Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Her mind returned to the matter at hand. Each facet of this chalice magic essentially had to do with another entity. Either she boosted their magic (you’re welcome), or she took it away entirely. And while one wasn’t all that exciting because it was making someone else that much better, the other…
She blinked rapidly, suppressing a smile. Hiding the excitement bubbling in her gut.
The other would level her playing field. It would, for the first time, make her an equal to magical people. She could step up to a fight knowing it was skill that would win the day, and skill alone. Her training…against theirs.
Could that scroll-carrying fae be believed? He knew what she was, so he had more knowledge than the blue fae that had abducted her, but he could want to use her for himself. He might lure her with promises of withering magic, only to cage her and use her against Tarian. To strengthen his king’s throne.
If there was one thing she knew already, it was that she would never, ever choose to strengthen that fucker’s anything. She’d been here a day or so and already his antics turned her stomach.
Her thoughts ground to a halt when a door opened down the way and billowing silks stepped out of the opening. The mauve dress flowed around pink-slippered feet—the first mistake—followed by an enormous shawl that looked like a parachute in a plain and yawn-worthy jet black. Mistakes two and three.
Actually, that shawl was so gods-awful that it was its own bad decision. It crawled onto the neckline with strange orange twigs and berries, or some horrible equivalent, and made way for a surprisingly intricate bodice with beads and pearls and some nicely textured patterns. But here was the kicker: the bodice was in bright orange to match the fucked-up berries.
Did a trapped human describe a circus tent before they died as fashion vengeance or something? There was no way that outfit was made from an experienced hand.
Please stop, Tarian said with a tight mental voice. You’re starting to break my court façade, and I can’t be seen laughing at such a prominent lady. Not until you best her champion.
That dress alone should break your court façade, as ridiculous as it is.
Seriously, please, you’ve got to stop.
Why are you hearing my thoughts, anyway? Is the magical shield not working?
He didn’t get to answer, because Ms. Prominent Lady and her bad fashion choices sauntered into his path like the hallway had been put there just for her. He veered to the side, making way even though he was supposedly royalty. He bent his head slightly, showing deference, and Daisy’s insides started to boil as a smug expression crossed the female’s face.
Then Daisy had to control her widening eyes.
This female’s skin was a grayish hue that looked off-putting and unnatural. Lines of black formed an almost solid mass across her forehead and around one deep blue eye. Streaks of black formed under the other eye as though she had permanently running mascara, and more lines ran around her mouth and down onto her neck. They weren’t wrinkles, those hardly having formed, and they gave the impression of sickness. The sight of them made her nauseated, and as the lady neared, an acidic wave crawled through her insides. Something about this female was badly wrong.
“My, my, look who it is…” The female’s hips swung from side to side in an exaggerated sweep. “If it isn’t the king’s mongrel come back from the human world. I wondered when you would show your face after what the princess did to you.”
“Lady Nyvarie.” Tarian offered her a shallow bow.
Avert your eyes, he told Daisy. Look at the ground and try not to be noticed.
She did as he said, making no sudden movements and pulling all her energy into her body. It was what always worked best in the human magical world. If people didn’t notice her, they didn’t pick on her.
“I have no choice but to return.” His voice was light, and she wondered if he was smiling. If so, that smile would be a death threat. “This is my home, after all. Princess Elamorna has a peculiar humor, that’s all. I came to no harm.”
The female’s laugh was pitched high and dripping with disdain. “If court jesters can have homes, hmm? Because that is the humor we all have, or didn’t you know?”
He offered another bow, and Daisy marveled at the loose and easy confidence with which he did it.
“Hmm.” Something snapped. It sounded like a paper or silk fan hitting a palm, and then mauve skirts and the wrong slippers moved and swished as the female started walking again.
Take two steps forward in a straight line, he told Daisy, and she glided, careful to only move her feet. A glimpse out the side of her eye said he was putting his body between the lady and her. One more.