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)
She giggles, and I give her the last instructions to finish the potion. “Go,” I murmur. “Spoon feed him some.”
Sonya carefully administers the potion and then holds her breath as he stirs and groggily opens his eyes.
The moment he does, Sonya bursts into tears again and throws her smaller arms around him. But she’s choking on her tears too much to speak clearly.
Makarios pats her back, a soft smile tipping his lips. “You rendered my body limp, but I heard everything. I love you, too.”
Over her shoulder, he lifts his gaze to mine. “Sonya learned a lesson today. But have you learned yours?”
I cackle and sneak backwards towards the door. I turn quickly to launch myself outside—
And smack right into Him. Him with his tightly folded arms and an arched eyebrow pointed at me. Him who chased after me still wearing his crown, with a pudding stain on his velvet robes . . .
MATCHMAKING MAYHEM
No ‘fun’ for a whole month. As punishment. I still can’t get over it. And I’m three weeks in.
I groan into the crook of my arm during a Veronica-Akilah-and-Me teatime. “I think the king lives to torture me.”
Akilah snorts. “Yes, that’s the only reason he exists.”
“And the only reason you exist, dear Caelus,” Veronica laughs alongside her, “is to annoy him. It’s what we call a perfect match.”
“The punishment doesn’t even fit the crime!” I exclaim. “I should be forced to eat pudding a whole month. Or to muck out the pony stall. But this . . .”
Veronica and Akilah both arch a high brow.
“You’ll learn better if it’s something you truly miss,” Akilah says, pouring Veronica more tea.
Veronica sips it and leans in, “Speaking of perfect matches and fun. How about we have some of our own?”
I listen to her idea and instantly I’m on the edge of my seat. “I love playing judge.”
Akilah is also all in, and by the time the end of the week arrives, I’ve nearly forgotten I’m being punished. Nearly.
Queen Veronica’s quarters have been completely transformed—there’s velvet drapery, harp music playing softly in the background, and a slightly raised dais where each potential suitor will perform, speak, or, in Akilah’s words, “enthral us until we’re giddy.”
“Unless there’s a skirt, I won’t be giddy,” Veronica murmurs.
“Neither will I.” They both look at me. “I won’t be giddy at a skirt, either! I’m taken, stolen, and even suffering his punishment I’m still a glutton for him.”
“Fine,” Akilah amends. “Enthral us until I’m giddy.”
“Poor Florentius.”
Akilah smacks me, a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I didn’t say I’d snatch any of these suitors. Just . . . appreciate. Let’s rate on charm, compatibility, practical skills, and ‘spark’.”
Veronica frowns. “We’ll only see the spark if—”
“Ahead of you,” I murmur. “Oh look, here he comes on the wind.”
Nicostratus soars over the dais and lands before us, all reluctant grace and stiff shoulders, like a man forced to be here. And, maybe, that’s sort of the case.
I flash him a cheesy smile.
“I feel ridiculous,” he mutters as he bats his heavy cloak.
“You look radiant,” I counter, waving him toward the seat of honour in front of the dais. “The embodiment of a brooding prince with a tragic backstory. Half of them will propose at first sight.”
Veronica hums approvingly. “Scowl a little more. We need the right amount of brood.”
Nicostratus sits, arms crossed, scowling. “I’m only doing this because someone poisoned me not to . . . function and will only give me the antidote afterwards.”
Akilah claps. “Excellent thinking, Cael.”
“That antidote better work.”
“If it doesn’t, I have something I accidentally used on your brother, and that really worked.”
Nicostratus covers his ears. “Spare me.”
An aklo bows from the side of the room, and so it begins.
The first suitor is a golden-haired official’s son who recites an original poem about stars and devotion being as deep as the kingdom’s canals.
Akilah scribbles something on her parchment.
I glance over:
Does he know the canals are not that deep?
And write back:
Are unibrows a thing?
Veronica taps her chin. “A little too wheezy. He sounded like he might faint at commitment.”
Nicostratus doesn’t blink. “Next.”
The second demonstrates swordplay. He’s not bad, but mostly his spins are for flair. Then he kneels and tries to hand Nicostratus a rose.
Nicostratus stares at the rose like it might attack him. “I’m allergic.”
“You’re not allergic to flowers.”
He glares at me. “I’m allergic to him.”
Akilah waves him off and warns the following suitors. “No roses.”
A luminist apprentice with sweet eyes and a passion for the law, a nobleman who plays the lute and sings (badly), a quiet scholar who blushes and drops his notes halfway through his speech.
Each one earns a polite dismissal from Nicostratus, who taps his foot faster with each passing minute.
Then. A breeze kicks up.
“Oh no,” I say, already feeling a shiver scuttle down my spine.
“Is that—?” Veronica begins.
“Gosh,” Akilah mutters.