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)
“It’s supposed to be a flutette. Infused against pain.” I glance at his leg. “Press it to your mouth, you’ll feel it take effect. Play a calming melody and the effect should double.”
He stares at the pocket-sized flutette.
“You have a connection with air, a wind instrument made the most sense . . .”
He feels each carved nook.
“It should last a year before it needs to be infused again.”
He slips the instrument inside his cloak.
“It’s not as effective as the spell through your acupoints, but when pain flares up, playing gentle music will alleviate the worst of it. For any pain.”
He presses his palm against the pocket and drops his fingers.
“I still need to learn more about how to manipulate sound to improve the result, but—”
“Thank you.”
My shoulders relax and I laugh shakily, leaning back against the roof, my cloak spilling behind me. I stare up at the twinkling stars. “I should head home.” I grin. “I have something to prove tomorrow.”
“Indeed.” Quin drops a badge onto my stomach. “This will get you the use of my rooms at my academy. They have pecan puffs too. Enjoy another hour. Eat and sleep there.”
“What about you?”
“I have other places.”
I tie the badge to my belt, alongside my soldad and various other pouches—really, I left home with far too many—
“How did you get those?” Quin stares tightly at the beads on my belt and lunges for them.
“Give them back. They were given to me.”
His face pales as he inspects them, and his voice comes out scratched. “By who?”
I’m quiet. I promised to keep Nicostratus’s identity secret. I’m afraid, though. If he works with officials in the palace, Quin must recognise the beads.
He’s gripping them now, his gaze dark and tight.
“Please give them back.”
A hollow, broken laugh and a furious whisper, “Prince Nicostratus? Are you out of your mind?”
I snatch the beads from him and tie them tightly to my belt.
“You’re . . . He’s . . .”
I snap, “Are you also against the prince?”
A blank stare. The slow, disbelieving shake of his head. A deep, confused frown.
“Are you?” I demand.
Quin’s jaw clenches, his frown deepening. “I’m one of the few looking out for him!”
“If you’re not against him, then is it me you have a problem with?”
“You . . .” His hands grip my arms, his face paling. “You’re the reason—” He shakes me, inspects me, face flashing with fury—“You were condemned? About to be executed?”
Is this important?
“I used some of Nicostratus’s beads to get to the cells—Akilah had been falsely accused. The redcloaks— It doesn’t matter. We’re safe, thanks to Nicostratus.”
Quin throws his head skyward. “This is—” He stops cold. Turns to me. “You said he was summoned home?”
“An aklo had his brother’s badge. Why are you looking like that? The king is one of the few people Nicostratus trusts!”
Quin’s hands are a blur of urgent movement. Wind surges around and under him instantly; he’s hoisted into the air and then dropped into his saddle below.
I’m left sprawled on roof tiles where I was tossed off his cloak. I pick myself up and clamber down from the roof, onto a tree, to the cobbled street. What is going on?
I swallow and touch Nicostratus’s beads. He promised to send word when he could. I have to believe everything’s fine. Quin was . . . he was surprised. He has to seek answers, possibly from the prince himself . . . Maybe my having his beads puts him in a difficult position?
I feel for the beads among the pouches on my belt again, and my stomach curdles.
I check all again, thoroughly, in case I missed it.
My Poison Halting Miracle.
Gone.
My first attempts to recreate my innovation are fraught with mental distractions. In a fit of frustration, I accidentally blow up a vase in Quin’s room. I groan at the thought of having to explain that.
I sink into a carved chair, drumming my fingers on the armrest. I need to clear my mind of Nicostratus, Quin, and all distractions. Tomorrow is crucial. If I don’t pass, my dream ends here.
The loss of my Poison Halting Miracle weighs heavily on me. I remember the last time I had it, back in this very academy. In the chaos of leaving, someone had bumped into me. Could that have . . .
I exhale sharply, shaking off the frustration. I can’t let this defeat me.
Straightening up, I resume my work. It’s a tedious process that involves consuming various teas, which fortunately the kitchens supply. The spell usually burns hot in my hand, but my gloves protect me. I gather the spell and, with practised precision, release it. A swirling ball of mist forms in the air. I manipulate it, condensing and capturing it.
Exhausted but relieved, I lean back in the chair and gaze up at the star-studded ceiling window. It’s as if my forefathers and River are cheering me on.