Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 690(@200wpm)___ 552(@250wpm)___ 460(@300wpm)
I wanted to drag my feet, but I couldn’t. I was late (apparently, preparing for dinner like a woman not Nadirii took a great deal of time—how did all the Firenz, Airenzian and Dellish do it?).
I was also getting later by the second. And worse, it would already appear I was because I was avoiding this. If I was any later, it’d appear my wish was to avoid it altogether.
I was Nadirii.
I regularly clashed with brigands and highwaymen and sorcerers and Airenzian masters in search of their escaped wives (or lovers, servants, etcetera), and the like, all attempting to breach The Enchantments for nefarious purposes.
This could get perilous.
And Jazz, Hera and I always bested it.
Therefore, I could face a dinner with a man who did not want me, but had to wed me, doing this being scrutinized by kings, queens, princes and priests.
On my way down the stairs, I squared my shoulders, and I was ready by the time I turned left and made my way along the hall to where we were to meet for before-dinner beverages.
I moved into the room that had a low din of conversation and an overabundance of bodies, and at once, I longed for the forest.
There were a goodly number of Nadirii.
But we had a lot of space.
Regardless, if you were up in your tree, surrounded by green, you could fancy yourself the only woman in the world.
I did not look for him when I entered.
Instead, I searched for my touchstone, and found her.
My mother, standing covered in a golden tunic that went down to her ankles, but was slashed up each side to her knees. It had radiant coral beading from short sleeve to short sleeve across the split collar. She was talking with Queen Elpis and Silence’s mother, Vanka Mattson.
Her hair was also up.
It was nice to know I made the right decision with that.
I moved farther into the room and stopped when a young boy asked, “Bere, principessa?”
“Scintille, per favore,” I ordered sparkles to drink.
The boy moved away.
I felt attention, turned my head cautiously, and saw my sister staring at me from across the room.
She had a curl in her lip.
The instant she caught my eyes, hers dropped to my hem, then came back up, and the curl deepened.
“Elena?”
I looked to my side at the call.
And up.
Directly into True’s beautiful green eyes.
And immediately had the thought that I wished I’d at least kissed him before our dream turned to ash.
True was a gentleman to his bones. He would not take a kiss from a woman who did not offer that any sooner than he’d cut off his own arm.
Thus, I should have found the courage to offer.
Or stolen one myself.
All right.
Maybe I couldn’t make it through this dinner.
“True,” I whispered.
“By the gods,” his eyes were moving down my body and he did it very much without a curl in his lip. They came back to my face. “You look lovely, Ellie.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, wondering if that boy would take very long with my drink.
This was difficult and awkward and definitely impossible without a glass of sparkles.
I sensed True go alert, and when he did, I focused on him again to see he was looking over my shoulder.
At the exact same moment, my elbow was seized.
Yes.
It was seized.
What on…?
I started to turn my head to see who had a hold on me.
“True,” I heard growled.
I froze at the sound.
“Cassius,” True returned, his face going hard.
I then found myself being marched right back out of the room with that hand tight on my elbow.
Once in the hall, I looked up at the stony face of my intended.
I had the side not inked.
It was still fascinating.
However, I could not dwell on that considering I was being towed not of my volition down a hall.
How was this happening?
I opened my mouth to speak at the same time I was going to pull my arm from his grip.
However, it was also the time he turned us, opened a door, tugged me inside, closed the door (or more accurately, slammed it), and he did not carry on pulling me into the room.
He shoved me to the side, against the wall by the door, stepped in so I had no choice but to retreat—this being nowhere as my back hit the wall—and he pinned me in with his body and his hands to the wall on either side of me.
“Did that…did you…did that just—?” I stammered angrily to his throat.
But I stopped speaking when I lifted my eyes to his furious face.
“And now that I have you to myself, we shall talk,” he rumbled.
I was breathing heavily and wondering how appropriate it would be—during ceremonial events in royal palaces that marked historical happenings that were designed to save our continent and ally all nations—to attack my future husband.