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 books are only for you,” Narelle confirms, and Leona perches on the arm of her mother’s chair. “I have three simple questions, and if you’re capable of answering them, the books are yours.”
“Arrogant to think you have any right to keep something our father wrote for Violet based on your judgment.” Mira’s tone could grate stone.
“It’s fine,” I assure her, refusing to waver, even in this heat. “Ask.”
Narelle shoots my sister a withering look and then turns her attention to me. “He left a manuscript for you. What is the title?”
“Subjugated: The Second Uprising of the Krovlan People by Lieutenant Colonel Asher Sorrengail,” I answer. “Which you already know that I know. How else would I be here?”
She taps her forefinger in obvious impatience. “In chapter fourteen, your father alludes to the Krovlan uprising falling apart because of Deverelli but does not go into specifics. Any”—her gaze skims over my black uniform—“scribe worth her wisdom wouldn’t have been satisfied with his speculation. So tell me, what’s your hypothesis?”
Out of everything in the book, that’s what she asks?
“Easy. Krovla didn’t keep their part of whatever deal they made with Deverelli. Rather than lose their reputation, Deverelli withdrew their brokerage, hence the removal of the other isle’s troops, and then told the Poromish king regent where to find the rebels. End of rebellion.” I shrug.
“Not good enough.” She shakes her head, and my stomach sinks. “Why did it fall apart? What was brokered?”
“That’s not fair—” Dain starts.
Narelle lifts a hand, demanding his silence. “She knows the answer.”
I sigh. “I…have an idea. I just don’t like being wrong.” Or, in this case, right.
“You’re among friends.” Her smile implies otherwise.
Fine. Sweat drips down the back of my neck, but I gather up the courage to look like a fool. “I think they promised dragons and couldn’t deliver.”
“They what?” Mira squawks.
Xaden tenses, and Dain pivots fully to face me, his eyes impossibly wide, but Narelle’s slow smile tells me I’m either horrifically wrong—or tragically right.
“Present your proof,” she says in a tone that reminds me eerily of Markham. “Convince that one.” She points to Dain.
I tighten my grip on Xaden’s hand, and his thumb strokes over mine. “Public Notice 433.323 acknowledges a failed border breach attempt by Krovlan forces near the outpost of Athebyne on December eleventh, 433 AU, two days before the Midnight Massacre. The only other record of that event exists in the journal of Colonel Hashbeigh, the commander of the outpost, who oversaw the interrogations.” I look over at Dain. “Dad drilled that into me while he was working on the manuscript, and I didn’t understand why then, but obviously I get it now. I think it was the year you were obsessed with the tactics of defeating Emerald Sea piracy or something.”
Dain stiffens. “It was a really big problem in the fifth century.”
I keep from rolling my eyes. “Stay with me here. We were on the couch. Dad was pacing in front of the fire, and you thought it was ludicrous that the soldiers had crossed into Navarre to acquire tailfeathers, remember?”
He winces. “Right. Yes. And your father told me I was a lost cause if I ever wanted to take the entrance exam for the Scribe Quadrant if I couldn’t remember to apply my superior linguistics skills to all areas of analyzing important historical data. Not that I ever wanted to be a scribe, but still. Good times. Thank you for the reminder.”
“Is this going somewhere, or are we just enjoying a moment of nostalgia?” Xaden asks.
“Apply your superior linguistics skills, Dain,” I prompt him. “The interrogation was recorded in the common tongue—”
Dain’s eyes widen. “But the raiders spoke Krovlish, and descriptors follow nouns in Krovlish. They were hunting feathertails. Dragons.”
I nod. “I think Deverelli brokered a deal with Krovla and an unnamed isle that the isle would provide the army and Krovla would provide dragons. When they were unable to do so, the deal fell apart, the Midnight Massacre happened, and Krovla remained a part of Poromiel.”
Dain folds his arms across his chest. “They were dealing in dragons.” He looks over to Narelle. “I believe her. It’s just going to take me a minute to absorb it. One does not just…deal in dragons, let alone take babies to isles that don’t have magic. Not when you risk the wrath of the Empyrean.”
“Oh, wait until you realize that your dad knows my dad’s book has something to do with feathertails, which means Dad knew to stop trusting him at some point,” I add.
Dain’s face swings my way, and his stricken expression makes me wish I could take the words back.
“Third question,” Narelle announces, and it feels particularly cruel, given what she’s just put me through.
“Ask it.” My tone leaves something to be desired.
“What made you leave the prince?” She tilts her head to the side, and her eyes light up like we’ve gathered for tea and gossip.