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)
He snorts at that. “I think I’m slowly winning you over.”
“Very slowly,” I tell him, but I’m smiling.
We finally step off onto the main level, Lemi ahead of us and sniffing each storefront that we pass. I recognize almost everyone, even if I don’t know their names, and while they generally nod or regard me with mild interest, they all eye Andor with suspicion. It’s estimated that there are several thousand people living in the Dark City, which is a lot of people, but because everything here is confined to a relatively small area, we get used to seeing each other. Anyone new stands out.
“This way,” I tell Andor, following Lemi down a tunnel that heads off to the right, passing through a candlemaker’s shop and a café that has tasty but expensive desserts crafted from cave bee honey.
“To get to my quarter we have to travel a ways down. You might find that the air pressure in your ears changes,” I say, rounding a bend until we’re faced with total darkness.
I come to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Andor asks.
Unease prickles my scalp. “It’s too dark. This passage is usually lit.”
“I can see well enough,” he says.
I shake my head. “I don’t like this. We should go back and try another route.”
But when I turn around to face him, he’s gone.
Chapter 20
Andor
I watch as Brynla stops in the darkness, voicing her concerns about taking another route. But before she can turn around to face me, there’s a blade at my throat.
Every instinct tells me to twist backward, away from the sharp edge, and flip over the attacker behind me, but then another blade is poised at my spine, the point hard enough to break the skin.
Then the attacker moves sideways, using their legs to trip up mine, spinning me around all while keeping both blades in the exact same position, showcasing a skill in motion that I’ve rarely seen, and then I’m thrown against the wall. The blade now moves to the side of my throat, right under the jaw, a piercing pain.
“Andor!” Brynla cries out, and I find it curious that Lemi hasn’t tried to jump to my defense. Perhaps the hound isn’t as loyal to me as I thought.
“I’ve got him,” says a woman’s voice at my ear, cool and confident.
“Ellestra?” Brynla croaks. Of course this is her fucking aunt. I suppose I was expecting our meet to start violently. “Stop! Let him go. He’s with me.”
“I know he’s with you,” Ellestra says, still not taking her knives away. “That’s why he’s not dead yet. After that bloody magicked raven came to deliver the message, I wasn’t about to take my chances. Figured this was a trap of some sort.”
“It’s not a trap,” I tell her, speaking my words carefully so that she doesn’t puncture my throat.
She grunts at my ear. “Now is the time to tell me the truth, Bryn. Say the word and I’ll put him down easy.”
Brynla sighs and I hear her stomp over to us, and then suddenly the knives are gone.
“I said stop it,” Brynla says. “He’s with me.”
“And you’re with him,” her aunt says bitterly. But she steps away from me, leaving me to properly exhale and turn around, facing both women.
Brynla’s aunt looks nothing like I expected. From the way she handled me I assumed she’d be a tall woman with as much muscle as I have, but instead she’s thin and wiry, not much taller than Brynla, and looks much older than I thought. Her eyes are sharp and light, though their exact color is hard to tell in the dark, and her hair is dark and cut short to her ears. Her clothes are black and tight, making her look like a shadow, and her knives are swiftly put back in secret compartments.
Her face is a scowl as she looks me up and down, but when she looks at Brynla her expression doesn’t change. I can already see where Brynla gets her demeanor from.
“Not exactly the welcome I was hoping for,” Brynla says, giving me a brief, vaguely apologetic look.
“What did you expect?” Ellestra says. “For the red carpet to be rolled out and trumpeters to descend from the heavens?” But there’s a wryness to her tone and just a fleeting glimpse of a smile.
Then the tension seems to break as Ellestra pulls Brynla into a tight embrace. I’m watching Brynla’s face closely. The wariness and anxiety seem to disappear, melting into something like security and comfort. Love. Her brows soften, her face becoming innocent and younger somehow, causing a pang between my ribs.
All at once I feel both envious and deeply ashamed. I’m the one who blackmailed Brynla into leaving her one remaining family member, her friend, her blood. I pulled her away from this city and this life. I never once thought that Brynla might have missed her aunt, or yearned for this life, a life I now see I knew nothing about. I never considered her own feelings in what I was doing—I was too focused on what she could do for me. At most I thought I was taking her away from something awful, as if I were doing her a favor. I needed to think that in order to justify what I was doing.