Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
“Probably House Vilette,” Steiner says. “They hate us.”
“And luckily the royal family isn’t fond of them either,” Andor points out. “But they will pivot if we deviate. We sell only to the king and that’s it. He can’t afford to have his population gain magic and powers, the very things they could use to rebel against him and the army. There could easily be an uprising.”
He’s making a good point, though I think it would be better if every commoner did have the power to rise up and fight. “Is the king not doing a good job?”
“He’s never done a great job,” Andor says, sitting on the corner of Steiner’s desk. “But kings don’t need to do a great job, do they? It’s not as if the people have a choice.”
“But they could have a choice if suen was dispersed throughout the population,” I muse, tapping my fingers along my chin.
“Aha,” Andor says with a smile. “I see the daughter of rebels has emerged. I would be inclined to agree with you too, if it were any other time in history.”
“What’s so important about this time in history?” I ask.
The two brothers exchange a look that says Where do I start?
Andor sighs as he looks at me, as if he’s forced to play the role of tutor. “There’s a lot of history to cover first. First, let’s go make sure you and Lemi have some breakfast.” He looks to Steiner. “Since Brynla is obviously immune to the suen, we need to give her as much advantage as we can—better armor, better weapons, whatever little devices you can create.”
Andor motions for me to follow him to the door. I finish the rest of my coffee and walk across the room, Lemi trailing behind. Andor opens the door and pauses, looking at me with a torn expression before he glances back at Steiner.
“Oh, I need you to send Moon on another mission,” Andor says to his brother. “I need the raven to visit Brynla’s aunt Ellestra Doon in the Dark City. Tell her that Brynla is safe and will be coming to take her out of the Banished Land and that she should be prepared to leave in a month.”
A whole moon cycle?
How on earth will I wait that long?
Chapter 13
Andor
“She certainly knows how to fight,” Solla remarks as she leans against the stone table beside me, watching as Steiner and Brynla battle it out with wooden swords in the middle of the courtyard. It’s morning, a clear crisp day, the sun just starting to dry the overnight rain from the foliage, and Brynla’s daily training session is nearly halfway through.
“She certainly does,” I say. My eyes are locked on Brynla’s form, not just the fluidity of her movements, the way she seems to anticipate Steiner’s next move, but on her actual body. The leather armor that Steiner engineered and had our seamstress create, crafted from none other than dragonscale, hugs every supple curve, from her firm ass to her breasts, even the soft roundness of her stomach. I shouldn’t be watching her in this way—I should be paying attention to her strikes and her footwork and figuring out what she needs to work on—but I can’t help it.
“Though she is fighting against Steiner,” I add as Brynla knocks Steiner’s sword from his hand. “Even you would win against Steiner.”
“Hey,” Solla says in annoyance, and then wipes her hands—caked with dirt from her garden—on my sleeve.
I flick the dirt off. “Using your mind powers doesn’t count. You can’t use telekinesis on a dragon.”
“How do you know?” she asks smartly. “Have you ever tried?”
“No. And you’ll never get to try either.”
“What if I want to become an egg thief too?”
I give my sister a dry look. “I wouldn’t allow it. Your place is here, at Stormglen. Someone has to be the lady of the house and Margarelle isn’t going to be around forever.”
“As long as Brynla’s here, there will be two women of the house,” she says. I don’t like the teasing look in her eyes, the way she’s smiling.
“Brynla is a—”
“Prisoner, I know.” She lets out a long sigh and then rests her head against my shoulder. “I’ve just never seen a prisoner treated so well. She wears my dresses, sleeps in the nicest guest quarters, is allowed to eat dinner with us, has the seamstress making her custom attire, has a dog that’s treated better than Grandfather when he comes to visit. She’s only been here ten days and it feels like she’s here to stay. Not to mention the way you look at her.”
I shrug her off my shoulder. “What do you mean, how I look at her?”
“It’s disgusting,” she says, curling her lip for emphasis.
“You’re wearing the fool’s crown,” I tell her, pressing my hand against her face and pushing her away. “Go back to your garden and busy yourself. I think you’re running out of pastimes.”