Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
According to the book, though, there are differences between a male with a Drake and a female with one. The male will always have two separate personalities—his own and that of his Drake’s. They are two separate beings, just as Xaren described to me. But a woman with a Drake, has only one personality—her own consciousness which is in control in either form she takes—either human or Drake. Also, her Drake may take years longer than a male’s to emerge.
There are pictures of female Drakes too—they are elegant creatures, long and lithe with feathered wings unlike the wings of a male Drake, which are leathery like a bat’s. They are smaller than a male Drake too and more agile. The book informs me that despite the size difference, the female Drake is actually more dangerous because of her agility and the fact that a female Drake’s fire burns twice as hot as a male’s.
I’m so interested in the book that I can barely drag my eyes away when Xaren reaches across the table we’ve been sitting at to tap my arm.
“Hmm?” I look up at him, my mind still on the female Drakes.
“Look at you—maybe I ought to call you my little bookworm instead of little dove.” He has an amused look on his dark face. “I didn’t know you were a scholar.”
“Not a scholar exactly—I just like to learn new things.” I’m a bit on the defensive. It’s considered very unladylike to admit a love of learning. Most women can barely read. But I love reading—I sat with my brother at his lessons and the tutor taught both of us. I was only allowed to do so, however, because I promised my parents I’d never tell anyone. No man wants a wife who might be smarter than him—that’s what my mother always said.
But Xaren doesn’t seem put off by my enjoyment of reading and learning, to the contrary, he’s looking at me in a new way. Like maybe he misjudged me somehow.
“You’ll have to tell me what you think of the book later,” he rumbles. “For now, it’s almost time for dinner and I want the two of us to be present at the table. My mother mustn’t think she’s won.”
“But she has,” I point out, as we rise to go. “She…she’s ordered us to…to make a baby together.” I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks heat. “And I don’t think we dare to disobey her again. At least I know I don’t.” I drop my voice to barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t put it past your mother to make me disappear if I don’t give her a grandchild soon.”
A troubled look flits across Xaren’s dark face, but he shakes his head.
“Later for that,” he says shortly. “And when I say we can’t let her think she’s won, I mean we must not let her think she’s broken our spirits.” He lifts his head defiantly and I see his golden eye flashing. “She can’t break me—I’m fucking done with that.”
I wish I could say the same, but the truth is, I’m more scared of my Mother-in-Law than I was before, and that’s saying something. There was something so unnerving about the cool, collected way she sat there watching her own son get whipped bloody. And how she refused to pay the ransom for Xaren’s return, even though the Citadel is dripping in gold and I’m sure she could have afforded it many times over.
There must be something wrong with her, I conclude. She must have a dead heart. My father always said that about Executioners—he said they must have a dead heart in their chest in order to kill people for a living—for anyone with a living, beating heart could never do the work.
That’s what I think about the Queen—she has a dead, blackened husk of a heart. And what’s more, I do believe that Dorian has inherited it. How else could he accuse an innocent maid of a theft he had committed himself and then stand by and watch her lose a hand without so much as batting an eyelash?
Yes, there’s definitely a sickness in the Royal family, I think, as I follow Xaren to get dressed for dinner. The question is, has he inherited it as well?
I don’t think so—he never would have offered to take my beating if he had. And he wouldn’t have cared about the milkmaid who was nearly raped by the stable boys. His pain has set him apart—it’s made him bitter but it’s also kept his heart from hardening and dying like his mother’s and his brother’s. I like him for that—for caring about the suffering of others.
Dinner is a silent affair. The Queen gives Xaren a surprised look when she sees him come to the table and then she watches us both with narrowed eyes as we eat and talk quietly, ignoring her scrutiny.