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 want to collapse. Oblivion offers me her hand and it’s so tempting. I could curl up on the ground right here. I could stop fighting and give in to my exhaustion.
But I’m too close to give up now. I tear off the rotten boards and throw them behind me, then shove at the stone door with all my might until it slides clear, revealing the prize inside.
Orange and red flames lick the cavern ceiling and heat the air. At first, I think that’s all it is. Nothing but a fire waiting on a ledge in this crumbling hut. But then I look closer.
The sword is right there in the hottest, bluest part of the fire. In the flame. Made of flame. The Sword of Fire is fire.
I’m too close to give up now. I put one foot in front of the other as I approach the sword, but it’s like willing myself into an oven. The closer I get, the more desperate I am to retreat.
I’m shaking. Whatever rush of energy I had while fleeing the monster has all but left me and my leg throbs with every step, but still I need to try. Reaching the sword is the only thing that matters now.
I’ve never felt fire so hot, and as I surge forward, the heat burns, threatening to sear my lungs and blister my skin.
If I give up now, he wins. If I give up now, he could get to my sister. If I give up now, all the horrors he’ll bring upon this realm will be my fault.
With eyes that fight to close against the scalding heat, I search for the hilt—or some other part of the sword meant for holding—and see nothing but white-hot flame. Flame that repels me even as it calls to me.
Mordeus. Grab the sword and have it take you to Mordeus.
Maybe it’s an illusion. Maybe this is all a trick of magic to protect the sword from theft.
In the forest behind me, I hear the cacophony of breaking limbs and underbrush. It’s coming back.
With a final searing breath, I reach for the hilt, yanking my hand away when the flame threatens to engulf my hand.
The three-headed beast roars just outside the hut, and when I turn, it’s in the doorway, blocking my exit, exposed teeth and angry red eyes promising death.
Trapped between the beast and the lethal fire at my back, I see death in both directions. Death by three hungry, snapping jaws, or death by the sword’s endless flame.
Chapter Fourteen
Felicity
I feel Misha’s presence before I see him come onto the terrace. Maybe it’s that connection in our minds growing stronger the more we’re around each other. Or maybe I’m just that aware of him.
“Let’s go,” Misha says. “Ezra’s growing impatient.”
I push back from the table, glad to be done waiting. If they find Jasalyn tonight, they need that stone. “Well, hello, Misha. My evening’s been fine, thank you for asking.”
He arches a brow. “I imagine it’s been better than mine. Trust me, I would’ve much rather been watching the stars out here than mingling in there.” He scans me as I stand. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.” I blow out a breath. “Let’s go get what we need.”
“You need more than a strand of hair. You need enough of his attention that he’ll accept your invitation.”
“Right,” I mutter, smoothing out the wrinkles in my gown. “Simple.”
“He’s been standing in the same place all night, constantly scanning the room for you. Go to the window near where he’s speaking with his father. Make it look like you’re using the view as an excuse to get close to him. Sneak looks but—”
I roll my eyes. “I can manage to act coy for a few minutes, but I appreciate the instruction.”
He grunts. “How quickly I forget.”
I squeeze my eyes shut for a beat, then sigh and look at him again. “I am sorry, Misha. I didn’t like lying to you.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and surveys the distant, moonlit horizon. “Spare me the apologies. I know why you were doing it, and as insulting as it is that you thought you could seduce the location of my Hall of Doors out of me, I understand why you tried.”
I stare at his profile for a long time. The full lips and thick brows, the faint glow of the silver webbing on his forehead, the sadness in his eyes. He’s so close I can smell him. The pine and rosewood. The clean male scent that intoxicates me. “I needed the information,” I say, “but I didn’t intend to seduce you for it. Seduction was my brother’s ridiculous plan. I hoped to figure it out on my own.”
He cuts his eyes to me, like he can’t help it. “Then why? Why . . . everything else?”