Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 247882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1239(@200wpm)___ 992(@250wpm)___ 826(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 247882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1239(@200wpm)___ 992(@250wpm)___ 826(@300wpm)
The people of Massene would be moving about at this time, meeting at one of the two shops that sat just beyond the interior wall of the manor, getting baked pastries and roasted coffee before leaving to work their crops. I didn’t want to disturb what little time they had to talk to one another, repairing their broken community. The people here were only slowly adjusting to our presence—the Atlantian Crests on banners draped in the halls I now walked past and hanging over the Rise. They were still nervous around the Atlantian soldiers and often stared at the wolven, caught between terror and curiosity. And when Reaver took flight…
Chaos ensued.
At least the screams and the running for their lives had abated. But when they caught sight of me, they froze before hastily bowing or lowering themselves to their knees, wide-eyed and filled with the same conflicting emotions they felt when the wolven drew closer.
I had a feeling that Wren had keyed the people of Massene into my whole godhood thing since there was no way anyone from Oak Ambler could’ve communicated what had been whispered to the people there. While I wasn’t upset with him for doing so, I sort of wished he hadn’t.
How they stared made things a bit awkward.
The way they hastily bowed as if expecting grave punishment for failing to do so immediately made me sad.
Traveling the empty, winding halls of the main floor, I bypassed the banquet hall where the murmur of either soldiers or wolven drifted out. I continued, passing the lone receiving chamber and moving to the closed doors on the east side of the manor—which appeared to be the oldest part.
Cracking them open, I entered the cold, cavernous chamber. The musty scent of old books and dust greeted me. There was so much dust that neither Kieran nor Vonetta could be in the chamber for long without experiencing a sneezing fit. I stopped, turning on the gas lamp that sat on a tea table beside a worn settee the shade of rich chocolate.
Cauldra Manor was as old as Massene was, likely built when the city was a district of Pompay—much like the still-existing neighborhoods in Carsodonia. I had a feeling that many of the tomes on the shelves here were just as old.
Mainly because three or four had basically fallen apart when I opened them.
It was, admittedly, a creepy chamber with its heavy tapestries blocking any natural sources of light, the faded portraits of who I assumed were either Ascended of the past or perhaps mortals who’d once called Cauldra home, and the array of half-melted candles of various shapes and colors.
But I began to think that what truly kept the wolven and Atlantians away was the feeling in here. The distinct sensation of not being alone, even when you were.
I felt it now as I drifted among the rows of tomes and their dusty spines—the press of invisible fingers across the nape of my neck. I suppressed a shiver, withdrawing another ancient book from the shelf as I quickly glanced around the empty chamber. The feeling remained, but I ignored it as I took the book to the settee and sat.
However, I would take the possibility of being stalked by spirits over lying in bed with only my wandering thoughts—worrying about him, and Tawny, whether or not I would need to feed, and if we could truly win this war without leaving the realm worse than what it was.
I carefully cracked open the tome. No Atlantians were listed as far as I could tell, though much of the ink had faded. Still, what I could read of the paragraphs narrating the lives of those who’d lived here ages ago was fascinating. The births and deaths had been noted in two columns, grouped together by surname. Mixed in with announcements of marriages were paltry arguments over property lines, accusations of livestock thievery, and much more heinous crimes like assault and murder. Executions were recorded. The manner of death was almost always brutal, and they were held publicly in what had once been a town square.
A part of me realized that what had drawn me to look through these records, long forgotten along the lower shelves of the library, was that they reminded me of when I was in New Haven. When everything I had been learning had been so very confusing to me. But…but he had been there, vibrant and teasing as I discovered the different Atlantian bloodlines.
Chest squeezing, I flipped through stiff, yellowed pages chronicling a realm that’d existed long before the Ascended. Long before—
My eyes narrowed on the words before me. What the…? Lifting the book from my lap, I inhaled way too much dust as I read the passage again and then one more time.
Princess Kayleigh, first daughter of King Saegar and Queen Geneva of Irelone, joined Queen Ezmeria of Lasania and her Consort, Marisol, to celebrate the Rite and Ascension of the Chosen, marking the…