Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“My husband is Philaretos Monomachos—”
“Monomachos?”
Mistress smiles smugly.
An odd twist plays at Quin’s lips. “He’s low in the ranks.”
“How would you know?”
He leans forward, gaze tightening on her in a way that makes even me shiver. “I happen to be very close to his superior.”
Mistress smartens right up at the threat; with an aggrieved huff, she calls her dog and her men and leaves.
With the others gone, the air settles into an uneasy calm, broken only by birdsong and the rustle of leaves. I push off my aching knees to wobbly feet, tension lingering in my chest. “I was afraid if I were brought to the notice of the courts, my par-linea status might be uncovered. Thank you. You saved my life.”
“If you’d spelled that woman, I’d call it godly comeuppance.”
“She was ruthless, but . . . I did give her a fright.”
“Why practice in those gardens at all? Why not here?”
I lean towards him, smirking. “These pavilions are far too pretty.”
“But the queen’s plum tree can be forfeited?”
My levity wanes. I slide on a remorseful, yet hopeful smile. “Thank you for not telling anyone about this?”
Quin shakes his head sharply, and for a heartbeat, I think he will tell, but then his lips curl into a huffed grimace. “You’re much too troublesome to die that easily.”
“The right amount of trouble for your . . . troubles?”
A single barked laugh escapes before he presses his lips into a firm line. “Could you possibly trouble me more?”
A flicker of something rises in my chest, like he’s goading me—like I want to rise to it. I swallow the heat down and step back.
Quin lifts his boot and slides his silk-socked foot inside. “Where did you learn to deliver relief like that?”
“It’s a commoner’s trick.”
“Oh?”
“Time to recover from ailments is not often possible. We’ll try anything to numb pain.”
“Never thought that’d lead to better medicating than the upper classes have access to.”
My jaw tightens. “For all I’m thankful for your help just now, please show some compassion.”
His eyes flash. “You—”
“Commoners might have ways to overcome pain, but they have those ways because they aren’t entitled time to heal the source of their troubles. Their life-expectancy is twenty years less than the nobility.”
Quin’s lips flatten into a tight line. “Going to call out your useless king again?”
I step back and incline my head. “I don’t need to.”
Quin flings the book he’d been reading against a beam, the sharp sound making me jump. “Do you think a kingdom can survive on canals and farmland alone?”
“It can’t survive on injustice,” I counter, stepping closer. “But you and your gold-threaded underpants wouldn’t understand, would you?”
The lines of Quin’s face grow harder, colder. “Do you think you’re the only one suffering under this kingdom’s flaws?”
His words cut deep, a flicker of something—frustration, guilt, something far heavier—breaking through his polished exterior before he sucks it back in again.
I tear my gaze from his. “I’ll leave first.”
“Get back here.”
I walk away calmly. We might keep meeting, but I don’t need Quin in my life. I have Akilah, and fate has blessed me with Silvius too. These are people whose presence adds something to my life. Quin . . . only has a knack for getting under my skin.
I wave without looking back. “Thank you for your help,” I say, the distance growing between us. “I won’t bother you again.”
River—once a starveling vespertine—is now healthy and fit, a trusted messenger between Silvius and me. But today, his usual enthusiasm is supplanted by quiet sorrow.
“What’s wrong?”
He passes me a sealed letter. As I rip it open and read, a heavy weight settles in my chest. Akilah leans in, her chin resting on my shoulder as she peers at the paper.
“His mother has passed away,” I murmur. “He has buried her in her hometown.”
The weeping ink and these hectic lines . . . one could never prepare for the final goodbye. I look at River, the bags under his eyes. It must have been a tough few days. “Wait while I respond.”
River hovers uncertainly in the doorway of my workroom while I write my condolences. “I’m to remain in the capital after delivering his letter. He’s expecting to arrive soon; he hopes you’ll meet him at the morning market the day after tomorrow.”
After so long. “I’ll be there.” Nervously, I open the box holding the dried iqi husk Silvius gifted me and tuck the letter alongside the dozen others he’s sent over the months.
Akilah arrives with a steaming bowl of soup before I even have a chance to ask her to get some. I usher the exhausted boy into a chair; he takes the time to savour the soup and I check him over surreptitiously. He seems to have grown, in body and demeanour—Silvius takes good care of him.
I make sure he has enough energy for the journey to his ever-changing lodgings, spell him a little extra to speed him on his way, and promise to visit tomorrow.