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)
I sigh, deflated, and settle at one of the long driftwood tables polished to perfection. I wish I’d studied harder as a child, so I could write such a demand myself, but it is yet another area in which I’m lacking.
As I wait, I pull out the letter from Nate. It’s crumpled, and I have to put together the two pieces to read it again. Lady’s saliva had made a few words disappear, and it brings me joy when I see it’s Gloombane’s name that’s damaged.
I’m terrified that Sabine might be right. I fell in love with him so fast and hard. I’ve never met anyone so sweet and genuine before, and he’s stuck to my heart like honey.
I reread the letter helplessly and stroke Lady’s muzzle when she puts it on my thigh. “And not once has he asked about you,” I grumble to the dog.
A cold, slimy shiver goes down my throat and settles in my stomach.
“He’s not asked about you,” I repeat in a whisper. “He would have.”
After two months of worry and yearning, the scales finally fall from my eyes.
None of the letters written in Nate’s hand were truly from him. If the words aren’t his and neither are the sentiments, then maybe… he’s hiding his real thoughts, out of fear that Gloombane might read them? Perhaps he hates it in the tower and secretly hopes I’ll fetch him to the Nocturne Court?
Lady cocks her head, as if she understands my agitation without words.
A soft sigh leaves her muzzle, and I rise, prompting her to make a joyful circle.
Fuck letters, no matter how strongly worded.
I’m not waiting a day longer.
Chapter 15
Tristan
The moon is especially beautiful today. Its blood red glow casts a dense veil on everything it touches, elevating the landscape to new heights of beauty. Legend has it that a long, long time ago an ancestor of my mother’s fought a giant dragon. They kept battling even when the beast flew into the sky, eventually reaching the moon, and they’ve been at it to this day. Each time the Bloodweed bleeds, we can all see it.
I’ve always found it curious that the dragon injures the knight in intervals so regular blood moons are marked in every calendar, but I no longer question the tradition. If my ancestor has been gone long enough no one remembers his name, then precise details of the magic at play don’t matter.
Such things are for the astronomers to understand. My job is to hit things really hard, kill monsters, and save innocents.
I arrive at the shore of Grief Ocean to Stone’s relief, but to give credit where it’s due, my kelpie friend hasn’t complained about the pace I imposed on him. We both like a physical challenge. The trip itself took so long it required me to stop for the night, but we’ve finally arrived, and I’m not taking no for an answer. I will visit Nate, even if it’s to find out he doesn’t care to see me or Lady.
The waves close to the shore are a dark wine red, but farther away, a dense fog obscures the tower so that only its very roof is visible.
On the pier, an elf with a sullen expression gets up at the sight of me. I spot a small boat behind him and approach without hesitation, my heart already beating faster. I am so close. I could see Nate within the next quarter of an hour and find out if some aspect of my behavior offended him so much he no longer wishes to exchange letters.
“I need passage to the tower,” I say, dismounting Stone. On the way, I rode past a homestead with hatchlings in the garden and debated whether I should purchase one as a gift, but in the end I figured the young bird would just end up as a snack for Lady.
Nate would be devastated if that happened, so instead I got him some fruit, which I grab from the saddlebag when the ferryman speaks. “Impossible.”
It takes me a full two seconds to process his answer. Why would he deny me, a member of the Nightcloaks, and a prince of the Nocturne Court? “I am Prince Tristan Bloodweed, and I demand entry.”
I don’t often throw my name around like this, but Nate is so very close, and I will do everything in my power to see his sun kissed face.
But the ferryman shakes his head. “No can do, ser. The fog’s too dense tonight. You might not respect your life, but for a simple man like myself, a beating heart is the most important thing one has. You’ll have to wait.”
I look out into the fog reminiscent of blood vapors.
I’m not having any of this. “Suit yourself,” I snarl and slide the parcel with the gift into a hidden pocket inside my cloak. “I would have paid well for passage.”