Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
The queen nods. “Yes. He’s also hungry for a consort, so it’s a testament to his loyalty to your cousin that he’s not fighting for the other side. The same with Taggart and his group. I know many of the military-style groups on the Vampire plane have thrown in with the government. Torin’s promised the royals one hundred consorts. After a thirteen-year drought, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Vampires, the royal ones, require a consort to suspend the aging process. They do this through the act of feeding from consort blood. Gods, I want to taste my wife. Just like that my damn fangs come out.
Meg giggles a bit, taking another sip of her drink. “It looks like you have that trouble here, too. Why haven’t you taken a consort?”
“Because we already have a bondmate.” The words come out of Lach’s mouth sounding dismissive, but I understand. He’s sure the queen won’t believe us either. Perhaps the queen is right. Lach is the one with all the insecurities. But then again, he’s also the half who doesn’t mind a little ogre heart when the occasion calls for it.
“The princess in the tower?” Queen Meg asks.
It’s what we called her now. We know her name. We’ve always known her name, but there are too many ears who can hear the secret. Bronwyn Finn is safer dead. I might be softer than my brother, but I’m not a fool. Even Torin the Wretched Asshole has spies.
“Julian told you. He doesn’t believe us.” I look at our cousin, who’s laughing at something one of the others said. Julian is ridiculously wealthy, ruthless, and intensely perverse. He fits right in with the Unseelie. And Julian was smart enough to figure out a way to get his own consort off the closed Seelie plane. He was set to wed a young bondmate named Daniella when the war occurred. Nothing so simple as a bloody civil war ever stopped Julian Lodge. He has his bondmate, and he didn’t blink an eye when she came to him with an extra. Her servant, a young man named Finn, stowed away and fought to remain by her side. In true Julian Lodge fashion, he simply took them both, and now everyone is happy.
I can’t find my bondmate because I can’t convince my father that she’s still alive.
What if her brothers prove to be more reasonable?
“How old are you?” Meg asks.
“Thirty,” Shim replies.
Shrewd eyes study them. “Well past the age of bonding. Shouldn’t you be all crazy and stuff? Beck and Ci were. Beck hid it, but I understand now how close to the edge he was. I don’t sense that from either of you.”
Lach tenses beside him. “Because we bonded thirteen years ago.”
I watch as Meg’s eyes register shock, but not quite disbelief.
“You bonded but you lost her?” she asks.
“We were never physically with her. We bonded only in our minds,” I explain.
I’m about to continue when a shout goes through the hall. One of the guards runs in, his sword on his hand.
“Your Majesty, the sluagh…” The guard is panting. It’s obvious he ran long and hard from his post. “They’re coming.”
A couple of sluagh coming to the palace isn’t a good sign. The sluagh normally keep to their caves, feasting on the rotten things of the world.
My father sighs. “How many?”
The guard’s stare tightens. “All of them, Your Majesty.”
I take the cup out of Duffy’s hand. I’m going to need the courage because it looks like we’re all fucked.
Chapter Three
Bronwyn
I let the sunshine warm my face and the soft sound of the wheat swaying in the breeze calm me. It’s nearly time for the threshing, but there are a few days of peace left. When the time comes, I’ll work from morning ’til after the sun goes down, and then I’ll barely manage to eat before I pass out from exhaustion.
I’ll sleep too deeply to dream. I’ll miss them.
How can I miss two men I never met?
“Issy! Issy!” A high voice pierces my solitude.
Even after all these years, I’m still somewhat shocked to hear myself called by another name. Isolde. I selected it when Gillian finally gave up on finding a way off the plane. I can still see Gilly’s face, the tears streaking down as she told me I had to give up my name.
This plane is hard on my foster mother.
“Issy!”
“I’m here, Ove!” There’s nothing for it. The brownie will call out until she finds her quarry. Which today is me. Ove is a tenacious thing.
The shafts of wheat move and shuffle as the brownie runs toward me. I brace myself for impact.
“Found you.” Ove launches herself into my arms.
“Yes, you did.” I hold her, enjoying the feel of her small body. I love the brownies. Their rough faces and scraggly hair evoke a tenderness that calls my childhood back. The nannies and housemaids were almost all brownies, working diligently for their cups of cream.