Total pages in book: 197
Estimated words: 186911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 186911 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 935(@200wpm)___ 748(@250wpm)___ 623(@300wpm)
But my sister was not cold and emotionless. Her feelings—her fear—dangled from her sleeves for all to see. I was just the only one who bothered to look. “I will take care of this, faywen. I promise.”
She searched my face, and I knew she found no lies. “Okay,” she croaked.
I kissed her cheek. “Start the soup. Mama hasn’t eaten all day. I bought some shaela bread from the market this morning to tempt her appetite. It’s her favorite.”
“That must’ve cost half our purse.” My serious sister returned quickly. “How many times, Haeowen? Stories, gifts, and sweets cannot change our reality. Cease wasting our hard-earned coin on them.”
“The bread was half price today in celebration of the royal marriage. Even if it wasn’t, I would still spend the coin. It’s not about changing our reality. It’s about the fact that a life without stories, gifts, and the occasional sweet that brings a smile to Mama’s lips, isn’t a life worth living.
“Once I’ve stopped caring enough to lie to you, then you’ll know I’ve given up on you. That day will never come.”
She sniffed. “I will not make a liar into a hero by praising that speech.”
I laughed. “I’m going to put Savia down and check in on Mama. The shaela bread is in my bag. There’s enough for all of us.”
Baby Savia did not go down easily. I rudely woke her the first time, and she fussed and flailed her anger at me until the sun retreated and the rain stopped. Finally, her lids fell heavy and she drifted off—holding tight to my finger.
I smiled gently while that finger stroked her soft cheek. “I will tell you the same pretty lies too, sweet one,” I whispered. “Because in this reality, we can only be happy in a fantasy.”
I left Savia to her rest and went out into the main room. Meliora came in from outside carrying a sign.
“Why do you have that?”
“They hung another one up.” She glanced behind her. “And they’re waiting to do it again.”
Frowning, I looked past her shoulder outside. Three young men stood on the wrong side of our fence—bold in their intrusion and their glares. In their hands were the signs and glue they were taking through the Gutter Galley—a fond name for the poorest part of town that we lived in. They were most aggressive about their recruiting in this neighborhood.
“Yes,” I called, “we have a young boy in the household, and tonight he curses this door so that misfortune befalls any who touches it without permission!”
I slammed the door, so angry that I took the sign and ripped it to pieces. Meliora didn’t comment on my outburst and instead went to prepare the table for dinner. I moved to the curtain, watching them through the window.
They were low-powered fae. Only two had a crystal on their lapel and they were small ones at that. I watched them debate if they planned to test me.
“It’s because of the wedding,” Meliora said. “King Alisdair agreed to marry the princess and sign a treaty to end the war. But he did not, and would not, agree to end the curse. We are no closer to attaining what we began this war to achieve.
“While we are sticking to the terms of the treaty, Alisdair’s people will grow stronger until he and Emiana give birth to the rightful heir of both thrones, and they return to conquer our kingdom once and for all. Everyone capable of looking beyond the immediate future sees this marriage for what it is. They believe the war to end us is coming, and we don’t have enough men to stop it.”
“We might if women were allowed to join the army, and not as bedwarmers,” I returned. “The war to end us has always been coming. We fight because we have to, but I don’t believe anyone—not even the king—thinks we can win. One day Jac will have to decide if he wants to fight this unwinnable battle, but that is not today. It is not when he’s eight years old. I will protect his childhood the same as I protected yours and Gisela’s.”
Meliora did not answer me. I looked back and landed on her back as she went into the kitchen. I knew she agreed with me on this—in theory. In practice, one nineteen-year-old girl from Gutter Galley was an unimpressive match against the Royal Army.
King Alisdair will soon arrive with a hundred soldiers, and the response to save us is to conscript my young brother into the army.
I watched Jac roll across the floor, making faces at the kitten.
We’re doomed. I laughed at my private joke—a short, sharp one that ended quickly.
Only boys were allowed to attend magic school, but at eight years old, they were given another choice as well. They could join the academy and begin the ten-year training that would end with a sword, a coudarian crystal, and the name of the regiment they’d go to war with. The end result was non-negotiable. Even if Jac became an advisor to the king himself, if his regiment was called up, he’d have to go—no exceptions. No excuses.