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)
“They’re mine.” She bundled them up in a ball and hugged them into her chest as though they were her teddy bear.
“You don’t—”
“Leave it,” Guard Two said impatiently. He motioned her on, not bothering to secure her arm.
The first guard grabbed her upper arm and pulled her with them, walking back to the bedchamber where the outer doors had been closed. She ignored the huge four-poster bed and the golden cuffs that hung from two pegs in the headboard. Against the far wall, where there was space to swing a whip or just stand back and watch, leather covered the stone with manacles hanging at the sides. More pegs had been drilled in and a few splotches of blood hadn’t been cleaned off the floor from the last unwilling participant.
The cold from earlier was back, lodging in her stomach. Shivers ran through her length.
She had weapons and was being escorted by two dead guys. It would be fine. This would be fine. She was not in over her head here. Not yet.
Guard Two veered toward a chest. He opened it and pulled out a black, lacy garment with red ribbons. He flung it at Daisy, who dropped her bundle in “surprise,” “missed” catching the garment, and “accidentally” dropped her towel in the process.
It wasn’t hard to call up tears as she bent to pick up everything, her lip quivering and her hair lank from the bath. She looked pitiful and she knew it. Counted on it, actually. She needed a second to think. To gauge the situation.
She sniffled as she straightened with the garment, limping and shuffling to get her balance. Her feet hit the edge of her bundle as Guard Two said, “Put it on.”
She cried harder as she bent to do as instructed, creating a tent with her towel as she tried to put on the item. Her knife was right there, at her fingertips. She could grab it and launch herself forward, getting one in surprise and the second right after. Then what? If those two were needed elsewhere, their absence would be noticed. Someone would come in looking for them, and before she knew it, she’d either have a pile of bodies or be outnumbered. If the former, it wouldn’t be long before they sent enough people that a sneak attack would no longer work.
Both of those scenarios ended with her getting caught and used. Broken, maybe not of mind but of body, and no use to Tarian. She couldn’t have that.
She stepped into the garment and looked back at the contraption on the wall. The chains looped through metal rings at the top corners and ended in metal manacles with heavily worn leather around the insides. The king liked to play, first with pain, then probably with pleasure. Little hooks stuck into the stone in various places were used to keep the chains at certain lengths, and that length changed based on the captive’s various positions, so she assumed.
Would the king mess with that himself? Would he be the one altering the positioning?
She guessed not. He’d have attendants for that.
When it came time to move the captive to the gold cuffs on the bed, he’d have attendants for that, too.
She pulled the garment up her body, looking again at the guards. Were they the attendants?
She didn’t think so. They’d been far too interested in nakedness thus far. If they were used to seeing all this, they’d be bored with skin at this point. Anyone in a sex club dungeon in San Francisco could tell you that. She’d had enough dealings with information exchange to glean that much.
She looked at the manacles as memories tumbled into her mind. Snippets of conversations she’d overhead. Dots connecting. A picture emerging.
It’s no secret that simpering clown wants to kill the royalty and take their place but can’t because of the magic locking him in his station.
The king has a tighter hold on me, actually. Once outside of court, his leash loosens.
Tarian cannot help you. Not will not…cannot. You are the only one who can save him. Who can save them all.
The answer slammed into her. The reality of her situation. The reason Tarian had kept her in the dark.
You are the key. The only one who can do it.
It was she who needed to kill the king, since Tarian couldn’t. Obviously, the Fallen couldn’t either. It was up to her. She was his freedom. His salvation. She always had been. To rescue him, she had to kill his jailor. That was why he’d allowed her to be in harm’s way. He trusted her, believed in her, to get this done.
She didn’t know if it was because she was the crystal chalice or because she was the only one who would get the opportunity and who would want to, but the way forward was suddenly clear. Horribly, accurately clear.