Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 161535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 808(@200wpm)___ 646(@250wpm)___ 538(@300wpm)
“Can I point out again that you kidnapped me? And you’re holding Kalos hostage somewhere nearby?”
“He’s not a hostage. He can leave at any time.”
“But he won’t,” I point out.
“No, he won’t.” She shakes her head.
We both know he won’t, because I’m not there, and because he’s Apathy. He’s going to linger, possibly in the same room for days or weeks on end, and it’s not his fault because he doesn’t have me to goad him into action. If I’m going to get free, I’m going to have to do it myself. And to do that, I probably need to get Margo on my side. I eye her speculatively, noting again that her experience in this world so far has been very different than mine. She’s glittering in jewels and silks. She has servants to drag her painting supplies everywhere. Hell, she has a freaking castle.
I have a threadbare blanket and a piss bucket. “If you want us to join you guys, can I point out something?” I gesture at my surroundings. “This isn’t inspiring confidence in me. I’m being treated like a prisoner.”
Margo grimaces, and the calm assurance she’s worn the entire time slips a little, her expression flickering with frustration. “I know, and I’m truly sorry about that. Seth and I argued, and he won the rock-paper-scissors battle. I wanted you upstairs in a nice room. Catch flies with honey, you know? But he’s not convinced you wouldn’t run at the first opportunity.”
Well, he’s not wrong. I don’t point that out. “Can I have a thicker blanket at least?”
“Oh my god, absolutely.” She gets to her feet and bangs on the door until one of the guards opens it. “I want clothes and some heavy blankets for my friend here. And real food and water, not the prisoner shit.” She pauses and adds, “And a pillow.”
The guard pauses, his gaze sliding to me and back to Margo. “My lady, Lord Seth said—”
“You let me handle Seth,” Margo says imperiously. “If anyone asks, you’re doing my bidding.”
He looks uneasy but nods and leaves.
Margo sits down again, beaming, and my skin prickles with warning. Is this them playing “good cop” and “bad cop” and they’re trying to get information out of me? Or just get me on their side so I can convince Kalos? Because I’m not buying Margo’s sudden altruism. I’m terrible at mind games but maybe I need to try one of my own. “Thank you,” I say, deciding to butter her up. “The clothes and the pillow—and everything else—will be appreciated.”
“Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was this bad down here.” She smiles gently again.
“Your necklace is pretty,” I offer as we stare at each other awkwardly. I drop my gaze to the glittering masterpiece adorning her neck. “I can’t stop looking at it.”
Her expression changes to one of pure delight and she fingers the crystals again. “Gosh, isn’t it just the most beautiful thing? These are all from the Citadel. It was a crystalline palace in the sky and when it fell, people swooped in and stole the crystals and sold them on the black market. Well, except for Omos. That’s a friend of mine—he’s a monk living close to the outskirts of the lands where the Citadel used to be. People trade them to Omos, and he gave them all to me. I had them made into a necklace.” She leans forward conspiratorially. “Seth absolutely hates it.”
“The crystals?”
She nods, grinning with real pleasure.
“And you paint things that bother him,” I point out. “Are you guys not getting along?”
“Oh no, we get along well enough.” She fingers the crystals, her gaze dreamy. “As for doing things that Seth doesn’t like? There’s an art to it. He bosses around everyone and tries to rule, and it gives him a big head. I like to show him in small ways that he can boss around everyone but me. That I see through him.”
Her tone is fond. Really, really fond. It makes me wonder about them. “Are you guys…together?”
Margo stiffens, her hand dropping from her necklace. She puts on another bright smile and picks up her paintbrush again. “We are Anchor and god, just like you and Kalos. And speaking of the two of you, have you met the Fates yet?”
Fates as in plural? “I met Lachesis in a coffee shop back home.”
“You did? Interesting.” Margo taps the stick-end of her paintbrush against her lips. She looks surprised by my admission, the uncertain expression flicking over her face again.
Shit. I hope I didn’t give away information that was supposed to be secret. I’m so bad at this. “Who were you referring to?”
Margo eyes me and dabbles her paint brush on her palette again. “The Fates here, of course. They’re the ones running the show. Here, they’re called the Spidae, and they control the web of fate.” She says web of fate in a lofty tone. “I haven’t met them yet, of course, but everyone else we’ve run into has, which tells me that they’re pulling quite a few strings…pun intended.”