Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 702(@200wpm)___ 562(@250wpm)___ 468(@300wpm)
But as the elf pulls out the lava lamp and Sylvan’s hand tightens, I step forward. “Not this. Sentimental value.”
Sylvan swallows and looks up at me with the saddest puppy eyes I’ve ever seen. “No, it’s fine. He is right, you deserve to be treated like royalty, as that is what you will soon be.” When he turns to Fenren though, it’s as if he becomes a different person, the mask of dignity back on, and gaze sharp as daggers. “I need to keep a few trinkets and books, but other than that, all my possessions can be yours to keep. But do not think me a fool. We expect not only a celebration and lodgings, but also a guide to lead us to the Nocturne Court through the forest, and provisions for the trip. I have no doubt that someone who calls himself the King of Smugglers knows which routes are both safe and secretive.”
Fenren’s eyes narrow. “You strike a hard bargain, my prince. Very well,” he says and shakes Sylvan’s hand. The ease with which he agrees tells me he’s getting paid extra handsomely for his effort, but I decide not to mention it, because this is Sylvan’s moment, and I don’t want to embarrass him. I’m still a bit dazed about him willing to part with all the prized possessions I’d carried for him, just because he wants to treat me.
I watch Sylvan pack some items into the smaller bag while obscuring the Sunwolf crown with a shawl. I’m touched when I see him consider the jar with the redpole, only to take that too.
Fenren claps his hands and pulls a wide-skirted robe off the hanger. The lush dark blue fabric covers his undershirt and bare legs. His feet then go into leather slippers, and he opens the door, leading us out of his room. Initially, we’re in the tight channel of a hallway that likely belongs to his personal apartment, but then he takes us through a locked door, and the scenery changes.
I wouldn’t call the corridor palatial, since I manage to hit my head on the first beam in the way, but it’s definitely something straight from a fancy fantasy tavern. Only that the dark stone making up the floor and walls is real rather than made of Styrofoam.
I take the moment while we walk to arrange it all in my head. Everything I’ve experienced since meeting Sylvan is like a lucid dream and I hope I’ll never wake up. I’m no longer a fugitive, and I’ll be at Sylvan’s side and help him however I can with his plan of regaining his position at this Nocturne Court.
He first chose me for my shadow, but we’ve been through so much since that fateful night at Best Burgers Bonanza. Our feelings for each other are real. I might be a toppy guy, the kind of person who wants to protect those he loves. But it’s nice to be treated for once and for someone else to not just talk about their love, but to show it. Like I’m worthy of it. Like I’m not just a convenient means to an end, a big dick, or useful for my fists.
I can’t wait to explore this elven world alongside my perfect little prince and taste all it has to offer. I still haven’t wrapped my mind around us having a forever, and a part of me fears that it’s not Sylvan but me who’s having a mental breakdown and imagining things that aren’t there.
As we continue past numbered doors, toward a wide arch where the corridor leads into a more open space, I hear an unfamiliar melody, the murmur of many voices, and sense the aroma of grilled meat. A woman passes us in clothes that, while black as night, remind me of the one Ren Faire I’ve been to. She’s holding a platter with something the size of an ostrich leg on a bed of root vegetables and mushrooms. The skin on that meat looks so crispy my mouth waters.
“We will eat soon,” Sylvan says and strokes my hand.
I’m embarrassed by my voracity, but it’s still sweet of him to pay attention to my needs without me even saying anything.
Fenren doesn’t give me any time to contemplate a snack break and steps beneath the bright light of a massive chandelier made of bone and antler.
Green flames, like the ones I’ve already seen in the caves, burn all over it, illuminating the mezzanine around the whole interior, and the bar below. Curious eyes begin to follow us, but Fenren is already ushering us through a door adorned with a silvery moon instead of a number.
“Rest please, and soon I will send a tailor. I have much to prepare.” And even though he’s a self-proclaimed king, Fenren still bows to Sylvan.