Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Wynter threw herself backward, laughing.
Kerrigan winced. “I’ll take that to mean no?”
“No,” Fordham agreed.
Kerrigan shook out her arms. “Can we try that Ollivier trick instead?”
Wynter raised her eyebrows. “You showed her how to store things in the nothing?”
“Not exactly,” Fordham grumbled.
“He proposed to me by pulling the ring out of the shadows.”
Wynter lost it, doubling over. “Gods, that’s clever.”
“Shut it,” he grumbled.
Wynter winked at her. “I’ll teach you how to do it. Come here. It’s easy.”
Then Wynter started twisting her hand to form a pocket in the nothing. Kerrigan tried a few times, but every time she tried to drop something into it, it just fell through and landed on her foot.
Fordham shook his head. “That’s not how it’s done. You have to form a hole in it that only you can access.”
“Like it’s so easy!” Kerrigan snapped.
Wynter chuckled. “It’s a parlor trick. Keep working on it. Maybe you’ll be better at this than fighting.”
Kerrigan glared at her, but a sharp rap on the door made them all turn.
“I thought I had another half hour,” Fordham called.
But it wasn’t Adelaide who stepped into the room but Prescott. There was a red mark on his neck and a haunted look in his eyes.
“Didn’t think this should wait,” he said.
“Gods, are you okay?” Wynter asked as Kerrigan pulled her air magic in tight to seal the room.
“I’m fine,” Prescott said with a quick smile. “Plan is going just fine. You’ll get this in a day or so, but I came as quickly as I could.”
Fordham had removed his jacket and cravat for training, so he was clad in nothing but a pair of fitted pants and a half-unbuttoned black shirt. Kerrigan had been admiring the sliver of skin of his chest and at this throat. In fact, it had been a big distraction when she’d gotten started. But now he moved to rebutton his shirt and slipped his arms into his kingly jacket with the expensive, silver stitching. It was like armor and made him look twice as formidable as he had seconds earlier. It was all a deception though, because clothes didn’t change how scary he was—they just enhanced it.
“All right,” he said. “Now I’m ready.”
Prescott handed him a crisp, white envelope. “Barron’s plan.”
Kerrigan came to Fordham’s side as he broke the black wax seal of a jagged lightning bolt. He removed what was inside and turned it over to show a party invitation. He read it over before handing it to Kerrigan with a sigh.
“What is it?” Wynter asked, coming to stand at Kerrigan’s shoulder.
“A ball in our honor,” Kerrigan said.
“Hosted by Barron Laurent and Viviana Blanchard,” Wynter hissed.
“A trap,” Prescott said.
“Obviously,” Fordham said.
“This is the night of the autumnal equinox.”
Spirit magic worked strongest during times when the veil was the thinnest. Kerrigan had been planning to use the increased cosmic energy on the equinox to reach their allies and begin Fordham’s training.
“Of course it is,” Wynter said.
“Do you think he knows that’s when we’re working spirit magic?” Kerrigan asked.
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Fordham said. He cast his gaze to his cousin, who, despite his ragged appearance, did look remarkably similar to Fordham. A muddled mirror. “Does he know, Pres?”
Prescott nodded. “I don’t know how he could, but he was talking about it when he thought I wasn’t listening.”
“You ingratiated yourself quickly,” Wynter noted.
“He’s a simple man. He likes an easy smile,” Prescott said with a shrug. “Fordham talking down to me and Arbor’s death helped matters. I don’t have to fake how I’m feeling. He assumes that means I’m starting to hate you.”
“This will be over soon,” Fordham assured him. “I’m sorry you’re in this position.”
“I’m glad that I can help.”
Fordham got straight to business. “Wynter, talk to Dozan about his spy network, and see if he can figure out how this got out. I’m going to have Adelaide discretely question the guards and servants.”
“And me?” Kerrigan asked.
Fordham tipped her chin up with a finger the way he’d done with his blade moments earlier. “You need to get a very Kerrigan-esque ball gown.”
She huffed. “We’re going?”
“We have to,” he said with a shrug. “We can’t snub them. We need their power too much.”
“Yes, but we’ve established that it’s a trap,” Kerrigan said. “Why would we walk into a trap?”
“Because otherwise, the Olliviers look weak,” Prescott said.
Wynter nodded. “If we all stay hidden away and forgo the party, it makes it look like we’re afraid of the other families.”
Fordham looked resolute. “I may be king, but the three families each control a third of the populace and the army. If Laurent and Blanchard turn their backs on us, we won’t have a strong enough force to take on the Society. We must attend and have a show of strength.” His shadows sparked around his hands. “I have some ideas for that.”