Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
He draws away from me and stares across the room. “Nicostratus watched you fade in my arms. He was poisoned getting you to a mage before it was too late.”
Quin and me, plummeting to the courtyard. Nicostratus cradling me against a frantic heartbeat as he raced to Florentius. Quin exhausting the last of his strength to command the wyverns from the palace and away from his people.
My heart hammers.
“You’ve been asleep for hours,” Quin says. “In that time, we’ve made my uncle furious and recovered most of our mages.”
“Is Nicostratus—”
“He’s been called back to the barracks.”
“But he needs rest—”
“If he doesn’t obey, my uncle won’t spare him. He already suspects he helped me fight.”
Nicostratus’s bruises flash to my mind and my stomach twists. “They’re abusing him there.”
Quin says nothing.
“You know it. How could you let your brother—”
“He has to keep up a show of weakness, vulnerability. It’s better than death.”
“You should be there for him.”
“I’m exactly where I need to be.” Quin stops me when I open my mouth to speak. “My brother has been hunted for years, always moving to stay safe, never able to form friendships beyond his aklos. He recently lost his mother, and he’s stuck in the palace where to stay alive he has to let redcloaks openly hurt him.” He looks towards me, eyes glazed in deeper musing. “You are the one bit of light he’s begged me to protect.”
I swallow. That’s why Quin is here. Not to behead me (just yet). To watch over me on his brother’s behalf.
He shakes himself and delivers an admonishing glance. “You don’t make it easy.”
“You’d have died out there,” I say stubbornly. “I’d do it again.”
He rubs at his frown, displeased but resigned. “Stay in here a few more days.”
I scramble onto my knees. “What? Why?”
“Because I need you to.”
I frown questioningly.
Quin grimaces. “Our uncle is on the hunt for who dared transfuse my blood. He’ll question all the mages regarding their whereabouts. The queen and Florentius will keep your secret.”
“What about—”
“Everyone else saw only a blond man in a mask. There are many blond men about.” He pulls my mask from his cloak and studies it. “I’ll have this discovered outside the royal city. Florentius will reseal the archway. Spell your way out in front of Chiron after three days.”
He shifts and another wave of agony punches out of him.
I hiss sharply, reach under his collar, and pull out the flute.
He slaps a hand over it, crushing it against his chest. At my insistent fingers under his palm, he jerks his away. I lift the flute and shove it between his parting lips. Whatever barking words he has for me become squealed, random notes and immediately, his pain ebbs.
The same can’t be said of his glare.
“Health comes first,” I say. Then, at a lethal spark in his eye, add, “Your Majesty.”
The flute drops from Quin’s mouth and swings at his chest. He looks from it to the mask he’s still holding. “You’re shameless. But you have some clever ideas.”
“All from this priceless head.”
He flicks my priceless head. “You saved many today. Name your reward.”
I straighten eagerly. “Really?”
“Anything within my means.”
I gnaw on my lips a moment. Anything within his means . . . “About transferring me,” I begin. “I was strangely upset about that prospect.”
His gaze flies to mine. “You want to stay assigned to my quarters?”
“But upon reflection,” I continue, “if I never have to see pearl heart again, I’ll die happy.” I raise my hands. “Not that I’m planning to die anytime soon.”
He stares at me, blinking, then tiredly shuts his eyes.
I lean in. “Can the queen transfer me to her palace?”
“Transfers are trivial. Name another.”
Did that mean he accepted this, and would grace me another gift? “Can Nicostratus teach me some basic shielding skills?”
His eyes flash. “Is there anything you want from me?”
I blink. A reward from him . . .
Quin heaves himself up with his cane and turns his back on me. I bolt off the bed and he pauses before he goes. “Take me with you the next time you sneak out.”
Florentius has streaks of red on one cheek that possibly fit the shape of my hand. I wince and throw him a smile. “I heard you brought me back from the brink of extinction.”
His hands pause, pulsing with magic. “You were lucky the king’s aklas banded together and donated blood.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
Both cheeks flush. “You, ah, saved me too.”
I rock back on my chair, fingers linked behind my head, and look at him. “This counts as bonding.”
A shimmery layer races up the arch, and I suspect its speed is purposeful. I laugh, but deeper inside is a tender pang. How valiantly Florentius fought for those children.
He whisks around but his dramatic exit is blocked by Makarios and Mikros, racing along the balcony side by side.