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)
He must have come straight here. “You’ve exhausted yourself. Get Florentius to prepare you some pearl heart.”
Quin cocks his head, his expression unreadable. “Interesting.”
His voice and the darkening intensity of his eyes bring me to my senses. I drop my hands from his face and scramble back. “Instincts.”
“You’re supposed to be distancing yourself,” I snap. “Don’t make my sacrifice for nothing.”
Quin smirks faintly. “Sacrifice? Is that what we’re calling it?”
“What would you call it?”
His expression flickers, just for a moment, before he answers. “Bad strategy.” His voice is too light, but his eyes linger on mine.
“Go,” I say.
He doesn’t move. “I’m here for my mother.”
Heat floods my face. “That . . . makes sense. I’ll go.”
Casimiria grabs my arm, her gaze snapping toward the canal. “The duke.”
“Coming personally?” My stomach churns.
“A first,” she says tightly. “Hide. It’ll be worse if he sees us together.”
Quin groans softly as I tug his arm, the pain from his leg evident. He leans on me, and we stumble toward the castle.
We won’t make it.
I glance around, heart pounding, and shove us into a wild patch of coffinweed. The tall blades fence us in, cushioning our fall. His breath is against mine. I don’t dare breathe.
Quin winces.
My fingers wrap around his wrist, seeking his pulse, but the moment I meet his gaze I forget what I’m doing. His eyes are steady, too steady, like he’s daring me to look away first. My pulse stutters traitorously, and I wonder if he can feel it.
Probably.
Damn it.
“Truth,” he says softly. “Did you miss me?”
I swallow hard, deflecting. “With your mother around? It was like having you here.”
Quin’s gaze sharpens, and his lips curl.
“You have her jawline,” I tease, desperate to break the tension. “Looks better on her.”
He rolls over me, his body pressing briefly against mine. “I dare you to say that again.”
“The curl of her lips isn’t quite so foreboding.”
Quin leans closer, voice low. “Foreboding or foreshadowing?”
“What?”
Quin’s breath grazes my nose. “If anyone’s lips are foreboding, it’s yours and what comes out of them.”
“Ah, you finally admit my wit is superior.”
“And will you finally admit you’re glad I’m here?”
I hiss, half scolding, half laughing.
“Let’s try it this way,” he murmurs, that curl deepening a dimple in his cheek. “Do you like my mother?”
I eye him with suspicion. “You’re trying to trick me.”
“It’s a simple question. Do you?”
I nod.
“A lot?”
I narrow my gaze.
“So you like her, and having her here was like having me here.” His arrogant smile is infuriating. “That means you like me a lot.”
I shove at his chest. “You’re insufferable.”
Quin catches my hands mid-shove, holding them firmly for a beat too long. His gaze flickers to mine, steady but guarded, before his voice drops to a near whisper. “Did it hurt, hearing I continued south?”
The question steals my breath. I dart my gaze away.
“It was the right move,” I manage, though my voice wavers.
Quin studies me. “I’m sorry, Cael.”
A lump rises in my throat, and I aim a few heated blows at his chest. His hand halts mine, gripping it against his breast, and I look away.
“Explain,” he murmurs.
I pull free, my voice cracking. “There’s no point. I’m trouble to you now.”
His expression stays maddeningly unreadable. “You’ve always been trouble to me.”
I look away.
“Listen,” he says, his tone resolute. “I thought acting as if you were unimportant would stop my uncle from using you. But he called my bluff. He held out on my mother’s antidote to lure me back, so that through you, he can get to me.”
“Why me, when he has your mother?”
Quin’s jaw tightens, his eyes dark. “Presumably he wants you to do something she’d rather die than do.”
My fingers tremble as they grip his cloak. “He’s threatening me. With Akilah, Lucetta—my entire family.”
“Do as he asks,” Quin says, his voice measured.
Anger flares, sharp and hot. I shove at his chest.
His gaze sharpens, but the sound of approaching footsteps halts us both. I clutch at him instinctively, half shielding myself behind him. He smirks faintly, shaking his head as if to say, You’d have no problem feeding me to the wolves.
“There you are,” Casimiria’s voice cuts through the moment, and we snap our heads toward her. She stands at the edge of the coffinweed, her gaze flicking between us. “The high duke is searching for you,” she says to me, her voice tight with urgency. “I told him you were in the kitchen and I’d send someone to fetch you, but he insisted on going himself. You need to get there first.”
A groan rises from my throat. I was really hoping not to face him today. Or any day.
Quin pushes me to my feet. “Go.”
I race to the kitchen, snatching Akilah’s bucket of well water as I pass and hauling it to the outdoor cookfire. I tip the water into the pot, stirring as though I’ve been busy for ages.