Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Jasher’s wing brushed my uninjured side, practically a caress. “I’ll make a bargain with you. Rye.” He spoke softly, for my ears alone. “You tell no one my name, and I’ll tell no one yours.”
I arched a brow and replied in the same low volume. “You’ll keep a secret from the Guardian, without being compelled?” Or would he spill to Ian at the first opportunity? Not just my name, but the time loops. The Ember. My family ties.
He could ruin everything.
Hello, complications. I white-knuckled the strap of the backpack.
“The Guardian,” Jasher grated, “will find young me. What he’ll do with him—me—I don’t know.”
Oooh. He wasn’t interested in a bargain, I realized. Not really. He wanted a command, just in case Ian attempted to wield his influence to pry information from him. A move to spare young Jasher from retaliation or scrutiny. Current Jasher just didn’t want to admit it.
And how badly did I want to meet young Jasher?
Still at low volume, I stated, “I refuse to bargain about this, Tinman. I forbid you from telling anyone anything. About me. About you. About our situation.”
I expected more taunts about enjoying my power a little too much, despite his almost-admission, but he dipped his chin in a gesture of… thanks?
“From this point on, I ask that you both remain quiet,” Captain Rourke said, on alert. He darted his gaze as if he expected an attack at any moment. “Because of the storm, monstra might be in the area. Noise attracts them.”
I nodded my agreement and looked to Jasher for the same. He was glowering now. He even bared his teeth and extended his middle finger at me.
Okay, so, he was upset that we’d had a moment. Noted.
Over the next several hours, we trekked through charred fields and cut through abandoned villages. Jasher never made a sound. Any animals we came across bolted. Occasionally, Kevin spoke from within the pack.
“I run on gears and poor decisions.”
“I have no advice. Only expert opinions.”
“Confidence level: medium. Battery level: concerning.”
The guards yearned to snatch the toy from my pack and smash it to smithereens, as evidenced by their glares, but no one made a move against me. Or Jasher. I had a feeling he would protect Kev with his life.
Great. I was now jealous of the toy.
We reached a series of burning tar pits, and an idea I couldn’t shake took root. Here might be the best place and means to destroy my father’s journal, removing it from this loop, ensuring Ian couldn’t use it to bring down the royals.
No better idea came. My stomach twisted.
Hating myself, the world, my circumstances, I withdrew the precious book. Held on until the last possible second… then…
No. Don’t do it.
Change requires change.
I dropped it into the flames.
There. It was done, and there was no going back. Ian couldn’t use it against my family, so, win. But dang. I hadn’t even read half of my father’s stories, prompts, and suggestions. Now, I never would.
“Secrets never stay dead,” Jasher intoned softly, earning glares from the men. He didn’t care. “You can glean the information from the one who wrote it.”
He wasn’t wrong, and I appreciated the offer of comfort. When I smiled at him, he pursed his lips.
As the sun set on the horizon, we came to an iron bridge that stretched over a roiling gorge.
“We’re here,” Captain Rourke breathed out.
Relief swept over the soldiers while I battled a jumble of dread and excitement. I might be mere minutes away from meeting my father. Seeing my mother again, now even younger than before.
The bridge led to a wall of smoke so thick I couldn’t see past it—until I could. My jaw dropped as our surroundings gelled. A wall of riveted iron and gold bricks. Countless murder holes and archer slots. Armed guards stood along the top. They even crowded the ground before it.
When shouts of “the monstra has arrived” rang out, it was clear the scout the captain sent ahead had arrived. My dread intensified.
Soldiers readied their weapons, keeping my companion in their sights. Jasher maintained his bored demeanor as I moved closer to act as his shield.
“Your hero complex is getting ridiculous,” he muttered.
Please. “Your supervillain routine is already exhausting. And stop flirting. This is a serious moment.”
He gave the barest snort. His second of the day.
The entrance slowly opened, allowing us to enter without pause. Soldiers cast us menacing looks, not even trying to hide their disdain. I kept my head up.
Strategically positioned within the remains of a once-thriving market stood more armed soldiers. I recognized this spot. I gasped. From my vision. The battlefield where Morris had climbed the hill and Andrea had risen in the sky.
Crumbling wooden stalls with torn, faded canopies lined the cobblestone streets, where weeds sprouted between the cracks. Rusted lanterns hung from crooked poles, swaying gently in the breeze, casting eerie shadows over long-forgotten wares. Tattered bolts of silk, broken crates of spices, and shattered dishes were all coated in dust. A sad sight.