Total pages in book: 401
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 390373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1952(@200wpm)___ 1561(@250wpm)___ 1301(@300wpm)
“Even you?” I questioned.
Reaver nodded.
“But you can fly.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Reaver muttered.
“Are you sure staying is what you want?” Casteel asked Kieran.
“It’s one hundred percent what I want,” he replied. His eyes narrowed on me when I started to smile. “And when you return, you and I are going to discuss you traveling to another realm by yourself.”
My smile faded.
Kieran smirked as Casteel slid on a leather baldric. “Yeah, I haven’t forgotten about that.”
I sighed as I tugged on my other boot and then stood. Casteel sheathed a blade on his chest, and we walked out to where Reaver waited in the wide, empty hall.
Kieran turned to me and clasped the back of my head. “Be careful,” he said, pressing his lips against my forehead. “You only just returned to us.”
My eyes closed and my chest squeezed at the sound of his voice, low and rough with emotion.
“Poppy?” he pressed.
I cleared my throat. “I will be.”
Straightening, he gave Casteel a curt nod before walking away. He made it a few steps before stopping, his shoulders rising as he stiffly turned his head toward Reaver. “I hope your friend is as well as she can be.”
Reaver’s jaw loosened as he stared in silence. “Thank you,” he said roughly.
What Kieran said to Reaver surprised me, but that wasn’t what had my stomach suddenly twisting into knots.
“Poppy?” Casteel said quietly.
Blinking, I dragged my gaze from Kieran’s retreating back and looked at him.
Concern filled his gaze. “You okay?”
I thought I said yes, but my heartbeat pounded as I ran through everything that had happened since Kieran entered the chamber—every glance between Casteel and him. There hadn’t been many, even during supper, though I thought they had acted normally. But when I thought back, I realized they hadn’t really spoken to each other about much outside of plans for the kingdom—at least not out loud. Kieran had told me nothing was going on, and I had wondered if maybe he’d been telling the truth, but thinking back on it now, it had been as if they barely knew each other. And the whole interaction had been…tense.
Which wasn’t normal.
It should’ve come as no surprise that Casteel not only wanted to try his hand at shadowstepping but excelled at it.
I guessed the Fates really did have a reason to be worried about him following me to the other realm.
“Setti is going to be even angrier with me,” Casteel said as the silver flicker of eather faded behind us, revealing the citadel’s entrance hall. “Because I’m not sure how one could travel on horseback after that.”
“I know. I’m going to be incredibly lazy now,” I said, looking around. I sensed the presence of a draken but knew Reaver hadn’t arrived yet.
Remembering Kieran’s horrified expression, I grinned as I looked around. Vibrant shades of red, yellow, and blue light danced across the emblem of a circle with an arrow piercing it. The Royal Crest of the Blood Crown. My gaze moved upward. I’d only ever seen Ironspire from a distance a few times. From the outside, the spires that gave it its name seemed as tall as the Elysium Peaks, stretching like fingers encased in iron reaching for the sky. Sunlight filtered through the stained glass, filling the hollow structures with a kaleidoscope of colors and casting shadows against the iron beams and narrow walkways. I couldn’t fathom how they had been built, and that reminded me of the impossible-to-imagine buildings I’d seen in the Continents.
Buildings that no longer stood.
Chest aching with sorrow, I lowered my gaze and glanced around the rotunda’s dark iron walls. I couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to those who had survived in the Continents. I wanted—
Stopping that thought, I focused on where we were. Four hallways extended like the points of a compass, remnants of crimson and gold banners hanging from the arched entrances—charred remnants.
Ironspire was as quiet as a tomb. Eerily so.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I watched as Casteel systematically inspected each hall for any threats, the filtered light from above glancing off the iron hilt of the blade strapped to his chest. I hadn’t wanted to waste time looking for a thigh harness, and besides, what I wore wasn’t very conducive to weapons access. But now that I thought about it, I hadn’t seen the bloodstone and wolven-bone dagger—the one I’d learned had been carved from the bone of Malik’s bonded wolven, Preela.
Delano’s sister.
My stomach churned at the thought of that as we entered the southern hall. “Where is my dagger?”
“In the chest.” Casteel scanned the eastern hall. “I placed it there after the Rev got into the chamber.”
He turned to me and ran his fingers along the strap securing a dagger to his torso. His hair, having grown longer than when we first met, naturally parted in the middle. When he tilted his chin to the side, glossy, black strands fell forward to brush his eyebrows. I swept my gaze over his features as he came toward me, noting that the hollows beneath his cheeks were starker, drumming forth concern. “You need to feed.”