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)
“Oh look, there’s Constantinos.”
I snap my gaze across the courtyard to Quin’s stubborn cheekbones and poise. The sight is a slice of light cutting through the dimness of the garden, enough to make me blink. He’s not just Quin. Not just Nicostratus’s brother.
He is the king.
My shield jerks and expands with vines of shimmery blue roses, then fires out in a multiplying boom into the courtyard.
Nicostratus steers my hands and helps me rein it in. “I’m perhaps not the best person to practice with in this instance. Constantinos!”
I drop my shield and the roses burst into petals that disappear in a waft of perfume as they hit the ground. I palm Nicostratus’s knuckles at my stomach, my palms sweaty as I clutch him tight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
I dare another glance at this new figure before me and murmur under my tongue, “It looks like he’ll use the opportunity to kill me.”
Nicostratus’s laughter is as genuine as he is. “He’ll do no such thing.”
Across the courtyard, Quin raises a daring brow.
“Nevertheless,” I say.
“Calm, calm. I want to grab some crude weapons to test it. Constantinos, help out for a minute.” Nicostratus lets go of me and whisks away.
The ground seeps cold through the soles of my boots. A few drops of rain pelt my face and my breath is a large cloud clawing after Quin, who is—who is turning away.
Relief is a bubbling shiver rolling up from my feet to my chest and back down again. Except, wait. What am I doing? He might be king, but he’s also Nicostratus’s brother. Also just Quin. There are things I need to ask Quin.
Ignoring a lurching hop in my belly, I chase after him, sliding over stones to his side and landing a hand under his around the cane.
He slides his fingers up from brushing mine; I catch my breath and fumble a short bow. “I haven’t seen you.”
“Entirely intentional.”
“I know you’re worried about your brother, but I’ve been careful—”
“Watch how close you are.”
“Sorry?”
“Our uncle surely has spies about, and you have your hands all over one another.” He pivots towards the entrance to the queen’s palace.
“He’s teaching me to hold a shield. Anyone can see that it’s innocent.”
Quin pauses for a moment and continues striding away with a hollow laugh.
He summons magic to open the doors ahead and they rattle and slam against the outer stone. My stomach jumps like an echo. My teeth rattle. I grit them. I haven’t seen Quin since the night spent on my knees. I’d approached him with a good attitude. Why is he acting like this?
“Wait.”
The air tightens. It’s so quiet the frustrated thump of my heart pounds in my ears. Slowly, Quin turns. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”
There’s a new glimmer in his eyes—cold, stubborn.
I drop to my knees, forcing reverence. “Your majesty.”
He draws back, boots and cane crunching over grit. He’s about to leave. Urgency has me scrambling forward on my knees. “What about taking me out of the royal city with you?”
Quin pauses; the rich scent of uncertainty leaks from him.
“Or—or better, a pass to visit my family?”
Cool words prickle against my downturned head, race over my scalp and neck. “My uncle might have dismissed your part in recent events, but he’s a suspicious man; he’ll be keeping tabs on all of you. If he finds you’ve irregular permission to leave the city, he might decide to play safe instead of sorry.”
I snap my head up.
I’ve spent the last month hoping I might soon get to visit Mother and Father, Akilah, my brothers and nieces. It seems that’s out of the question. I sink onto my haunches.
Quin shifts slightly, uncomfortable, grip white on his cane. I rein in the impulse to check his leg and offer him relief. He’s too volatile; the thought of sliding my fingers along his wrist and reading his pulse . . . He’d snatch my hand and his gaze hitting mine would be terrifying.
I suppress a shiver. “May I ask for a different reward?”
“You hurt my brother. That’s not something I can forget easily.”
I swallow. “I accepted punishment for that. I didn’t heal myself, either.”
Quin frowns. “You didn’t—you knelt all night, on hard ground. It rained!”
“Please?” I murmur.
“What?”
“Grant permission for Florentius and me to go to his brother. On the other island.”
A streak of fear and pain lances through Quin; his hand shifts and whitens around his cane. “No.”
I raise plaintive eyes to his.
“No.”
“But—”
“No.” Quin throws out a spell. It first hits hard against the clasp on my cloak, which breaks and clatters to the ground along with the fabric it had held together. The spell slides over me like a blanket, suctions close until my body is enclosed in a quiet, glowing hum.
“What is this?”
“A reminder. Keep your distance, or you’ll find my patience has limits.”