Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Skriniaris Evander picks up his cat and strokes her, staring hard into a thought hovering in the middle distance. “The regent . . . he has a dramatic personality. He likes having an audience.”
Like with his poisoned wyverns during the spring gala. Or having me serve Quin life-shortening tea during the crowning ceremony. Or making me choose between a stamp on my soldad and Akilah’s lovelight during an examination—and having it taken from her anyway. He wants to be feared and revered. He craves to be seen.
“We believe the king’s mother is also being held on that boat.”
“Not just her.” Bastion’s voice travels from half a hall behind me, and I blink hard in surprise. Did he follow me in the shadows, or—
His boots snick as he approaches.
The others acknowledge him like he’s an expected part of the company. He laughs darkly. “There’s a pretty boy I’ve been tailing, and he’s attracting a lot of unwanted attention. Had another stand-off with an assassin outside.”
I turn.
Bastion’s step hitches and his smile widens. “Husband!”
“Good grief.” I roll my eyes and he snaps me around the waist and whirls me around. I have to bat him off with my mask as he tries to peck kisses on me.
He gives up with a wink and shifts seamlessly from flirt, to vespertine with serious news. “It’s not just the king’s mother and the prince.” I recall Florentius staring wistfully towards that longboat and shiver. “It’s the survivors from the island too. He’ll free them all . . . if the royal vitalian team wins the contest.”
I slam my eyes shut. I can picture the faces on board that boat, ones I lived and worked with when I was trapped on the island. Fellow prisoners; comrades. And Florentius’s older brother . . .
He’s always yearned to free Lucius. He perfected his vitalian skills and entered the bloodthirsty royal city to save him.
My stomach dives hard through my feet. The regent is playing a game.
I shiver. “We have to save everyone on that boat.”
Bastion grimaces. “My men won’t be enough.”
The commander’s jaw twitches. “I have none, not anymore. I have some loyal friends, but . . . they may think it too risky.”
“The prins . . . ” I explain how he’s on our side, that he has been protecting the captive king as much as he can, how he is as invested in winning his freedom as I am. I explain that if . . . if we do win, we’ll have a tough time leaving. Perhaps the prins’ men can help free the longboat and in return they can support our escape.
“Even with his help we might only have a slim chance of saving those on board.”
Prince Nicostratus. Casimiria. Lucius . . .
I slam my eyes shut.
I dream vividly that night.
I’m on a cobbled street lined with blossoming trees. Beside one, I spot a carriage and a scarred aklo perched on the driver’s seat. In a giddy rush, I stop Quin’s aklo from announcing me and dive through the hangings into the plush carriage.
Quin keeps his eyes calmly on the book before him, and I slide along the bench until our knees bump. “Shouldn’t you be working, your majesty?”
Without looking up he drawls, “I snuck out to see you.”
I laugh and press a finger down on the cover until he looks at me. “If that’s the case, what’s with this book that you’re reading upside down?”
Quin pauses, quietly shuts the book, and sets it aside. Then in a flurry he hauls me onto the bench beside him. He calls for his aklo to head to his dance house. “How are the minions today?” he asks, eyes dancing over me.
“Running a school is exhausting. I love it.”
“You’re my son’s favourite teacher.”
“Well, I’m not supposed to admit this, but he’s my favourite too.” I wag a finger with a caveat. “But if he smuggles Generalus into my lesson again . . .”
Quin tips his head back with a laugh. “Just be happy he’s only smuggling his cat. He wants a pet wyvern.”
I shake my head, smirking, and then pause. “He’ll have to practice controlling them first. Perhaps a trip to Hinsard?”
Quin taps my growing smile. “You love it there.”
“It has our oak. And we can go past Kastoria—”
Quin growls, and mutters, “Vexing vespertine.”
I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “It’s nice travelling, though. Seeing how happy people are now.”
“Are you happy?” Quin asks softly.
“Let me mull it over.” I fling myself around so my knees are bent and the back of my head is nestled in his lap.
“Only you would use me as a pillow.”
I smile up at him. “Only I’m allowed to use you as a pillow.”
His lips curl as he strokes my hair, and the braid I wore today comes apart ticklishly between his fingers. “Only I’m allowed to do this.”