Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My gut clenched as his gaze began to creep along the offerings, his scrutiny sharp and ruthless as a blade.
Talon’s eyes clashed with mine. Paused. Narrowed. And having his focus locked on me made my pulse rocket.
His brow dented as he took in my Sayer-eyes and otherwise very human appearance, but then his gaze sharpened in remembrance. Yes, he’d heard of my existence. He shot up a curious brow.
I swallowed. “If you’re hoping I can explain how a human can be a Sayer, your guess is as good as mine,” I told him, proud that my voice didn’t shake.
He looked to Aegeas for an answer.
The Archduke gave a stiff, clueless shrug. “We have found no way to make sense of it. As such, it likely means nothing at all.”
His mouth twisting, Talon gave me another once-over before sliding his gaze along the last few offerings. He then turned to his men and gave a tip of his chin.
At that, a nearby officiate clapped his hands once to get our attention. “Right, offerings, get moving,” he called out in a toneless voice. “The first seven will go in this wagon next to me. The rest of you will head to the one behind it.”
A breath stuttered out of me, my panic kicking up several notches. A little mindlessly, I joined the people in front of me who were shuffling toward the first wagon in single file. Some dragged their heels, ghost-white and shaking so hard it was a wonder their bones weren’t rattling. I felt for them. Felt for the crowd members I could hear weeping. Felt for people like Kemp and his mother.
It was at times like this I wondered if the Sovereigns were right; if the primordials had abandoned us on returning to the plane where souls went after death. Many humans disagreed, feeling that the gods simply didn’t keep a close watch. After all, time in their realm didn’t coincide with that of ours—a day for them could be a year to us. If so, they wouldn’t be aware of every little thing that passed here no matter how frequently they looked in on us. Surely, however, they would see the state of things and intervene if they cared to do so.
Passing the two magnificent Arions who were pulling the large, four-wheeled wagon, I skirted around the wooden contraption. Hesitating to hop onto it, I tossed one last look at the acolytes. In unison, they placed their fists against their heart.
My aunt mouthed, “Trust.”
I swallowed hard and hopped onto the wagon, hearing wood creak and groan. Dipping under the huge white cover, I stepped fully inside. The wagon had a bench either side of it. I took the one on which Kemp, Aurelia, and another human sat. The three godkin took the bench opposite us.
Two Laelaps jumped onto the back of the wagon, startling us all. An officiate then slammed a rail into place—not quite closing us in; we could easily clamber over it. But no one would attempt it while the Laelaps were there.
I gripped the edges of the bench as the wagon began to move. It did a U-turn and then picked up speed as the horses started to trot. This was it. We were officially leaving.
Silence fell, broken only by the creaking of wagon wheels and the clopping of hooves along the dirt path. Soon, we were cutting through the woods beyond the borders of the settlement. No birds tweeted, no flies buzzed, no small animals skittered around. All animal and insect life had taken refuge, probably intimidated by both the Arions and the Laelaps.
The emissaries usually came to our settlement last, so the other settlements of each dominion would have already surrendered their offerings by now. We would be the last to arrive.
Low chuckles burst out of the godkin, who were talking amongst themselves. It was no surprise that they were visibly excited. The Sovereigns rewarded any godkin who joined the Black Tapestry, somehow able to break the curse cast by the primordials who—angered at their descendants for staging a mutiny—had ensured that the subsequent generations would be born with dormant power.
I could understand their enthusiasm. There had been times—more particularly when I was a small child—that I’d wished I could access the abilities typical of a Sayer. Personally, I didn’t understand why we were even born anymore, considering we were pretty much redundant.
Thinking on that led me to recalling the conversation I’d had with my aunt before being herded to the town square …
“Don’t be afraid of what’s coming,” she’d told me. “Hellyne wouldn’t send you to Deimos unless it’s where you need to be.”
I had eyed her uncertainly. “You really think that She had a hand in this?” I highly doubted it. But due to my being the first human Sayer, all the other acolytes believed that it ‘meant something.’