Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
One boat was out of the water and sat on wooden stilts. The two elves and the witch climbed aboard and got straight to work. The metal was rusted, the paint peeling off. Baker approached and handed me some gloves, alongside a scraper and a cloth.
“You can help those two remove the rusty paintwork,” he said, gesturing to Vasilios and Sven. Both stood at the far end of the boat, quietly working on the exterior, their backs to us. By the tense set of Vasilios’s shoulders, I got the sense that he was listening to what Baker said.
Bristling, I took the proffered items and approached the boat.
I made sure to stand a few yards away from Vasilios and Sven, working on a separate section. They were both still going out of their way to ignore me, and I had too much pride to try and make conversation. I knew the whole point of my being there was to get close to Vasilios, but I’d only just arrived, and I wasn’t ready to start chit-chatting with him yet. Besides, I was annoyed by the silent treatment. That night when he’d revealed his true identity to me, it seemed like he could talk forever. Now, it was the opposite—utter silence.
My entire body ached, my injuries still unhealed. I needed blood to get back to fighting form. The problem was that there was no one there I could feed from. I’d hoped feeding from Peter before I’d left would see me through. Unfortunately, I hadn’t anticipated being attacked by a gang of bloodthirsty vampires the moment I set foot inside the prison.
The guards stood by the wall to supervise us, and I screwed up my face as I scraped away sections of rusted paint covered in barnacles. Well, at least I’d been given a set of gloves to work with. Vasilios and Sven were talking quietly to one another, and I strained my ears to listen.
“Wonder what she did,” Sven pondered.
“I don’t care. It’s not our business,” Vasilios muttered dispassionately in response, and I frowned.
If he set me up, then he obviously knew why I was there. Maybe it was part of the act, feigning ignorance, so I wouldn’t suspect he was behind the whole thing. Gritting my teeth, I continued working, every part of me protesting at the strain it put on my body. I scraped the rusty parts and wiped them away with the cloth. I wasn’t entirely sure I was doing it right, but it seemed to be getting the paint off, so I kept ploughing ahead.
We’d been going at it for about two hours when one of the guards announced, “Okay, take a five-minute break.”
In relief, I went to sit on the ground next to an old anchor that was just as rusty as the boat we’d been working on. I rubbed at my leg where it hurt. Standing for an extended period of time could be tiring, even if you weren’t injured. I massaged the aching tissue and sensed someone’s attention.
Glancing up, I found Vasilios standing with the other prisoners as they took turns filling paper cups with water from a small drinking fountain. He was staring at me, his eyebrows drawn together, his expression furious. The fierceness in his bright blue eyes startled me, and I suddenly felt immensely irritated. His plan had worked, hadn’t it? As far as he knew, I was imprisoned for a crime I didn’t commit, so why was he still so angry? He looked like he wanted to murder me, and I felt like telling him if he kept frowning like that, the wind might change, and his stupid, handsome face would get stuck that way.
Yes, I could admit he was handsome, despite the scarring and the horns. Well, the horns weren’t precisely ugly, but they were certainly menacing.
I dropped my gaze and continued rubbing my shin until the guard told us our break was over and we could resume working. I stood and returned to the boat. I’d made a fair amount of headway, which meant I was standing substantially closer to Vasilios. There were only a handful of feet between us, and it was impossible not to be aware of his presence. He beamed his hatred at me with the heat of a thousand suns.
I regretted not taking the opportunity to get some water because I was suddenly parched. My arm ached from scrubbing and scraping away the rust, and the places where I’d been bitten felt raw and bruised. I paused and glanced over at the guards. Neither of them was paying me any attention, so I took the opportunity to go to the water fountain and get a drink. I was almost there when the male guard cleared his throat.
“Where do you think you’re going, inmate?”
I coughed, then replied, “I just need some water.”