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)
No boyfriend has ever been this attentive. Knowing that Tristan thinks about small things and takes my individual needs into account, instead of doing the bare minimum, like the vast majority of the men I’ve dated, puts me at ease.
Those aren’t the actions of someone who’s always gotten everything handed to them on a platter.
“Tristan… maybe I’m just confused, and being a prince means something else in my world than it does here, but… many of the things you do are technically menial tasks, like your work for the Nightcloaks. What exactly comes with your title?”
He casually places his arm around my waist. I wonder if he’d do that with just any male friend, but I like it too much to complain. Instead, I enjoy his warmth as I admire the moonlit gardens we pass through.
“Hm. There are three main royal bloodlines, the Nightweeds, which hold the ruling position, the Goldweeds, and us, the Bloodweeds. We all originate from a common ancestor, but to explain all that I’d have to show you a very extensive family tree one day. What matters is that while I might get to advise the Lord at times, and I get to be involved in certain decisions that affect all of the Nocturne Court, as a Bloodweed, I knew from an early age I would never be a crown prince.
“What does come with my family name is wealth and a large possibility that I would inherit shadow wielding talents. Which I have. I do have the freedom to lie about all day, eat, drink, and merry, or spend my family’s coin on new clothes and trinkets. Do I occasionally indulge? Certainly, but I’ve always wished for a purpose. I’m someone who likes to act. I want to be involved. Whether it’s to keep track of the beasts in the vicinity of our lands, to make sure everyone’s safety is as assured as it can be, or making my own bed.
“My father expected me to wish for knighthood, and he was right about that. While I have servants at the castle, being a knight often involves travel, and not always of the comfortable kind. I also represent my family name, so he found it crucial I have a grasp of manners as well as an understanding of how to provide for my basic needs. It turned out the latter comes to me easier than court politics or word play. Does all of this answer your question?”
I feel so warm all over when he looks at me.
“Yes. That’s… very admirable. You are, I mean.” I clear my throat and look forward, head tucked under Tristan’s chin as we pass through an open gate and venture out into a frozen landscape glinting under the pale moon.
Never in a million years would I have thought a prince would show interest in someone like me, but Tristan isn’t the way I imagined royalty at all. Genuine and down-to-earth, he is someone I can relate to, despite the differences between our worlds and upbringings.
Snow covers the ground in deep, untouched drifts. A bit farther, trees claw at the sky along a road wide enough to accommodate two wagons, their skeletal branches stark on the backdrop of the silvery moon.
As I look the other way, down the mild slope we’re traversing, a frozen lake winks at me, its surface uneven like a broken mirror. The bare vegetation around it sinks in foggy wisps, as if something is breathing under the sheet of ice.
I swallow, marveling at the beautiful scenery when a small creature leaps through the pristine snow.
Tristan stops the kelpie and whispers into my ear. “See that? It’s a jackalope. Stay very quiet.” Moments later, another horned rabbit follows, then another, then a whole herd of them rushes forward like the cutest avalanche.
“They travel together in the winter,” Tristan says, and I’m shivering, because what in the cryptozoology…?
“Oh shoot. Oh shoot. Oh shoot,” I whisper, shocked, elated, and utterly amazed. This is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. “They’re real! I was so sad and disillusioned, when Grandma told me they weren’t!”
“I imagine some might have wandered into your realm at times, but they don’t survive there long, I’m afraid.”
“Unless a Nightcloak finds them,” I say, twisting my head to look at him, and oh, his breath smells like oregano.
I look back right away, my heart racing as we push on, through the ruins of a massive gate with winged warriors sculpted into each of its pillars. Frost clings to the stone walls, and as we emerge on the other side, I see ravens shifting in the shadows, barely distinguishable from them.
Far ahead is a cluster of green lights. From a distance, the houses are only shapes buried in the snow, but each window in the village is a small lantern in the vastness of the Nightmare Realm. I point it out. “Is that where the servants live?”