Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132625 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I huff. “No.” Then frown, thinking of how Misha looked at me when I walked away from him tonight—like it took everything in him to let me go. “Maybe? I don’t know. I just thought someone finally wanted me for myself. No agenda, no ulterior motives, you know?”
He hums and plays another card. “But he does, doesn’t he? Nigel told me he could smell the stink of new love on the Wild Fae king.”
My heart twists. “That was when he thought I was the princess.”
“Oh, so he’s said he’s not interested in you now, then?”
“No, but—”
“So he’s acted in a way that shows he’s not interested?” He bobs his head. “They say actions speak louder than words, which is odd when the actions are often quiet ones, but I do think they’re more meaningful all the same.”
Goblins. Literal and logical to such an extreme. Nigel would never let me stew in my feelings either. “I just wish he would’ve told me the truth about needing me for more than . . .” I shrug, and when Squird directs a confused frown in my direction, I blush. “More than affection. I wish he would’ve been honest with me about the other ways he needed me.”
“Pfft,” he says. “Then this romance would’ve been even shorter lived than it already was. First thing you look for is a reason to believe what he feels isn’t real.”
Before I can respond, he jumps to his feet and drops his cards, looking around frantically. “I have to leave.” He turns worried eyes on me. “I can’t be here when it happens, and I can’t come back until it’s settled. Goblins cannot involve themselves in these matters.”
Before I can ask more about what he means, he’s gone.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jasalyn
“Did you come up with anything?” Abriella asks later that evening as she and Pretha join us in one of the palace’s more comfortable sitting rooms. I’ve been telling Natan everything I remember about the day I made the bargain for the ring, and Kendrick’s been by my side the whole time, willing me to remember as much as possible.
“Nothing yet,” Natan says, “but I find our minds work on these problems in the background if we give them what they need. Something will come to me.”
Brie’s quick glance in my direction is all I need to know that she’s thinking the same thing I am. His mind needs to work it out quickly. We only have one more day.
“May Pretha and I join you?” Brie asks. “I’ve been wanting Pretha to talk to you about your phoenix power. So you can be prepared.”
“Of course,” Kendrick says, waving to the armchairs across from us. “Please have a seat.”
Pretha smooths the wrinkles in her skirt before looking at me. “Since Kendrick and his friends teamed up with us months ago, Natan and I have been working together to sort out everything we know about the gift of the phoenix, Eloran blood magic, and everything else related to this unique situation.”
“I appreciate that,” I say softly. I hate to think how much time has been dedicated to fixing my extraordinary mistake, but it’s making me realize that even through my dark years holed up in my bedroom here, I was surrounded by people who cared about me.
“In any other circumstance,” Pretha continues, “I wouldn’t have wanted anyone to tell you about this power. It’s one you need to discover yourself—to join with it without searching for it.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Brie says. “She needs to know how to wield it.”
Pretha sits back in her seat. “The gift of the phoenix is rare. The ability to wield it is even more rare. We don’t know for sure, but many suspect that only a small percentage of those born with the power of the phoenix live to use it.”
“Why?” I ask.
Pretha holds my gaze. “Because in order to wield it, you have to be willing to burn, to feel and endure the pain of the flame. Most people are more afraid of pain than they realize.”
“So suffering is inevitable?” Abriella asks. “There’s no way around it?”
That’s my sister. Always trying to find a way to save me from hurting.
“Think of the werewolf and the agony of his transformation,” Pretha says. “Once he becomes the wolf and has its power, the pain is gone. But the process—the metamorphosis from human to wolf—that is excruciating every time. The weakest wolves don’t survive the pain.”
“So you’re saying that even though I have this power and I could become flame itself, I could just as likely die trying to use it.”
“You will die,” Pretha says. “The process of the phoenix—burning to ash and rising again—it’s a small death.” She looks at my hand again. “Well, not so small, I’m sure you can imagine.”
“Why are you telling me this? Why would I ever burn myself to ash if there’s such a high risk of dying?”