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)
“Don’t do that to yourself.”
He scrapes a hand over his face. “I’ll kill him. Once we have Jasalyn back, I want to find Mordeus and end him for good. It’s the least I can do for her.”
He’s so focused on Jasalyn, this might be the perfect time to tell him why I won’t kill Erith. The truth sits heavy in my chest. I could tell him. Maybe I should, but I can’t bring myself to do it.
Exhausted. Confused. Emotionally wrecked.
But when I close my eyes, sleep eludes me.
I would give anything for a sleeping tonic, but I can’t bring myself to leave my chambers to ask for one. I can’t stomach the idea of running into Misha again.
I wander my room, brushing my fingertips across the cool marble of the fireplace mantel and opening the drawers in the desk one by one. I’m not sure if I’m hoping to find the herbs I know would help me sleep or if I’m looking for a distraction, but when I see the contents of the bottom drawer, my chest feels too tight.
My nose tingles with the threat of tears as I pull the playing cards from the drawer.
I miss Nigel so much. When I felt lonely as a child, he was always there. Even when he wasn’t, knowing he’d come at a moment’s notice always gave me comfort.
I pluck a thread on my goblin bracelet just to remember what it feels like, then press the cards to my chest as if they might bring back my friend.
“I was beginning to think you’d never call,” someone says behind me.
I spin around and squeak when I see a spindly-limbed goblin sitting on the foot of my bed.
He looks me over, assessing. “You are quite conscious. Finally.”
“Who are you?”
“Squird Anglos the Third, at your service.” He hops off the bed and bows from the waist. “But you can call me Squird. Nigel told me the rhyming bits become tiresome otherwise.”
Joy rises into my chest and a bubble of laughter slips from my lips. I can imagine Nigel saying just that. “It’s nice to meet you, Squird.”
“Nigel asked me to look after you if anything ever happened to him. I would’ve introduced myself sooner, but I couldn’t come until you called. What can I do for you this fine evening?” He frowns out the window. “Rather, this night when you should most definitely be sleeping.”
I clutch the cards harder to my chest. Nigel assigned another goblin to look after me once he was gone. Of course he did.
“I don’t know how to play,” he says, nodding to the cards in my hands, “but I’ll learn if you’d like.”
I smile. It’s hard to tell a goblin’s age by their appearance—they all seem to have the same sparse, thin hair and plump belly—but I can tell Squird is young. He hasn’t become as tight-lipped as his brethren. I set the cards on the desk. “Maybe another time.”
“Do you need to go anywhere?” He bounces on his toes, eagerness making his eyes shine.
I bite my bottom lip. I don’t want to take advantage if he’s too young to know better, but . . . “I had a question.”
He waits for a beat, then looks around the room. “And you lost it? Or do you expect me to guess? Perhaps Nigel never told you that goblins don’t read minds.” His eyes widen. “Or maybe he did? He is one of the smartest goblins I’ve ever met. I bet he knew all your questions before you spoke them aloud.”
I stifle a laugh, bowing my head to hide the smile I can’t keep from my face. “I’m just trying to figure out the best way to ask.” Goblins can be so literal, and I’m guessing Squird might be worse than most. “Why didn’t Erith have me killed when I was captured?”
Squird wrinkles his nose like this is a foolish question. “Because he didn’t know where you were.”
“You mean to say Erith wasn’t the one who captured me?”
“Erith would never get so close to one fated to end him.”
“I thought Konner—or whoever took me from Misha’s dungeons—did so on behalf of Erith. But perhaps they were working for someone else instead.” Konner would be devoted to the Seven, having grown up in the palace. It doesn’t make sense that he wouldn’t have wanted Erith to have access to me, and yet I think he was trying to tell me that he wanted me alive.
“No one in that palace works for anyone but themselves,” Squird says.
“What about the dreams Konner planted in my mind? If he wasn’t working with Erith—or perhaps is even working against Erith—why not use those dreams to make me hate my father? To make me act on my supposed fate when I woke? And if it wasn’t that, then why keep me asleep at all?” I’ve been thinking out loud again, and I realize my mistake when I lift my head and see Squird’s big, panicked eyes. “Sorry,” I mumble.