Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Your kind?
The highborn and gentry and above. The nobles, you’d say. The upper class, even. My kind doesn’t seek out the mysterious places of this land. They don’t communicate with the lesser fae and certainly don’t lower themselves to encounter the faeries and wyld things that make this land thrive. And that leads me to the real dangers of this realm. The really scary places that will take more than vigilance to survive. It’ll take cunning and planning, backstabbing and betrayals. Alliances, many of whose throats you’d cut if needed.
The courts, she surmised.
Yes. The courts, ruled by the various thrones making up Faerie, and no court is as cunning, as conniving, as that ruled by the Obsidian Throne.
That sounded a lot like the dealings of Demigods in the human realm. She filed that away for future reflection.
How do you know of these secret wyld places? she asked, her side throbbing. Fuck, that poison was intense.
I have traveled all over this realm seeking the chalices. Before I knew the most powerful of them had been hidden in the human realm, I sought them in my lands.
The most powerful…were hidden? By whom?
He pointed to the right. She barely registered a path leading away. It was only after she had changed their trajectory that he answered.
By past Celestial kings and queens. The legends say that the gods would not destroy their objects of power, and so the Celestial High Sovereign hid them across the Great Barrier—the fringe—never to be found and used against their kind.
Which never works.
In the end, it seems not.
And so all you did was follow the breadcrumbs.
That is an enormous oversimplification, which discounts all the many hours I spent under the guidance of the most boring scribe ever to walk the enchanted lands—which is saying something, because they are all mind-numbing—but sure, I followed breadcrumbs.
She felt a smile bud through the pain, barely able to feel her legs now.
I’m starting to question whether the poison that touched my skin is actually fatal, she reflected.
I can’t feel my legs at all. I’m telling them to move, and it seems to be working, but they also seem like a separate part of me.
Oh. Well, I’m not so bad off as that. Good news.
For you, yes. Unless I die. Then you’re equally fucked.
Very likely. At least she had the disgruntled wylds to keep her company. They really did hope she tripped on one of the rocks.
The embankment rose on both sides, the trees not having changed but the leaves growing fuller on the branches. Ivy wrapped around the trunks of some, and as she watched, the vines uncurled slowly. They sensed visitors and wanted to check them out, maybe claim a prize for the trees that were so fond of squeezing creatures to death and drinking the spoils.
This place is going to drive me mad, I think, she whispered, realizing belatedly that it was a thought and not actual words. I wonder if Lewis Caroll took a trip through Faerie before he penned his stories.
I don’t know who that is.
She crinkled her nose as a mysterious echo ghosted by the trees. Not a sound so much as a whisper of a thought. A dark and murderous desire as yet unvoiced.
Don’t bother. She was still mentally whispering. Being used to all this, you’ll probably find it boring. I might be changing my mind about how scary this place is.
He didn’t respond, and the images in his mind, having gone from the wylds to the court they’d be heading toward, had stopped. He staggered, stumbling more frequently, and reached out with his bad hand to brace on things that weren’t there.
How much longer? she asked in alarm.
He shook his head, breathing too fast, pushing himself on. She could feel it in his lean forward, his desire to go faster. She complied, taking more of his weight, wilting under the onslaught.
Up ahead, peeking out through dense vegetation and half nestled into a little berm, dull brown wood announced a structure. Tarian reached for the door when they were still a ways off, grabbing for the handle.
Almost there, she said softly, clutching the presence of his mind within hers and trying to keep it with her so he didn’t drift away entirely. She didn’t know if that was possible or if it was working, but it made her feel like she was doing more than shambling and lurching toward their hopeful safe haven. Just a little farther.
He barely nodded, his head drooping. Then his back bowed, still oozing gruesomely. She pushed on, breathing heavily with his weight, refusing to allow her legs to buckle. She could still at least feel them…kinda. She willed herself forward. A little faster.
He mumbled something.
What? she asked.
He mumbled something else, the words not taking shape, barely reaching her ears. His hand came out again, flexing. The presences around them, the voices and feelings, the creepy sensations and negative motives, fell away. Scattered. She barely heard or felt them now. Instead, warmth existed in front of her. That was what it felt like, anyway, as if they were marching through a blizzard and a fire roared just up ahead. The colors softened, or her perception of them did, and the feelings grew welcoming.