrior already standing in the middle of the plaza next to the priestess. He’s more terrifying up close than he had been walking down the steps. Thick neck. Huge arms. Gleefully menacing smile. He’s a walking arsenal, strapped with weaponry, and the scars up and down his tanned arms tell me he isn’t a stranger to pain. The assumption is confirmed when the priestess scores the back of his forearm with a dagger and he doesn’t so much as flinch.
Blood drips from the spot, spattering the dark stones beneath as the first rain drop hits my face, and the soldiers behind us cheer.
“That wasn’t in my father’s book.” My stomach sinks with suspicion of how those stones became the shade they are and the ever-growing fear that Xaden may have met his match.
“Incoming,” Dain announces, and Xaden turns to face the priestess as she approaches, passing by Marlis and Palta.
The tattoo of Dunne’s emblem inked into her forehead crinkles as she lifts her silver brows at Xaden and holds out her hand. “The Goddess of War demands her payment before you may prove your worth,” she says in the common language.
She must be at least seventy-five years old. How long would it take for such a tattoo to fade to the point it’s unrecognizable? My stomach lurches into my throat. There’s no way—
“Focus,” Tairn snaps like a frustrated professor.
Xaden shrugs out of his double scabbard, then his uniform top, leaving him in a short-sleeve undershirt as he holds out his left forearm. The high priestess draws the blade across his skin, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip as blood flows, then drops onto the stones beside his boots. This isn’t right. Every cell in my body rebels against the thought of him going out there alone. Xaden can’t read Costa’s intentions—he doesn’t have the edge his second signet gives him. The collar of my uniform feels too tight, the leather too sticky in the growing humidity, its warmth too suffocating. I tear at the top button, then shove my sleeves up my forearms as thunder sounds in the distance, mocking my inability to wield it.
I want my fucking power back now. With them, Xaden isn’t the deadliest in this plaza. I am. He’s only out there because of me, and I should be the one taking on this fight.