Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
“You came here,” I mumble into his tunic.
“To quietly assess the situation.” His murmuring combs through my hair. “Olyn told me you were in the cottages.”
I nod and, head heavy on his shoulder, stare at the branches stretching towards the sky.
His chest rises, holds as if he wants to add something, and falls again wordlessly. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear and keeps his fingers against the side of my head. Warmth against my cold ear. He exhales softly, the sound more grounding than any words he might say.
For a moment, the luminarium, the sickness, the world fades away, leaving the two of us, silently drawing strength from each other in this ancient tree.
Golden leaves rustle in a gentle symphony, and I don’t feel the wind at all. There’s only his warm presence chasing away the cold. I close my eyes.
Too soon, the beat of hooves over earth has me pulling my gaze around. It doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the direction of Olyn’s horse. Quin sits straighter, alert. My heart quickens at a crimson-cloaked figure on horseback, emerging from the trees. I haul in a sharp breath. That’s my horse. The one I’d bought chasing Quin here. The one stolen from me.
The silent figure is Megaera.
On a gasp, I slide out of the tree and stand in front of Quin, ready to shield him from whatever she’ll try next. Why won’t she stop? Can’t she at least bide her revenge until the people here are freed from this?
My teeth clamp tight with rage.
The horse stops a few yards from us, and I shift, ready to cast a shield.
Quin speaks behind me. “She’s not here to attack.”
As he says it, Megaera tumbles off the horse into a heap on the ground. Her hood is thrown off her face, revealing damp, fevered skin and unfocused eyes. She calls my name on a rattling breath.
It’s instinctive and it’s cruel, but suddenly I want her to feel fear. Want her to regret. It’s a thorny, wild feeling. It goes against all my principles, and yet it claims me. I won’t tolerate anyone hurting the king.
She has not cared for his difficulties during her quest for vengeance. Why should I care for hers now?
“She’s still one of my people,” Quin murmurs, his words calm and clear and resolute.
I bristle, my hands clenching at my sides. “She—”
“It doesn’t matter.” His gaze locks onto mine, firm and steady. “I won’t let you lose yourself over her.”
The words hit like a quiet rebuke. A warning for me to look deep into myself—a hand offered for me to take, to steer me back onto my path.
He hasn’t ordered me to aid her. He’s simply reminded me to be the person I long to be.
I draw in a shaky breath, hesitating as she struggles. Pleads—
I scramble over tree roots and grass to her side. Her cloak is sweated through, and her pulse is erratic. She must have been infected for days. Was this why she’d tried to follow me? She was sick all this time, chasing after the faint hope I’d help her.
I need to get her inside, wash her down, give her water. I scoop her into a sitting position. She’s too weak to help me. Quin comes behind me and I throw an arm up, stopping him. His leg can’t tolerate helping her move. I fumble through the grass for a fallen stick and cast it before the horse, spooking it into a neigh and a run. The ruckus brings a few men with lanterns towards the trees, and I call out to them.
With their help, I get Megaera to a cottage and make her comfortable. Olyn brings a selection of capsules and I take them with a forced smile, stomach restless. These are nothing.
Behind her, coming through the door, men are carrying another critical patient. I glance over her shoulder to see the farmer Quin and I hitched a ride with. From scratching in the fields, to deathly pale and limp.
I swallow. More and more will become critical during the night.
Olyn wipes the back of her hand over her forehead—
I catch a glimpse of something up her sleeve and snatch her wrist. My eyes snap from her arm to her tight swallow.
She tugs her sleeve lower over patches of glistening skin.
“You need to rest.”
“I’ve a good day of work left in me,” she says lightly, but I detect a nervous lilt. “Until then, I can help others.”
I assess her condition. She has less than a day. And less still if she continues to exhaust herself.
I call in a volunteer, and one of Bastion’s men responds. Good, someone intimidating. “Make sure Olyn doesn’t lift another finger.”
I shuffle her to a chair and race to the door, my blood pounding.
“Where are you going?” she calls, and the door slams shut behind me.