Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Every bone in my body is heavy. I trudge through a sleeping city, shrouded by the shadows of my own frown. It feels like I’m doing something wrong. But what else should I do? My memories with Nicostratus, and my memories with Quin . . . even put together they’re a fraction of those the brothers share.
How can I come between them?
My feet clack against cobblestone and, amidst the first stirrings of the marketplace, I throw my head up and glare towards the heavens. Why is this so hard? Why does it feel like losing my magic all over again?
“That’s him!”
I snap my head down. A townsman is jerking a finger in my direction, and two on-duty constables head towards me. Too late. There’s nowhere to hide and no time to run. I shrink back several steps, cursing under my breath, and am forced to give in when I’m apprehended.
“This is him,” the first constable confirms.
“Could be he killed Vitalian Dimos too.”
My stomach sinks.
“And tried to murder Eparch Valerius.” One of them shoves me. “How’d you get in? Dress up, did you? Delivery man? Aklo? Pretend to be a vitalian?”
They shake their heads in disgust. “Saw the wreckage of the garden.”
“Always more sympathy for flowers than people.”
“Can’t trust people. Flowers at least you know what you’re getting.” Roughly, they drag me to the constabulary, where the head constable eyes me for a grimacing moment. He vaguely recalls seeing me before, when Prince Nicostratus had been framed. “Put him behind bars,” he tells his men. “We’ll interrogate him after the drakopagon.”
I’m shoved into a cell in the inner courtyard with a handful of other men—two passed out drunk, and three more with their heads resting on bent knees. I land on straw and the iron gate clangs. The snick of the lock sends a cold shiver through me.
Given the chance, I can prove I’m not involved in these hideous crimes. It’s also explainable why I’ve been difficult to track. But having to wait is frustrating. Not the time itself, but that it’ll give Quin the chance to discover my whereabouts. He’ll hear it from his colleagues, and he’ll come, right after investigating at the drakopagon. He’ll do everything to make sure I’m swiftly released, and I . . .
Will have to face him.
I scramble around on my knees and stare wistfully at the keys dangling from the belts of the constables crossing the courtyard. Come back. I shake the bars, testing their might, hopeful one might bend and let me escape.
Someone snickers. I glance to the three men sitting against the back wall, heads raised to watch me, and gasp.
I recognise them, from the morning doling out porridge to refugees. “You’re—”
“You’re wasting your time.”
I look at the bars I’m gripping and let them go, sagging against the adjacent wall with a deep sigh. “You’ll be acquitted soon,” I tell them. At least someone should get good news. “You won’t be here much longer.”
None seems particularly surprised by this. “You don’t seem surprised by this.”
The man who snickered strokes his goatee with a warm smile. “We believe in our king. He’s asked for our patience; promised our freedom.”
I stare at each of them—the goatee, the crooked nose, the frowner. “Why do you believe in him?”
Crooked Nose in the middle, polishing his circling wyvern button, answers, “We schooled with him. Knew him before he was poisoned, and after. We’ve seen him stand up for classmates bullied by the high duke’s allies, we’ve seen him pretend to be a merchant and donate his personal monies to orphanages and aid. We’ve seen him pick himself up after countless falls. If he makes a promise, he fulfils it. He’ll get us out of here. He’ll get his kingdom back.”
Frowner cocks his head and eyes me sharply, “Do you believe in him?”
I laugh painfully against a reel of flashing memories. I don’t know exactly the moment it happened, but somewhere along the way I not only began believing in him, but became someone who would die for him.
I swallow hard and turn my face away from them. My focus quickly locks onto an unaccompanied figure traipsing through the courtyard. His short, hacked hair gives him away immediately.
As if by recognising him I’ve summoned him, he looks up and his gaze clasps onto me. His step falters, and then he’s storming towards the cells, fists balled at his sides. “You.” He grabs hold of the iron bars and glares down at me. His anger seeps around him like charcoal smoke. He’s par-linea like I am—like I was.
“You poisoned my nannan.”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry for your loss. I promise you, I didn’t harm her.”
His anger swells along with his uncontrolled magic, like plumes now. “She shouldn’t have gone like this. Shouldn’t have suffered. Shouldn’t have had to stay so many days here.”