Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Farmer Pegus can’t bear to watch. Nor can he bear to leave his poor pigs, and holds them through it with his eyes slammed shut. Nicostratus also finds the sight disturbing and retreats to the fence, leaving Olyn and me to infect each pig. After three pigs, I’m sweating; after six, my breathing becomes tight and stiff. I look away from Olyn and shut my eyes for a brief moment until a wave of dizziness passes, then I snap to the next pig and the next.
I glance up at the sun. Two hours before midday. Shivers roll through me.
“You’re looking off,” Olyn grumbles.
I don’t have to mask my discomfort this time. There are too many things to be ‘off’ about. “Pegus said once the pigs get sick, they die within eight hours. We need to wait ten to see if this works. But . . .”
She lets out an expletive. “They’ll kill two if we’re not back by sundown.”
My stomach twists. “Go.”
“What if they only let one of them free?”
My throat closes. I don’t have an answer for that.
Olyn studies me, then nods sharply.
She pivots and runs before I can stop her.
The hours drag, slow and merciless. My skin itches like fire, raw and unbearable, the effort to hide it becoming agonising. I dig my nails into my palms to keep from scratching—because if I do, Nicostratus will notice. And if he notices, he’ll send me back. If I refuse, he’ll knock me out and carry me.
He’ll mean it kindly—he always does.
But kindness is not what I need.
I need someone who won’t coddle me.
Someone who won’t let me fold beneath this.
Someone who will demand I get through it, no matter what.
Someone who will fight beside me until we’ve saved them all.
I need Quin.
I smuggle myself into the shadows of the farmhouse and sag against the timber wall, letting the coarseness scratch for me—
“One pig is seriously ill,” Nicostratus says, turning the corner to me. “Others show mild symptoms but all are still alive.”
I nod weakly. “We need to keep an eye on the grave one.” I use all my strength to push off the wall and follow him at a distance. The shimmer of his shield—the second he’s spelled on me today—round my body seems to be dulling. “I need another shield.”
Nicostratus grimaces and casts his gaze away. He exhales sharply, rubbing his temple. “It’s been difficult to meditate.” His voice is quieter than usual, his jaw clenched. “The smoke—” He swallows hard. “The smell of it . . .”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to. The presence of death has thickened in the air as the hours have passed. I understand his difficulties, and yet . . . I need him to be clear-headed now. I need to stay shielded. I can’t spread this to others, and especially not to my king’s brother.
“I have enough to shield you, or to get you back to Kastoria by sundown. But not both.”
A strange laugh bursts out of me. Carrying me without a shield will infect him. But without his magic, we’ll arrive in Kastoria well past sundown. Will Olyn have convinced the people there to wait? To hold off killing an innocent?
If we leave now, I might save two lives. If we stay, we might save thousands.
But even two lives are still lives.
The decision coils tight in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs. My fingers dig into my palms, as if pain might force the right choice into me. But there is no right choice.
Every hour that passes brings us closer to proof. Proof means survival. But what if I’m wrong? What if the pigs only appear stable? What if I wait too long and return to dead bodies and no protection from the plague?
Arcane Sovereign!
My shield flickers again. I exhale sharply, my hands flying to my belt—the dromveske, the soldad, the clasp. “Shield me!”
If I fall here, Quin will have no one who will use the forbidden means that his people need. I must keep going for them. I must keep going for him.
I scramble away until there’s a good distance between us and he’s frowning at me over the pigs.
“That’s your decision?” he says. “What about the two—”
“Do it.”
He hesitates a moment, and accepts. In moments my itchy skin also tingles with his protective shield.
“If the pigs are still all alive in half an hour,” I say hoarsely, “it’s hope enough. Then, we’ll run.”
And run we do.
My limbs are heavy, aching, my lungs feel like a snake is coiled tightly around them, but the pigs were still alive. And that glimmer of light gives me the spirit to chase myself down the mountain, drag myself through a darkening forest. Nicostratus catches me when I tumble at one point, but accepts that I didn’t see that root. The sun is sinking fast, pinks and peaches stretching across the vast sky. Hurry, must hurry. Nicostratus helps me into a borrowed rowboat but when he tries to follow, I stop him. Just in case. I can’t let him get caught in the mess at Kastoria.