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)
The others abandon me to flank Bastion. Behind a wall of their backs, I rise shakily to my feet and push my way to the front. “They won’t hurt me, Quin.”
His pull on the bowstring tightens, his gaze rooted on Bastion. I slip in front of him and claim Quin’s full attention. His gaze hits mine and holds, fingers on the string unrelenting. “We need their help.”
I keep staring at him, chin high, asking him to listen. His chest puffs out and he reluctantly lowers his arrow. “Inside.”
A low chuckle hits the back of my neck. Bastion tugs me forwards, ordering his men to remain outside.
The rooms are dimly lit, the air thick with the musty scent of aged parchment. Heavy wooden furniture looms in the shadows; tapestries adorned with the kingdom’s wyverns drape the walls. Shelves bow, laden with spine-cracked books. Only the magistrates are missing—their robed figures discussing laws, with the head magistrate presiding over it all.
It’s a place meant for protection of the people and the pursuit of justice, but—
“They fled.”
I whisk around; Bastion’s arm clenches tightly, keeping me close. Quin has ditched his bow and arrow and is keeping his expression stoic as he snaps his way swiftly into the room. He makes straight for the head magistrate’s highbacked chair and formidable desk.
With a huff, Bastion drags me to the lower stools. He remains standing, crossing his arms in defiance of the king.
The two men stare hard at one another, neither willing to look away first. Bastion smiles slyly and caresses the top of my head. Quin’s eyes flash, his hand curling into a fist on the desk, just enough to make the inkpot rattle.
Bastion’s smile grows sharper.
I duck out of another caress. “Enough. We’ve more pressing issues.”
They turn their heads to me.
I speak quickly, and even though we’re the only ones in the offices, I keep my voice quiet. When I’m done, I meet Quin’s sober expression. “You came for assistance to find and remove the source of the outbreak. There’s no help here. We have to work with Bastion.” I glance at the vespertine. “You came to me to heal your men. There are no herbs. You have to work with us.”
Bastion scoffs. “Why don’t I bargain with the redcloaks? Our runaway king for all their herbs?”
I bolt to my feet. “You can’t.”
“He’s done nothing worthy in his life so far. He can make up for it by sacrificing himself for the health of the townspeople.”
Quin’s gaze is penetrating, but he’s not speaking against this.
A panicky jolt riddles through me. “There’s a bigger picture. More need him alive than he can possibly save here.”
“You’d let all these townspeople die for one man?”
I think of that boy racing through the barrier, the sudden swell of pain in the air, the red dripping down the seal.
I swallow hard. “I won’t let them die either.”
“Big promises.” Bastion looms closer, the smell of leather and steel sharp on his skin. “I like our chances better if we give him up—”
“What makes you think the redcloaks will make that trade?” Quin murmurs. “We’re trapped in here. They have the upper hand. They can get their hands on me and leave you all to die.”
I step forward and shove Bastion’s chest. “If he is taken, if he is in any way harmed . . . I will never help your men.”
Bastion stares down at me for three long beats before he laughs, the sound a loud echo through the dim room. He casts narrowed eyes at the king. “How in all the kingdom have you inspired such loyalty?”
Quin ignores this, saying tightly, “I imagine you have ways to get in and out of the town?”
Bastion answers with a gritted jaw. “Most of our routes are blocked by the miasma. There is one way, but it’s indiscreet. Only my men are practiced at exiting undetected.”
I speak, “We’re not looking to evacuate the townspeople. We’re looking to send a few men for lifesaving supplies. Will yours do it?”
“Will you treat my people first?”
I meet his eye. “No.” His face contorts and he looms forward. I hold him back with a palm against his chest. “I’ll deliver healing in order of need.”
Bastion pushes himself forward until we’re nose to nose, and Quin casts a quill pen between us, forcing a gap. Bastion’s gaze stays on me, until he laughs drily. “I’m beginning to like you.” He turns to Quin’s displeased expression and flashes a toothy smile. “I’ll send my men out for the necessary herbs. As for the source of the outbreak . . . Healer and I will trace it.” He waggles his brows at me.
Quin pierces Bastion with a volatile gaze. “Send only three for the herbs. The rest are needed here to gather foodstores for supervision and rationing. I’ll see to it the people are cautioned not to consume contaminated water.”