Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Despite what I’ve been told, I’ve gotten to know the crew a little, and everyone seems fairly well-adjusted. For a bunch of thieves, anyway. Still, I have no idea what to expect from Norland or its citizens.
Toombs is by far the most jovial and easy to talk to, and he seems to have taken a shine to me, giving me candy from his seemingly bottomless pockets every chance he gets. There’s calm and collected Kirney, who appears to be Andor’s confidant; Rolph, a diminutive but spirited boy of sixteen with bright orange hair who can scale a mast in mere seconds; and a rotund sailor with a bald head who doesn’t speak much and goes by the name of Feet (his feet seem ordinary, so I’m not sure what the name is all about).
Considering I’m their hostage, I’ve been treated quite well. At least better than I had expected from House Kolbeck. At first I was kept in the cabin with my wrists bound together. Andor only untied me so that I could use the ship’s latrine and the small barrel they have onboard for bathing. At least the water was warm and fresh. But today I’ve been given the freedom of the cabin. It’s small but private. The porthole is too small to fit through (I tried, but my rear acted like a cork), and they’ve stationed guards outside my door.
Usually it’s Andor, joined by Kirney or Feet. I suppose they aren’t so worried that I’ll jump overboard again—I doubt any of them would rescue me a second time—more that I’ll try to kill one of them and force the boat back to Esland.
Honestly, it has crossed my mind. The blade that Andor used to slice through the ropes looked like it would put my ash glass to shame. If I could get my hands on that…
Now it’s too late. As the continent of Norland comes into full view beneath the towering clouds and beyond the fingers of fog, I know Lemi and I could jump off the ship and swim for it. I feel much stronger now than I did when I made my first futile (and frankly embarrassing) attempt, thanks to the simple but protein-rich meals of fish I’d been served in my cabin, and I don’t doubt I’d make it to land.
But then what? The crew may have treated me with some modicum of respect, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the Norlanders will. What if all I was taught about them is true? What if I stand out like a sore thumb here? Andor keeps remarking on my purple hair—is it possible that this is a color only found with Eslanders? From the derisive way he said Soffer, I’m going to assume that they aren’t well tolerated. Without any weapons I might not survive very long in Norland on my own.
I bristle at the idea of having to rely on someone else for protection.
“You’re looking a little green,” Andor says as he strides over to me, having come up from the lower deck.
I glance up at him, my features bending into a scowl. “I guess I’m thinking about stepping foot in Norland for the first time.”
He stares at me for a moment, those watchful golden eyes taking me in, the corner of his lips slightly curled. He always looks like he’s on the cusp of telling a joke, like he finds this whole kidnapping-and-blackmailing-me thing to be most amusing.
“You were thinking about swimming for shore,” he says, dropping down into a crouch to scratch behind Lemi’s ears, and I feel my scowl deepen. Aside from Tromson, Lemi seems to like everyone here, and it would be a lot easier if he didn’t like Andor.
Andor looks up at me. “I’d tell you it’s a bad idea except I know that would only make you do it.”
“You say that as if you know me,” I tell him, unable to keep the venom out of my voice.
He straightens up, towering over me. I thought that without his armor Andor would look less imposing, but that hasn’t been the case. Now that he’s dressed in only charcoal-colored pants, a dark brown leather vest, and a black shirt with sleeves that go to his elbows, I realize the armor didn’t add much to his muscles—he’s just as strong and defined without it.
Well, he’s had suen, I remind myself, trying not to notice how his clothes cling to him. That’s what gives him the power and strength.
Although most people I’ve met who’ve taken the substance don’t look like him.
“Oh, I would never profess to know you,” Andor says, scratching at the stubble on his jaw. “Not yet.”
“Keep it that way,” I mutter under my breath, averting my eyes from the intensity of his gaze and looking back to the horizon. The fog bank in the distance starts to split down the middle, letting rays of sunlight through, reflecting off the sea like burning mirrors.