Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I look into my beloved’s deep green eyes when Andros unlocks the collar and pulls it off me.
Not that we’ve completed the marriage ritual, I was expecting to sense the warm embrace of his shadow, but instead lust spills into my heart, then drains down my body. It’s like a hit of fairy dust, and I can’t fight its intensity. My breath quickens, my heart beats faster, and my shadow seems to have gotten a mind of its own, because it pulls Luke closer before I can consider it myself. I’ve never experienced anything like it. My shadows are as voracious to lick and consume him as I am.
Luke chuckles and doesn’t put up a fight when my dark appendages grab his ass. “Hello to you too, husband dearest.”
I barely pay attention to the sudden silence around us, because when Luke’s lips touch mine, I’m his completely.
It’s impossible to miss Anatole hissing though, “You. Did. Not.”
A wicked chuckle crawls up my throat, and I hug Luke, turning to take in both the Goldweeds and Tristan, who waves at me with a silly smile.
“Oh, I did.”
Sylvan’s pale as he clutches the utility belt armed with all the potions in the world. He’s not too proud to ignore the fact that his already small chances of winning the contest have just become miniscule.
“But…. that’s an unfair advantage,” he says, frowning at Andros, who clears his throat and offers both my opponents a tight smile.
“Unfortunately, there is nothing in the rules of succession about treating a situation like this as anything special. You were both well within your rights to join your sister and procure Dark Companions of your own.”
“They were separated!” Anatole yells, pointing to us as if his tantrum can undo our bond. “Both had guards at their doors. How did this happen?”
Andros spreads his arms. “I do not know. They were both in their respective quarters in the morning.”
Luke bites back a smile. Unable to keep his hands to himself either, he wraps his arm around my waist.
“Well, then you can perish together.” Anatole glares at us, no longer bothering to keep up the mask of politeness. I don’t know if this is worse than his prostrating and groveling, or if I prefer to see his true face.
I glance at Sylvan’s tense features. “You can still back out of this.”
He flushes like an untouched bride on her wedding night. “No. I’ve made up my mind. You’re underestimating me, like everyone else, but when I’m crowned, I will change how things are done.” There’s a surprising amount of conviction in his voice. He really thinks he can win this.
Anatole squints at his brother. “A crown might make you a little taller, but not bigger where it counts,” he says and, in a gesture so vulgar I didn’t expect it in this setting, even from him, he glances at Sylvan’s crotch.
I might not like Sylvan, but I pity him now. These are the exact bully tactics my brother used over the years to make me feel like living in his shadow was my only choice. That if I ever showed my true self to anyone, they would despise me without exception. That I didn’t deserve respect or love just because of the order of our birth.
I can’t keep quiet.
“He’s the only sibling you have left,” I say, but before either of the brothers can respond, the crowd above and around us roars at the horn announcing the arrival of the leviathan.
I look back in time to see the pearly white hump glimmer above the surface as beaters chase him into the mouth of the arena, and the huge doors completing its circle rise above the water.
This is it. Sink or swim in its purest form, because if I don’t win, I don’t trust any of the brothers to keep me and Luke alive. If I lose, I’ll attempt to flee with my husband while there’s still commotion. Otherwise, we’re as good as dead.
Andros raises his arm, and I spot Sabine joining Tristan with flushed cheeks.
“There are three contenders for the throne!” Andros tells the excited crowd, amplifying his voice with a big Ostar shell. “Prince Kyra….n Nightweed, Prince Anatole Goldweed, and his brother, Prince Sylvan Goldweed. They will descend into the water on kelpies to prove their skill in facing a beast of the sea and attempt to remove a pearl from under the leviathan’s tongue. Whoever manages it first, and brings it to the chalice,” he makes an elegant gesture toward a large silver goblet in the middle of the royal box, “will become our new Lord. Until the pearl is in place, any means of winning are allowed.”
The last part sends a murmur through the crowd, and I’m all too aware of what this means. I might get the pearl but still have to watch out for Anatole stabbing me in the back to pry it out of my hands.