Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Had he forgotten I was chained? “What are we going to do?”
No response. I tapped the disks behind my ears. “Hello? Cyrus?”
Still nothing. A second later, the padded shackle around my wrist fell off and the door to my cell opened. I blinked rapidly. Wow. Okay. He’d been serious.
“What even is my life right now?” I muttered, pounding my fist into my mattress.
“Judging by the one-sided conversation I just overheard,” Mykal said, snickering, “I’m guessing you’re in a hurry to see the HP. Excuse me. Cyrus. Promise me you’ll spill everything when you return, or I’ll revolt.”
“I promise. Maybe,” I grumbled, earning more giggles from her. “I better go.” Time was ticking.
My blood turned to fuel as I scrambled from the bed and zoomed to the locker room, where I cleaned up and dressed at warp speed. Both the hallway and the facilities were empty, most soldiers sleeping in their cells.
As I anchored my hair in a ponytail, an elevator carried me to the twelfth floor. A level I’d never ventured to. Perspiration dampened my palms. The cart stopped and opened. I spotted Cyrus immediately. He stood in front of a pair of guarded double doors, his hands in his pockets. He’d showered, shaved, and changed since I’d last seen him, his hair wet and his military fatigues crisply pressed. His wound looked better.
I approached him tentatively, my heart racing. “Hi. Sir.”
A wry smile lit his rough features. “You’re excited to see me.”
“What? No.” Embarrassment scorched my cheeks. “Why would you ever think—”
He tapped a transmitter behind his ear, and my shoulders rolled in. Right.
“Just so you know, it’s not excitement,” I grumbled. Probably. “You make me nervous.”
“Ah. Nervous,” he echoed, growing serious. “Brighten up, Pink. You’re about to receive a treat few others have enjoyed. A private tour led by the king’s son. I’ll show you the rifts between worlds.”
Rifts. Our mode of transport into Theirland. “Yes, please!”
The guards pushed open the doors, and Cyrus waved me inside the room.
I took a step, then hesitated, suspicions brewing. “This feels like a bribe. As if you’re going to expect information about Shiloh.” Or Ember.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m not foolish enough to bribe you for information you said you don’t have. Take the tour or not. Always your choice.”
Well. In that case. I strode past the door, entering a huge, mostly empty space with a glass-encased room in back labeled Triage. The rifts occupied the center of the room, and wow. “They’re like enormous claw marks. Air wounds.” It looked like a massive beast had raked its nails through the air and cut into an abyss. Thick shadows slithered inside each.
Cautious, I edged around the rifts. They appeared the same no matter my angle. “Are there many of these throughout our world?”
At my side, Cyrus nodded. “Many. But these particular rifts lead to a Cured-protected building in Theirland. One by one, lords- and ladies-in-training will step into the darkness. You’ll experience a moment of excruciating pain, then you’ll be in Theirland.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. A reaction I didn’t understand. Unless he didn’t like the other world. “The facility has a walled perimeter, armed guards, and cameras. There are few places you can go that someone isn’t watching.”
I heard the warning tucked inside the complimentary tidbit, and it didn’t bode well for my goal. If he already suspected my plan to poke around, I was as good as caught.
He misunderstood my concern and promised, “I’ll help you get through this however I can.”
“Thank you. This helped,” I whispered. I believed he meant his words. Yes, we’d had a rough start, but every day since, he’d aided me. I should take a risk and tell him about the Tome Society. He wouldn’t blame me, and he might erase my confusion. My only shot at a win-win.
I braced. “Please test me for Madness. Use the most reliable method of testing available.” My blood.
He frowned but didn’t move away from me. “Do you have symptoms?”
“No, but I’m going to tell you something that could make you think otherwise.”
The frown deepened. After a prolonged hesitation, he motioned to triage. “There’s a kit in there.”
He led me into the glass room. I sat on a gurney while he gathered supplies. Gloves, alcohol swabs, a bandage, and a press-and-release needle with a built-in test strip. After cleaning my right index finger, he slid the tester in place. The container covered the digit from tip to base. With the push of a button, three needle pricks sent a spike of pain up my arm, and I hissed.
The device clamped tight, tighter, squeezing blood from the wounds. Then the pressure eased, and he freed me, bandaged my finger, and stared down at the result pad, awaiting the verdict.
I’d be negative, no doubt about it. I must be.