Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and shook my head. I’d had no idea Victors visited him. No idea Cyrus met with Soal himself.
“No one but Cyrus is responsible for his choices. Not even you, Arden. You accept that, I hope.”
“I do,” I said and sighed. The new emperor of Ourland was as much a free moral agent as I was. “And I don’t.”
Victors tsked again. “Careful, my dear. A little drop of doubt poisons the entire glass of water.”
I pursed my lips. “How very Victors of you. Cryptic responses have always been your specialty.”
“Thank you,” he said and grinned.
“That wasn’t a compliment.” Frustration uncoiled, wrapping around me. My chin trembled. The shock of it all was fading, leaving me with emotions I wasn’t ready to deal with and certainties I didn’t like or have any idea how to change. “Soal imprisoned Astan before. He should be able to do it again.” Thereby freeing Cyrus.
“Tsuri imprisoned the gods.”
Hold up. “Tsuri became the Rock after bringing Briar Rose back to life. How did he create the prisons?”
Victors didn’t explain. “Reimprisonment isn’t the way forward. Total annihilation is. The time has come. We’re finally ready.”
I closed my eyes for a moment. Where did this leave Cyrus?
“Good news is, Astan isn’t all powerful. None of them are. Though they abide in their hosts, they require constant anchors and total agreement.”
“Say more. Please,” I added.
“Emotions act as a sealant. Astan specializes in fear, greed, and pride, as you’ve noted. Root those from Cyrus, and the god will lose his stronghold. Cyrus can eject him.”
His words reverberated. Before I’d come into his life, Cyrus had been fear-free. What if I’d shared the fruit of my anxiety with him?
I thought back to the moment trepidation had first reared its ugly head. The train car ride to Fort Bala. It had overwhelmed me, almost palpable and worse than any other distress I’d ever felt, almost as if I’d tapped into a rushing vein. Rather than fight it, I’d buried it for study later, allowing it to grow.
I leaned forward, closing my eyes and resting my head in my upraised palms. Had Astan targeted me even then, his sights set on using me to bring down Cyrus?
Flash. I saw the shadow that had risen from the body of Tagin Dolion seconds after his death. How we’d stared each other down for several beats. Maybe the plan to win Cyrus over was born in that moment. Maybe even before it. Either way, I’d played right into his hands, sticking my head in the sands of “later” rather than facing my enemy head-on right from the start, giving him time to establish roots.
“Now, now. None of that,” Victors said, guessing my thoughts. “No need to get down. Even when you make a wrong turn, there’s always a way to get where you need to be.”
I really, really hoped so. “How far in the future have you read?”
Another grin spread, there and gone. “Past the climax, all the way to the ending celebration of victory. It’s glorious, I promise you. The comeback story of all comeback stories. That’s the theme, in case you were wondering.”
Good to know. “Do we all survive?”
“There will be casualties. In war, there always are.”
Figured. “So what are the tropes of this comeback story, hmm?”
His eyes glittered with humor. “Those are up to you.”
Fair enough.
Footsteps rose above the moans and groans echoing all around us, reaching my ears. An ambrosial scent hit next, sparking as much dread as anticipation. Cyrus.
I sat up straighter as he and an army of armed guards entered my vantage point. His intense, star-studded stare promised the worst had yet to come. Before, I might have withered. But this was Astan, not Cyrus, and I wouldn’t cow to my enemy, giving him what he craved.
He’d changed again, now sporting a sleek black suit and tie. He looked good, but I recognized a weapon when I spied one.
I didn’t bother rising when he stopped at the barred door. “Guess you figured out what to do with me.”
“I have,” he confirmed. He dropped his gaze to my side, where the bloodstained hem of my shirt had gotten trapped in the corner of the bandage. Though he stiffened, he commented not. Rather, he turned his attention to Victors. “Enjoying your stay, old friend?”
“Honestly? Yes. I didn’t turn myself in for nothing.” Victors flashed his most guileless grin. “The more you swagger about, the closer we come to the final chapter in The Book of Astan. It’s a tragedy.”
Cyrus brushed invisible lint from his sleeve. “Soal made a mistake, basing his victory upon the integrity of his word. His precious truth. If only one detail in his book is altered, he loses everything.”
I tried to make sense of what I’d just heard. Was he implying the crux of the entire war between CURED and Soal boiled down to Astan making Soal a liar? But that made no sense. Unless there was something at play I wasn’t seeing.