Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Screams come from all around me—harried movements—pushing and shoving and running . . . run where? To try their luck at another gate? To secure all the food they can? To find their families?
Wherever they go, nobody comes to weep for the lad.
Nauseated, I drag myself away. The blood is still fresh, still slicking down the barrier. No one cries for him. I don’t have time to either.
Quin. Need to find Quin.
If we stop people taking water from the brook and remove the source of the outbreak, we can contain this. In ten days, the seals will be unlocked.
What about medicinal herbs? What about those who’ll die in a day if I don’t get those supplies?
Movement keeps catching my eye from shadows; it comes with a prickly feeling at my nape, like someone’s watching me. I catch another glimpse when I turn a corner. A red dress. A womanly figure.
I don’t have the energy for her feud. I cut through an abandoned clothing store, exchanging my cloak for a blue one, a colour she won’t expect, won’t pay any attention. I slip out again and turn back into the main street, fixing my clasp at the neck of the new cloak.
The magistrate’s office is the most imposing structure in any town, and though this one is smaller than those in larger settlements, it is no less austere. A fortress-like complex with high walls and a heavy gate guards a two-story stone building within. Narrow windows dot the façade, and from the upper floor, a speaker’s ledge juts out—the place where the head magistrate would address his men, who might stand in neat rows below in the courtyard.
The mightiness of the building should be a place residents can feel protected, but at the moment they most need a calming, controlled voice on that ledge, there’s no one. The gates are open, guards who should be manning them are gone, and the courtyard is empty.
A lone horse grazes a stretch of grass near the colonnaded staircase.
“Quin—”
I’m grabbed by the arms from behind. I gasp in fright, and hands tighten on me. A gruff voice hits my ear. “Got you.”
It’s a familiar voice. I yank my head around and catch sight of a grim smile and a freckle under a narrowed eye. Other figures slink into the courtyard to surround me. Pinched faces, hands ready to wield their whips. Like the last time, they’re wearing cloaks that clasp at their right shoulders, metal that blinds in the sunlight, engraved with a vespertine insignia.
“What do you want?” I choke out, wincing as he yanks me around for his men to see. Like I’m a prize he promised them.
“This is only half of us. Want to know where the other half are? Lying on wagons in the main street, sick like my sister.”
My heart is ramming fast and my throat is dry. “I’d help but—”
“You have the gall to negotiate with me a second time?”
I shake my head. He lets me go with a push that lands me hard on my knees. I raise my head to meet his blackened gaze. If I tell them I’m currently unable to cure anyone, how will they react? I need to be careful.
“You care deeply about your men.”
“What kind of leader would I be if I didn’t?” He pauses. “Ah, perhaps then I’d be like the king.”
I grit my teeth and ignore his blatant taunting, meant to strike a nerve. “Your principles are to stand up for the less fortunate, the weak and powerless.”
“What’s your point?”
“You must be aggrieved how the townspeople here are being treated.”
Bastion’s jaw twitches.
He lifts a booted foot, and like the first time we met face to face, presses it against my shoulder. His lips curl, voice rumbly, creamy on the surface with a warning underneath. He laughs suddenly, tipping his head skyward. “You’re flattering me?”
“Help me save the people here. And your men.”
“You’re the healer. You save. I avenge.”
“No.”
His eyes narrow sharply. “You don’t hesitate to speak your mind.”
“You wonder if I’m frightened or not. I am.” I shove his foot off me and he lets me. “But there’s no time to dwell on those feelings. People are sick. Dying—”
Whizzing sounds overhead. I blink upwards, toward the blur of an arrow. Before anyone can move, it has pieced the clasp on Bastion’s cloak, breaking it open. Dark fabric flies through the air and smacks into the wall, pinned by the arrowhead.
“The next one kills.”
The vespertines and I turn towards Quin’s voice as it booms through the courtyard. He leans against the balustrade on the speaker’s ledge, bow in hand, arrow nocked and ready, midday sunshine bright on his silver hair and the deadly glint in his eye.
Hollow laughter comes from Bastion and he saunters stubbornly forward. “He saved you last time, you’re saving him now. The healer and the useless king. I sense a story here.”