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)
I stiffened, even though I had no right to care. I’d heard about Miss Soti, and I’d suspected Dr. Korey, but not others. “I’m really not sleeping with him.” And I wouldn’t. I’d never trusted a guy enough to risk being so vulnerable. Most breaks occurred at home.
Who wouldn’t want to speak with the much-desired wife of the high prince? Mr. Victors’s pronouncement drifted through my head, and I bit my tongue. Still not happening.
Roman released me and shrugged. “I’m only relaying what I heard. Knights, barons, and viscounts love pillow talk.”
Guess Cyrus wasn’t the only one with a high body count. “I appreciate you looking out for me, but there’s no need to worry.”
“Okay then.” Roman ruffled my hair, spurring a laugh from me. “Let’s go do our duty.”
“Yes, sir.” I finished strapping on an array of weapons. “Let’s.”
Together, we made the trek to our designated mine. Lights illuminated the windowless stone-and-metal enclosure built on the side of a mountain. Huge boulders and braces bracketed the mine itself.
We joined the current guards, and Roman called, “Everyone shadows a knight. Every hour, they’ll switch positions, and you’ll move with yours.”
I was one of two knights in front of the boulders nearest the cave’s darkened entrance. Titus claimed the second space, beating Juniper and Lark, and we exchanged nods of acknowledgment.
The knights didn’t speak to us, but noises spilled from the mine’s wide opening. Muffled voices. Hammering tools. Thuds. Signs hung from the rock face.
No soldiers past this point.
Stop! Authorized personnel only.
Unauthorized entry results in a fine and prison.
Do not Speak to Miners!
Cameras peppered the entrance, recording our every move. Thankfully, I didn’t need to enter the mine; I just needed a trolley to exit. But the first hour passed to no avail.
At the position switch, I moved with my assigned knight, dragging my feet to the second boulder, taking Titus’s place. Come on, come on.
“We shouldn’t have to do this,” Miller complained, standing beside the trolley door on the other side of the chamber, netter in hand. “This facility is protected from the outside. There’s never any action in here. And it’s not like feeders can touch the stones anyway.”
“It’s practice with minimal risk, so shut your mouth and do your job,” Roman commanded from the center of the room. He and his knight acted as lookouts from a center dais. “Remember what the HP said. Everything is a test, and we will be quizzed.”
“Bet Arden aces it,” Miller quipped, and a handful of our teammates snickered.
“I bet I do too,” I replied without heat. I’d picked this path, and I couldn’t complain about it now. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
He scowled at me.
“Focus up,” Roman snapped.
I obeyed. He really was a good leader. Someone who took control of every situation and never cracked under pressure. But I might. As minutes ticked by, my final hour at the mine neared its end without the emergence of a cart.
I shifted from one foot to the other.
“Eager to see your sugar bear?” Juniper teased softly. She’d taken my previous spot.
My head fell forward, and I groaned. “You guys heard that?”
“Everyone on base heard, but only because none of us kept quiet about it.”
“I was joking,” I whined.
An intermittent, high-pitched squeal registered at last, and I stilled. A mine cart! I readjusted my stance, stealthily reaching into my pocket to free the transmitter from its case.
“Switch,” Roman called. We’d reached the end of the hour.
My knight stalked to his next position. Another switch. No, no, no. I hung back.
Roman noticed and clapped his hands. “Put some hustle in your steps.”
Juniper and her knight approached me. But the trolley wasn’t close enough.
“Oops.” I bent down and fiddled with the tie of my boot, keeping my concentration on the squeak. Almost . . . Now! I leaped to my feet and darted to the side, as if chasing my knight. Meanwhile, I moved right in the trolley’s path. We collided, and I purposely fell, stopping the motion-sensitive hauler in its tracks. Good so far. Pretending to use the transporter to help myself stand, I covertly adhered the disk onto the cart’s rim.
“Do not touch,” an automated voice announced, spurring two knights to rush over to intervene.
“Apologies,” I muttered, hightailing it to my next post. I tried not to trip as elation mixed with trepidation. I’d done it. I’d succeeded with step one.
I’d all but thrown myself into the fire now. There was no going back.
As the next hour passed, my trepidation reached new heights. If that transmitter was spotted, Cured would track it to Cyrus, then me. Had I destroyed both of our lives?
Odds were low the transmitter wouldn’t be spotted. As low as the odds Victors hadn’t set me up for a trap.
By the time I reached my fifth post, my knees were knocking. I began to wheeze my breaths. No, no, no. Not a panic attack. Not here, not now. I’d done so well. Had grown so brave. But, but . . . What had I done?