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)
Miller glanced back at me. When he did it again with a frown, I thought a spark of recognition arced between us. I frowned too. Surely that didn’t mean . . . he wasn’t . . . couldn’t be . . .
But maybe. I would find out.
We entered the rift room with other trainees in tangled lines. The atmosphere changed immediately, becoming denser, humming with an eerie static that prickled my skin. The trio of rifts loomed in the center of the spacious chamber. They resembled giant slashes, as if some monster had clawed and split the very air itself, leaving jagged doorways to the abyss beyond. Wisps of darkness curled at their edges, writhing like smoke trapped in a vacuum. Inside, the gashes pulsed faintly, an unnatural glow casting warped shadows across the concrete walls. A low, distorted murmur leached from the openings, sending a shudder down my spine. The scent of scorched metal and something sickly sweet filled my lungs as I took my next step forward.
Usually we traveled in an orderly fashion. Today, chaos reigned. Men and women from every level rushed through the gloom, vanishing.
At the front of the room, strapping on pieces of golden armor, was Mr. Vyle.
I pressed a hand to my churning stomach. Everyone in his vicinity appeared stressed to the max, except him. He remained as cool as ever, even when he swung his gaze to me, as if he’d sensed my attention. He inclined his head in acknowledgment, and I did the same.
Miller moved between me and the royal executioner, obstructing my view. He wiggled his brows. “Heard you trying to win back your sweet, sweet prince this morning, Roosa.”
My cheeks burned anew. He couldn’t be the Soalian. He just couldn’t be.
“Focus up.” Roman stepped in and elbowed Miller in the gut, surprising me with the show of support. “Something big is happening, and we get to be a part of it. We’ll give our best today. Got it?”
Hunching over, Miller gasped for breath he couldn’t catch. He offered a thumbs-up.
“Classes, follow me through,” Mr. Vyle called. “The royals and upper gentry are awaiting our arrival.” He took position at the front and entered the darkness.
My group joined the clusters of soldiers-in-training surging toward the seams. Winslet entered first, then Cash and Miller. I followed Roman and Merlot, bracing for an onslaught of agony as I entered the gloom.
Just as it had done every time before, the foundation crumbled under my feet. I tumbled into an endless void, yet the agony never came. I experienced not even one flicker of pain. Didn’t feel as though my limbs were being ripped from their sockets and used to beat me over the head.
I marveled, unsure what to make of the change. Although, the reason for it struck me as obvious. I was a Soalian now. A glower. Did travel only hurt the CURED?
In a blink, the foundation returned, and the gloom fled, replaced by a large gymnasium like the one I’d just left. This one came with a magnificent view. Out of habit, I glanced up, drinking in the glass ceiling that revealed a star-studded night sky. Something I’d never seen until joining the military.
“You’re good?” Roman asked, confused as he looked me over. Sweat trickled from his brow, and he panted.
I had zero perspiration and normal breathing. Uh-oh. That might be a problem. A dead giveaway. My temperature cooled fast, and I trembled. “Y-yeah. I’m okay.”
Thankfully, he moved on without further comment.
My gaze shifted to Miller, who helped a pale Merlot to her feet, careful of her healing wrist. He evinced few signs of distress, but he didn’t appear unaffected. Actually, no one appeared unaffected.
I forced myself to turn and help the soldier who exited the seam after me. Like Merlot, he collapsed. I eased his fall to the best of my ability and helped him to his feet.
“Let’s go,” Cyrus called from somewhere in the room.
Ah, there he was. He and the other royals stood with Heta and Mimidae. Honestly, as happy as I was to have him near, I wished he’d stayed in Ourland. He kept losing his memories in Theirland.
Clearly seething beneath the surface, he snapped something at his half brother, High Prince Felix, who laughed and patted his shoulder, defusing the situation.
Each of the royals wore a camouflage jacket, the left breast decorated with the CURED emblem.
As if he’d been attuned to my presence despite the chaos of the crowd, Cyrus caught my gaze with his own. The noise around me faded until only he existed. He raised an eyebrow, his question clear: Are you all right?
A shiver rocked me, and I nodded. You?
He returned the nod.
As soon as Mr. Vyle joined them, the royals led us into a larger room, where we shuffled from one booth to another, collecting armor and weapons. Netter guns, whips, daggers, and swords. My nerve endings buzzed. As usual, we were going to dive into combat without taking a break. Now, though, I understood why we’d always done so. In emergencies, there was no time to prepare.