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)
But he’d meant for me to hear every single one he said.
An ache unfolds behind my ribs. That’s why Xaden is so peaceful, so driven here. He’s putting the pieces in place, training his replacement. He’s accepted a different future than the one I envision as I walk these halls and continue following every possible path to a cure.
Xaden strides the length of the table, and Brennan pushes back, his chair squeaking against the floor of the dais.
“There’s a stack of things requiring your signature on the desk in the study,” Brennan says, intercepting Xaden. “And these came for you.” He retrieves two missives from his front pocket and hands them over. “Oh, and I’d love to know why the King of Deverelli referred to my sister as your consort in his last offer.”
“I’d say it’s a long story, but it’s really not.” A corner of Xaden’s mouth rises, and he takes the missives.
Gods, I love that arrogant, wicked, sexy little smirk. How in this world does he think I’m supposed to live without seeing it every day?
“Right.” Brennan shakes his head and leaves the hall.
“How was your day, love?” Xaden asks, breaking the wax seals on both parchments.
“Is that what you’re doing?” I ask, leaning forward on the table. “Preparing for your own demise?”
“Mine was interesting.” He ignores my question and reads over the first letter, then frowns at the second. “Flew out to the cliffs to check on the evacuation, which is going slower than we estimated.” His eyes meet mine as he shoves the letters into his pocket and walks up the steps. “And now, Melgren warns me not to fly into battle or we’ll lose—just a few days late with that warning, but the high priestess of Dunne’s temple has written to say that Dunne holds you and Rhiannon in her regard, and that she is in my debt and owes me whatever favor I see fit.” He pushes Brennan’s chair aside, then leans on the edge of the table, facing me. “So how was your day?”
He wants to exchange pleasantries? Fine.
“I read a book on the emergence of venin. Almost managed to split a bolt in three, but my accuracy was questionable. Two seems pretty solid. And I managed runes that both harden surfaces”—I arch a brow—“and soften them. Are you preparing for your own demise?”
“Yes.” He slides his hands into his pockets. “But I’m not embracing the fall, if that’s what you’re thinking. I won’t give up a single day I have with you. Not without a fight.”
Days. Not weeks or months or even years. I’m hit with the sudden urge to never sleep again, to use every minute I have with him. “Do you want to go sit on the roof?”
“I had something else in mind.” He glances toward the throne.
“Yes, please.” I flick my wrist and shut the door using lesser magic, then lock it.
His smile instantly becomes a core memory.
If Tyrrendor does not immediately restore the flow of Talladium, the consequences will be dire not only for the province but the Continent. This is not a request—it is an order from your king.
—Official Correspondence of His Majesty, King Tauri the Wise, to His Grace, Lieutenant Xaden Riorson, Sixteenth Duke of Tyrrendor
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Istand in the field in front of Draithus, surrounded by the peaks of snow-topped mountains, and even though I shouldn’t, I take the first step toward the city. I’m too far. I’ll never reach Tairn, and he’s my only chance at finding her.
Battle erupts in the sky over its spiral tower, and the outlines of wings pop through the ominous clouds hovering over the canyons to the south before descending into darkness once more. The storm gives me the one thing I can never really afford—hope. The rain might make flying a pain in the ass, but it will give her the edge she needs.
Fire erupts along the high walls, and flames of blue and green rise, climbing the guard towers like ivy. Shit. I have to get there now. I can put it out. Shadow beats flame every time.
My footsteps falter, and I pause.
Shadow?
I don’t wield shadows. Xaden does.
My body fights to lurch forward, to run toward the city, but I shouldn’t continue across this field. It only ever ends one way, with the Sage yanking me into the air—
This is Xaden’s dream. Awareness prickles the back of my neck.
I’m in Xaden’s dream.
The realization does something that feels like a snap across the back of my skull. Suddenly, I’m no longer a part of him as he takes off running ahead of me, dressed for battle.
“Xaden!” I shout before he can make it a half dozen steps.
He stops, then slowly turns to face me in the grass-covered field. His eyes widen when he spots me, then narrow as he glances left, then right. “You shouldn’t be here.”