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 should alert Cyrus. Hunt him down and explain all. Unless that was what the emperor’s right-hand man hoped I’d do.
Yeah, better to wait until Cyrus sought me out. In the meantime, I should act as if nothing was amiss. Besides, he probably expected the suspicion. He wasn’t a newbie double agent. Far from it. He had years of experience.
But dang it, foreboding slithered back in, constricting my airway in a viselike grip. We wouldn’t win this. We couldn’t. CURED was too powerful, too entrenched in every aspect of our worlds, and we were too weak.
What are you doing? Stop! I buried the newest doom seed in my memory garden, beside the last. For too long, I had believed CURED was the superior force, while Soal and his Soalians were lesser. We weren’t. Not even close. We could win this.
Calm came as my guide navigated the twisty hallways, leading me from the unfamiliar palace half of the building to the all-too-familiar prison half. The second we rounded a corner, everything altered, warm air turning stale and cold. Glistening crystal walls gave way to rough, pitted concrete. There were no statues here, but something equally ominous: a row of cells, each with a slightly rusted wall of iron bars. A distant drip echoed through the silence, each drop landing with a hollow plink, marking time.
The stark differences struck me as never before, and I wondered if the history I’d been told was accurate. CURED had lied about so many things, so why not this?
The most accepted theory: Over two hundred years ago, Ourland, my world, had fused with another world, Theirland, when someone sprayed certain chemicals into the air, burning through an invisible veil. In an instant, both territories became a mishmash of each other. Half and half. We retained a portion of our architecture and acquired a portion of theirs. Even our soil combined with theirs, causing the Great Soil and Seed Anomaly, with little able to grow. Not to mention we exchanged our good health for their Madness, a terrible disease that turned its victims into vicious killers.
The guard stopped at the women’s locker room. “You have five minutes to prepare.”
I didn’t bother responding. Entering the open space, I took in the banks of cubbies, the benches, and the individual shower stalls with smoked, armored glass. Empty. Everyone else must be in class. Morning warm-up, to be specific.
As quickly as possible, I changed into a clean uniform—which was no longer blue but green, the color for Archduke Baracas Heta’s students. Despite being only halfway into my first phase of training, I had a new lead instructor. I’d anticipated that, but being without Cyrus was going to suck. The fact that the archduke disliked me only added to the suckage.
Sighing, I adjusted my new necklace beneath the shirt’s neckline, then braided my hair and plotted my next move. Like Cyrus suggested, I must do this one day at a time. Today’s goals: Forget that the emperor’s right-hand man walked among us, determined to oust the double agent in his midst; keep my ears open for any tidbit that might help Cyrus become king; and avoid any hint of panic, all while proving to Mr. Vyle there was no reason to suspect us of being double agents. No big deal.
Tremors plagued me as I trudged from the locker room to the designated gym. My steps faltered when I realized my original escort had been replaced by two higher-ranking barons. One soldier moved in front of me while the other trailed us. Both remained silent. They were either here to act as my protectors or my wardens. Since I knew my words would be reported, I remained silent.
This was fine. I was fine. Breathe. Just breathe.
A bell rang, signaling the end of warm-up. Well. Looked like I’d start with Realms and Travel, the second class of the day, taught by Archduke Heta himself.
I soared through the open door just as the bell rang. Hmm. A mere fourteen lords- and ladies-in-training occupied the seats, and I recognized only four of them. Roman, a friend, plus Miller, Cash, and a girl named Merlot, mere acquaintances. They sat with lords- and ladies-in-training I’d never met, whispering together. If CURED had split Cyrus’s class down the middle, giving an equal number to both Heta and Duchess Mimidae, the other instructor, I should see three other familiar faces in here. Either the powers that be had brought in a new instructor, or something had happened to my former teammates.
Someone noticed me and alerted others. All conversations tapered to silence as every eye swung my way. Expressions shifted to display one of four emotions in various degrees. Curiosity, confusion, envy, and disdain. What had they heard?
Heart thudding, I claimed the lone available seat. Front row center, with a direct sight line to the archduke’s desk, where the man in question currently sat, organizing his notes. At least Roman was my neighbor. But, um, what was the strange sensation currently uncoiling beneath my sternum?