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)
“So I did.”
Heads cock. “Ready for tomorrow?”
I instinctively feel for the pouch containing my Poison Halting Miracle, and meet their gazes. “We’ll see.”
I smile politely and back up a few steps, bumping into a fellow guest as I go. I murmur an apology and turn, but whoever I trod on has been swallowed by a fresh crowd of arrivals.
The bells are chiming six o’clock in the distance when I squeeze my way outside. I’m late.
I race down the darkening street. Roll my ankle jumping over an icy ditch. I try to spell it—fail. That one drink mocks my magic. I hobble down the snowy length of the canal, past the busy thoroughfares to a quieter, antique bridge at the edge of town.
A hooded figure paces the crest, breezes ruffling his cloak behind him, glorious and mysterious in the burgeoning moonlight.
I smile at the sight and climb the bridge, out of breath.
Nicostratus whips around, relieved. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”
“I just . . . I passed the first day. We all had a drink.”
He moves to the railing and stares down at the half-frozen water. “I understand.” But he adds softly, “It’s difficult for me to find time for us.”
I tug on his sleeve. “Sorry.”
He pulls me in and sighs against my forehead. “You’re here, that’s what matters.”
His lips linger, tickling my skin. He pulls back slowly, but only an inch. My breath catches, and his eyes drop to my lips. I rock back on my heels, breaking the connection, unsure of his expectations. Further down the canal, dozens of couples are holding hands along the bank. He steps closer, tucking his mouth against my ear. “I don’t expect anything. Don’t be nervous.”
A deep breath leaves me.
I grab at the pouch on my belt, draw out the armband I carved for him and slip it over his wrist. “This is for you.”
He angles his arm against the moonlight and slowly twists the wood around. “You made this yourself?”
“With the wood you gave me. The first time we met.”
He furrows his brow as he inspects the carving. He twists it around once more, resting his elbows on the bridge railing, and glances at me softly.
I lean against the railing and pause a moment as I gaze down at the cold river. Is this what it should feel like?
A flash of a memory—Maskios and that year—has me gripping the rail. The escape into the boat. Landing on his lap. Lovelights speckling the sky above us.
I shake off the shivers and yank my head determinedly to Nicostratus.
He smiles, but it soon fades. “I’m moving back into the palace.”
I frown. “Isn’t that the most dangerous place you can be?”
“Sometimes the most dangerous place is the safest. I’m under threat no matter where I am, much to my brother’s exasperation. He wants me closer, to protect me better. If I hand in my military seal and weaken myself visibly in front of the court, my uncle might just keep a watchful eye on me instead of trying to eliminate me. It’s only a little over a year before Constantinos can announce his son as heir to the throne.”
“Will it be better for you after that?”
“Better for me.” His lips twist downwards. “Worse for Constantinos.”
“Why?”
“My uncle hates me now because if Constantinos passes, I would take the throne and I have military support to enforce it. But Constantinos has always known that after he announces his son as heir, he’ll become the next target.”
“He will?”
“It’s far more appealing to be regent and control a five-year-old than to extort an adult.”
Extort?
“If he can see my every move . . . if I can act unthreatening . . . He can’t overtly attack me in the palace. He’d have to be extremely cunning or Constantinos will finally have a chance to be rid of him. I’ll be safe enough. For a while.”
A rush of movement and the clop of hooves up the bridge has us spinning around. Nicostratus pulls me by the wrist behind him. A palace aklo slows his horse to a halt, another trailing, saddled, behind him.
“What is it?” Nicostratus asks, voice deep and commanding.
The aklo’s face is expressionless. He holds out a badge. “The king requests your presence.”
The grip on my wrist loosens. Nicostratus twists to me. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“When will we . . .”
“It may be more difficult in the coming year. I’ll send word.” He unhooks the beads at his belt and tucks them into my hand, pressing my fingers tight.
I squeeze them as he leaps astride the spare horse and looks at me one last time before he turns towards the palace.
Absentmindedly, I fasten the beads onto my belt and limp my way around narrow streets towards town, glimpsing the boats on the canals, lit with lanterns. In the distance, fireworks boom. Are we both captivated by them as he hurries towards his responsibilities? Is he thinking of me too?