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)
At least I’m useful for something, I think, though I wish it weren’t wrapped around her pain.
Then she reaches out and takes my mug from me. “May I?”
Before I can say anything she finishes the rest of the grog. I take it from her fingers before she drops it, studying her as if she’ll give me any sort of hint as to why she’s drinking like a fish.
“Are you all right?” I ask. “Because you’re drinking rum grog like you’re not all right. Even Toombs wouldn’t drink that much, that fast, and he has that for his breakfast.”
“I’m just a little anxious,” she says, rubbing her hands together as she looks up at the moon. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I get there. I don’t know if Ellestra will leave with us, if she’ll put up a fuss if I leave, if she’ll try to kill you. If Lemi will decide he doesn’t want to leave. I don’t know. That city has always felt like my home—whether I wanted to claim it or not—and the idea of saying goodbye scares me. In a good way, maybe, but…I know once I leave, I won’t ever go back. And though the people there can seem dejected and hardened, they are kind in a rough sort of way and loyal, and I fit in there. I don’t fit in when it comes to Norland, and especially not the Kolbecks.”
“I don’t want you to fit in,” I tell her. “I want you to stay the way you are. Let everyone else adapt.”
“Easy for you to say,” she says, glancing at me with a caustic smile.
My chest flares with indignation. “It’s not easy for me to say. I don’t adapt. I struggle with it.”
She takes in the tone of my voice. “Nothing ever seems like a struggle to you, Andor.”
I shake my head. “I’m the black sheep of the family. The outcast. Everyone has their place in the family business except for me. Because I refuse to do it their way…” I trail off, knowing that’s not quite true. “Or should I say, it’s not because I won’t do it, but because I can’t. I’ve tried, time and time again, to do the role like my uncle has. I’ve tried to be the master of the coins, to run the numbers, to stay organized on the raids, keep track of the substances Steiner produces and how much money the armies need, but I couldn’t do it. I just can’t. My brain doesn’t work that way, it’s as if it physically won’t let me. It’s like a slab of stone falls in front of my thoughts and I can’t get through. I fuck things up left and right, I forget things, I’m a disaster. And no matter how hard I try to be the person my father wants me to be, I just can’t.”
I let out a shaking breath and look out to the waves. “So I adapt but in the only way I can. I find something else, something that no one else will do, because no one else is foolish enough to do it.”
“I steal eggs too,” she says.
“Yes, and you got paid for it. I don’t get paid for it. I do it because it’s the only way to feel like I’m contributing, to feel like I’m some use. I know my father could hire out thieves—I bet he’d love to keep you onboard and lose me in the process. But as long as I do the job and I’m good enough at it, I’m doing my part. And yet…I’m still on the fringes of the family. I don’t belong. I’m just Andor, the son my father wishes he’d never had.” I peer inside the glass. “Fuck. Now I’m the one who could drink a whole one of these.”
She reaches out and puts her hand over mine. “Your father is an idiot, Andor. Your uncle too. You make them feel small because you are out here risking your life and slaying dragons and getting the very product that keeps your house in business. They’re jealous and they’ll always be jealous of you, because you know who you are and you don’t give a fuck if someone has a problem with it. Now, where do we get more grog? Apparently we both need it tonight.”
We start walking down the deck and she’s starting to wobble a little, the drinks finally hitting her. Once we’re downstairs, the card game is already underway.
“I thought you wanted Brynla to join in,” I say to Feet while gesturing at Toombs to get me two more things of rum grog.
“I couldn’t wait,” Feet says, shuffling his cards. “I’m itching to earn some goddess gold before we get to the Dark City. I want to buy one of those fabled lava teas that make women horny when they drink it.” He looks at Brynla. “Do those teas really exist?”