Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
The king’s chamber was vast, lit only by the glow of the hearth and a few tall candelabras that stood like silent sentinels throughout the room. Shadows pooled in the corners, shifting with every flicker of flame.
Adira lay on a small sleeping pallet before the hearth, her red braid spilling over her shoulder, her face pale from pain and fear. Her bandaged arm rested against her chest, fingers curled as if still bracing for the blade that had cut her.
King Dravic stood a few paces away, hands clasped behind him, watching her with a stern expression. The firelight carved strong lines across his face, sharp cheekbones, a proud jaw, and eyes of an intense, icy blue that missed nothing.
Though his voice carried the weight of command, he spoke less roughly. “You do not understand a word I say, do you, lass?”
Adira blinked back unshed tears, her gaze remaining on him, uncomprehending but attentive.
Dravic stepped closer, stopping beside the pallet, his shadow falling across her. “In a strange way, you may be precisely what I need.”
She continued to stare at him, shifting uneasily on the pallet.
He crouched beside her, not close enough to touch, but close enough to study her face, her trembling lip, the dried tear tracks on her cheek. Her wide green eyes reflected the firelight like fractured glass.
“You sense and feel what others don’t.” He tilted his head slightly.
Her breath quickened, but she didn’t look away.
“You are not like the others,” he continued, reaching out, not to touch her, but to lift a strand of her hair that had fallen loose from the braid and was caught by the glow of the flames’ light. It glowed like copper.
His gaze roamed over her face, not lustful, but intensely curious… as though she were the first puzzle that had ever troubled him.
His voice dropped. “You cannot hear nor speak.” A muscle in his jaw tightened. “I have advisors who listen too much. Spies who speak too often. Courtiers who whisper things they shouldn’t.” He let the strand of her hair slip from his fingers. “But you… you could never betray me, could you?”
He stood slowly, straightening to his full imposing height.
“You will remain here tonight,” he said, though she could not hear the words. Still, he gestured clearly, pointing to the pallet, then to himself, then to the door, closing his fist to indicate it would stay shut.
She clutched her injured arm and watched him with wide, uncertain eyes.
He stepped toward his table, filling a goblet with wine, though he didn’t drink it. He stared into the goblet instead.
“Scotara is on the brink of war and whispers of unrest circulate,” he said, thoughts churning in his head. “But where did this unrest start and who perpetuates it? Who can I trust and who should I not trust? Who wants my crown, those from across the sea or those within my own lands?”
He looked back at Adira.
Adira’s lower lip trembled, but she held his eyes.
The king’s gaze softened, barely. “You will remain under my protection until I decide your place.” He paused briefly. “And you will not be harmed.”
He gestured again, slowly and deliberately, drawing a protective circle in the air around her before pointing to himself.
She watched, puzzled, then nodded faintly, not understanding but not wanting to upset him.
That seemed to satisfy him.
He extinguished all candles, plunging the chamber into deeper shadows lit only by the fire.
Then he took a seat in a high-backed chair beside the hearth, close enough to watch her through the night, far enough not to frighten her further.
Adira curled into herself on the pallet, watching the king from beneath her lashes, uncertain, afraid… yet somehow sensing she was safe for now.
The flames cracked softly.
King Dravic whispered to himself, “You may be the only soul in this cursed kingdom whom I can trust.”
Chapter Sixteen
The King’s Castle
The Price of Visions
* * *
Elara woke wrapped in warmth. For a moment she didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, unsure if she was in a dream. A solid arm lay heavy across her waist and the steady rise and fall of breath whispered warm against the back of her neck. The soft brush of a leg tangled lightly with hers. And beneath it all, the quiet, rhythmic thud of a heartbeat pulsed against her spine.
Dar.
Memory returned in pieces, fear, the king’s cruelty, Adira’s silent cry, the forced vows, the tense words between husband and wife. Yet here, in the gray hush of dawn, none of that existed. Only his warmth… his strength… his hold around her as though she belonged there.
Her breath hitched.
She should move. She should put distance between them.
But she didn’t, not at once. Because for this brief, fragile moment, she felt safe in a way she shouldn’t. As if the night’s storms, within the keep and within herself, had worn her thin enough that comfort found its way in.