Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Ronin gazed out at the new, opulent dining room. “It’s a dangerous thing to rule with a broken line of succession. The assassins try doubly—triply—hard to wipe you out, then rush to fill the power vacuum you leave behind. They are princesses who are meant to be princesses for the rest of their existence—never queens.”
I didn’t have to cast my mind back. I knew this was the longest civil conversation I’d ever had with Ronin Belphe.
“But unlike them,” he breezed, “I am not a prince in name only. As soon as I graduate, I will take my father’s place as the king of sloth.” He winked at me. “You know, with the whole sloth thing, he never gave a shit about ruling in the first place. In fact, he asked a goddess for a womb so that he could dump all the boring and stressful shit he has to do in a day, on his heir. And when I do become king, I’ll need someone to rule by my side.
“And so I ask again,” Ronin whispered, entwining my hair around his finger. “To a princess who dreams of being queen, who is a better match than the only man in all of hell who can make her one?” Ronin pressed a light kiss on my locks before he and his finger slipped away. “There’s only one number saved in my phone, sweet Charlie,” he tossed over his shoulder as he brushed inside.
Five of the women, including Copper Beauty, dropped what they were doing in an instant and glued to his side. One had their hand down his pants and was fondling his crotch before my jaw had time to drop.
“Call me anytime.”
“Oh, I will,” the ladies all giggled and agreed, but I knew what they didn’t.
Those three words were for me.
Shaking him—and his touch—from my head, I stepped inside.
“Charlotte Hunter?”
I froze.
“Hello? I’m looking for Charlotte Hunter, have you seen her? I’m supposed to give this to her.”
Stiffly, achingly, I turned on the spot—meeting her eyes as she glided down the hall.
She waved jauntily at me, carrying a big, gleaming Abaddon Academy patch on her simple, black dress. “Hello! Can you—?”
I launched at her, crushing her to my chest. “Dora!”
Dora grunted in my hold. Dropping the bag she was carrying, she tried to wriggle away—the way she used to all the other times I smothered her in a bear hug.
“Dora, I can’t believe you’re here! I can’t believe—”
“I’m sorry, do I know you?” She craned her neck, blinking her red eyes up at me. “How do you know my name?”
“Huh? Wha—?” I laughed. “Haha, very funny. I know you’re mad at me because of... well, everything. I’m so sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop her and what she did to you, but everything’s going to be okay, Dora.” She blinked huge, owl eyes at me when I grabbed her cheeks. “I promise.”
“Uhh... okay. Thanks.” She beamed at me. “You seem super nice. Hey, can you help me? I’m looking for someone named Charlotte Hunter.”
I rolled my eyes. “Goodness, Dora, stop it. I told you, joke’s over.”
She just stared at me—smiling that wide, blinding smile.
My own dimmed. “Dora, are you kidding me right now? I’m Charlotte Hunter. You know that.”
“Oh, really? You are!” Clapping, she broke free of my hold, picked up the bag, and slipped the strap over my outstretched arms. “Then this is for you. Daddy said I had to bring it to you right away, and that it would make you very happy.” She bounced up and down studying my face. “He was right! Look, you have the biggest smile I’ve ever seen.”
My mouth was definitely as big and wide as it had ever been, but it wasn’t because I was smiling. “D-Daddy?” I rasped.
Opening the bag, I pulled out a book exactly like the one my mother wrote in on the night of the ritual. Driving the point deeper into my heart, were pages and pages of her handwriting.
“The research is coming along with my present for you— Well, half of my present for you. If you want the rest, you’ll have to earn it.”
“Dora...” I croaked, hands shaking. “Do you know who I am?”
She laughed. “Well, of course I know who you are. You’re Charlotte Hunter.”
“Dora.” My tone was hard—insistent. “Do you know that I’m your sister?”
Her forehead crumpled. “Sister? What are you talking about?” She laughed again as my heart ground to dust.
“I don’t have a sister.”
IT WAS ME AND A VERY confused Dora who sat down in the new The Great Invasion lecture hall. The room itself was similar to Professor Radu’s classroom, except in this one, there were posters all over the wall—and they were disgusting.
All of them decried the Great Invasion, and all of them said nasty, bigoted things about the mutts, leeches, and fae insert-homophobic-slur-here who led the supposed invasion. Did the fallen angels get this much hate when they actually forced their way into hell and took over, because it was ridiculous how much bile and vitriol was spewed toward people who didn’t want to be here, and certainly didn’t come here willingly.