Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Heart drumming, I eased from Cyrus’s embrace and stood. I’d have to get to the Rock without Domino’s help. If I got caught, I got caught. The payout exceeded the risk.
I shifted to peer down at his sleeping form, pleasure and heartbreak colliding inside me. If he accepted Astan a second time, he would set off a chain reaction of events leading to our war. I sensed it.
But I wasn’t going there. Not now. Better to be mission minded.
Determined, I carefully eased a specific ring from his finger. The one with the skeleton key. I also confiscated some of his other jewelry, checking them out before I donned them. Another ring, filled with a fine, white powder. Probably a sedative, maybe a toxin. An array of metal wristbands that opened and locked into daggers when shaken.
Deep breath in. Out. With a final glance at the man who had changed the trajectory of my life, teaching me to see past fear and fight for what I wanted, I tiptoed to the door. Now it was my turn to help him. And I would. Determination turned my bones to steel. I wouldn’t fail.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I will do what I say, and nothing and no one can stop me.
—The Book of Soal 1.24.1.12
There was only one way to reach my destination alive: with unflinching confidence. No hesitation. No backing down. Anything else would set off alarms.
Head high, I opened the suite door and marched into the hall as if I had somewhere important to be, because I’d been summoned by someone important. Honestly, I had. In Soal’s welcome letter to me, he’d instructed me to read my books. So. A summons. By a god.
The guards were gone, replaced by the meta. 999 again. It walked at my side, its steps smooth and light despite its significant weight.
“Lead me to the temple,” I demanded. The Rock was on the way.
The creature accelerated, pulling ahead.
“I’m gonna call you Nine,” I muttered.
It provided zero feedback, robot-dog speak for don’t care.
As we traveled the corridors, I removed my weapon of choice. Two bracelets I would shake into daggers at the right moment. If I could shred the meta’s circuits, it couldn’t follow me into the rift room.
My heart thundered harder with every hallway closer. I hoped Domino’s fog would sweep toward us, confusing my metal companion. Alas.
I held my breath as we rounded the final corner. Two armed guards waited at every door. Eight in total. Very well. I cobbled together a plan. Rip out Nine’s wires, blow powder at everyone else.
Someone exited the temple beyond the hallway and strode in our direction. My spirit sank. Mr. Vyle. He wore a pristine, tailored suit and whistled under his breath, nothing like his blood-splattered future version.
My skin flushed hot with fury at the reminder. This man, this executioner, had sat, utterly unmoved, as Domino swung from the rafters toes up, bleeding to death.
Mr. Vyle’s gaze lit on me, and his gait slowed. Clearly he intended to have a conversation. I performed a quick calculation. If I proceeded full steam ahead, all of CURED would learn of my allegiance to Soal. Cyrus already knew, which meant Astan must know, though so far he’d chosen not to reveal it. Which didn’t seem like the god’s MO. Maybe he couldn’t tell? But also, maybe he could. Either way, if I did this, I would be labeled a worldswide traitor, and rightfully so. I’d be hunted. If I managed to survive the ensuing battle with the executioner, of course. And there would be a battle.
If I didn’t fight to reach Soal, Cyrus would wake up before I read my book and received instruction. Astan would seek a bond before I had a chance to help him. All could be lost.
Very well. So be it. Today, I stopped hiding. For Cyrus, I would do anything, even this.
Nine slowed and moved to the side, offering me a straight shot to Mr. Vyle.
“Hello, Lady Roosa.” The executioner adjusted his wrist cuff. “Might I inquire why you’re visiting the temple without Emperor Cyrus?”
Well, well. Mr. Vyle already considered Cyrus his leader.
“You may do so, yes.” Forget starting my opening strike with Nine. Mr. Vyle was the bigger threat. For all I knew, Cyrus had commanded the dog not to harm me for any reason. “I politely decline to answer.”
A flash of surprise crossed Mr. Vyle’s face. My cue. As Cyrus taught me, if battle is inevitable, strike first, strike hard, and strike fast. Up first, taking out as many opponents as possible.
I launched into action, sweeping the jewel of a ring aside and spinning, blowing powder in every direction. Multiple guards collapsed. Mr. Vyle stumbled several steps, but he didn’t fall.
With a flick of my wrists, the bracelets clicked into blades. I lunged and slashed. Contact. The tip sliced through the midsection of a guard, Mr. Vyle, then another guard. The soldiers crumbled, clutching gushing wounds, but again Mr. Vyle remained on his feet. His wound bled for a moment, but the flow ceased within seconds.