Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
A unicorn. Was it… hunted down? I have so many questions.
“I will go arrange everything. Are you comfortable staying on your own? You’re free to order any drink.” Tristan strokes my arm and gives me a quick kiss. It confirms that he’s not ashamed of being seen with me, a human of the male variety and someone else’s ‘promised’--
“Should you be kissing me in public?” I whisper in panic. It’s not like we’re in a frat house and able to say what happens in the human realm, stays in the human realm. There could be repercussions for our… dalliance.
Tristan shrugs. “News doesn’t travel that fast. And if questioned, we’ll just deny it.”
“That simple?”
“That simple,” he says with a grin and gives me another peck on the lips.
I feel a bit silly when I smile at him like a love-struck teen. “Don’t be long.”
The nod he offers looks almost like a bow, and butterflies once more swarm inside me until I have to look away or risk embarrassing myself by grabbing his hand. My heart melts when he takes the duffel bag with Lady out of my hands with tenderness.
I’m such a sap.
My feet take me past the unicorn fountain of dark crystal, all the way to the counter, where a handsome elven man is busy polishing frosted glasses in all shades of red.
“Welcome to Unicorn’s Rest. What can I help you with?” he asks, placing the glass on the shelf behind him. He then puts both of his wiry hands on the countertop and leans toward me. A tattoo’s peeking from under his shirt, but it doesn’t move like Tristan’s.
“I’m here with Prince Tristan. He told me to order something to drink.”
My words hang in the air while the elf watches me expectantly, before finally cocking his head. “Have you only just arrived?”
I hate not knowing what I’m doing.
“Yes. I… would like to try the most popular thing, as long as it’s vega—” I stall when the man frowns. “Not made with animal products.”
The bartender drifts off with his gaze to the shelves filled with bottles and vials as if this is some kind of laboratory. “Certainly. I will make the ‘popular thing’, and something special, on the house. You are his ‘promised’ I understand?”
Voice gets stuck in my throat, because what am I supposed to say after I’ve just kissed Tristan in public? I don’t want to be seen as anyone’s side piece.
I shrug, letting the bartender interpret it in any way he wants. “This is such a lovely place. I always loved unicorns. It makes me feel a bit sad for this one,” I say, pointing out the skull.
The bartender grabs a glass and starts expertly making a concoction for me. “Oh, don’t be. He chose this spot as his place of rest, hence the name. The founder of this tavern, Sohan of the Stormy Gates, had a special connection with the beast from a time when the unicorn saved his daughter years prior, so when its time came, it arrived here to take its final breath in Sohan’s lap.”
“That’s… a beautiful legend,” I say softly, but the bartender frowns.
“It’s no legend. My wife is Sohan’s granddaughter.”
Oh, so this is one of those worlds where elves have unnaturally long lives, which means… what, that Tristan, and my ‘promised’ will watch me grow old and die while they remain in their prime?
I shudder just thinking about it but take a sip of the drink which turns out to be light, a bit sweet, but also fruity. The closest comparison I can think of would be raspberry.
“That’s delicious!” I exclaim as someone sits on the stool right next to me. They’re a bit too close for comfort, since many other chairs are vacant, but I’m the stranger here, so I choose to ignore them and focus on my drink.
“I thought he’d choose someone more impressive,” says a voice as smooth and rich as the finest chocolate. I don’t want to engage in whatever this is, but when the bartender pulls away, leaving me alone with the stranger, I shift to the left, to create that bit more personal space, and finally grace my surprise companion with attention.
He’s so stinking gorgeous I can’t bring myself to speak for several seconds, but I did come here with a prince and can’t allow someone to look at me as if I’m a piece of used chewing gum stuck to their foot.
“Do I know you?”
The elf’s skin is a brownish lavender, his hair—black as crow feathers and styled into elaborate plaits, and by the time I see the fine cut of his doublet and the heavy rings adorning his fingers, I feel like a beggar at the feet of my better.
The elf extends his hand to me, and I’m not sure if I should shake it or kiss it. “Amrath. And I will say it myself before you hear word of it, as you definitely will. Yes, I am Tristan’s former lover.”