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)
Laughter and chattering voices filtered to us from a room beyond. The doorway was framed by twisting branches and greenery. It was a shock to the system to be in a place so brimming with nature when I’d spent the last week downstairs amidst nothing but stone walls and concrete floors. The place was so alive it felt like we’d been transported somewhere far, far away.
We entered what appeared to be a large dining room. A sprawling table had been set for almost a hundred guests, and there was an odd contrast between the lavishness of our surroundings and the fact that everyone wore the same red jumpsuit. We should be decked out in gowns and tuxedos for such an affair, not prison garb.
I recognised a few faces among the attendees. There was Serg, a few other shapeshifters, Cassandra, and the elves. I spotted a tall, thin woman with long brown hair serving wine from a glass jug. It was Lara, the elf whose cell was next to mine. I hadn’t seen her around much since that initial conversation. Now I realised she was one of Sarasin’s servants.
She caught my eye, and for a second, she looked impressed that I was there. Obviously, only the most powerful prisoners were chosen to attend. Then she shot me a grin and a wink before she continued serving wine to the guests. Soft harp music played, but I had no idea where it was coming from because there was no musician present nor seemingly any record player or stereo system. Then I realised it was somehow emanating from the plants, and an eery sensation skipped slowly down my spine. I understood the magic of witches and warlocks, but elven magic was something else entirely. The thorn tattoos weren’t as effective at blocking it, though it wasn’t much of a concern because elven magic was considered less volatile and more holistic. But being able to do all that further cemented the idea that Sarasin was no ordinary prisoner.
“Stop staring and sit down,” Vasilios spoke low in my ear, his heat at my back. I ignored the tingle at the nape of my neck and followed him to two empty seats near the end of the long table. At the other end, there was another empty seat, and I presumed that was where Sarasin would sit at the head of the table. He wasn’t yet present, and my curiosity to see what he looked like increased.
“Where is our host?” I whispered softly, and Vasilios cast me a glance.
“I’m sure he’ll make an appearance sooner or later.”
Suddenly, Lara was at my shoulder, filling my glass with red wine. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said curiously.
“She came as my guest,” Vasilios explained, and Lara nodded.
“Ah, I see. Well, enjoy yourselves. You’re in for an interesting night.”
She filled Vasilios’s glass and was about to leave when I said, “Wait, do you have any advice for us? Neither of us has been here before.”
Lara glanced from me to Vasilios. There was a long pause before she finally bent, speaking low so only we could hear, “Don’t be too loud and boisterous but don’t be overly deferential either. Sarasin admires those who are confident and speak their minds, but he doesn’t like blowhards. So try and find a healthy balance.”
With that, she left, and I shared a look with Vasilios. “So, confident but not too deferential?” I whispered.
“Shouldn’t be too hard,” he replied just as several more guests arrived. I glanced over my shoulder, my expression hardening when I spotted Mack and Vincent alongside a few other vampires. Mack was linking arms with Vincent, a tiny pixie on the arm of a giant beast.
“Tonight’s my night. I can feel it in the air,” Mack declared loudly as she entered, garnering the entire room's attention. “Oh, yes, I’m going to get Sarasin’s Gift tonight. I just know it.”
“If anyone deserves it, it’s you,” Vincent told her like the simpering lapdog he was.
Mack’s attention fell on me as she and Vincent found their seats. I bristled under her keen attention. Thankfully, the table was wide enough that we wouldn’t be forced to interact. Mack’s eyes turned to slits as she stared me down, but she didn’t address me directly. Instead, she sat and continued talking loudly with Vincent, going on and on about how she’d been attending the gatherings for years and how Sarasin couldn’t possibly overlook her for the Gift yet again. Her time had finally come.
Well, if Lara was telling the truth about Sarasin disliking loud, blowhard types, then I understood why Mack had never been chosen for the Gift. I was distracted from her bragging when movement passed behind me. I turned my head to see Monica, the demon who lusted after Vasilios. She ran her sharp nails lightly across his shoulder before sinking into the seat on the other side of him. As far as I could tell, she hadn’t brought a guest.