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)
Twitch, twitch. “Now you insult me. As if I would ever purposely harm the innocent. I meant the women trust Ember. Now we must pair them with someone they’ve never met and start the process all over. Wasted time, wasted effort.”
I cringed. “My apologies. Is there anything I can do?”
“Yes. Listen when Domino speaks.”
Ouch. “Okay, I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you really know how to cut a girl to the—” A strong suction yanked me back into my own body.
Domino still inhabited me—I felt him. We stood rooted, panting, two swords clutched tight in our blood-soaked grip. Feeders were piled around us. His emotions intertwined with mine, until I could no longer tell them apart. Resolve: We’d done what was necessary. Relief: Cyrus and the trainees survived. Trepidation: What came next? There was a marked absence of satisfaction.
Blood splattered every inch of Cyrus, including his thunderous expression. “We live to fight another day.”
Yes, but how was this bonding thing supposed to work? Would Domino remain a presence inside me forever? Would I drift from my body to his, over and over?
“You were amazing, Arden,” Winslet praised between heaving breaths. The trainees were injured—the lord more than the lady—but they remained on their feet. “How did you do that?”
What had she seen? “Which part?” I asked, playing innocent as I wiped my blades on my pants and sheathed the weapons.
“Move so swiftly. Work those weapons so flawlessly.” Awe coated every word.
“I’ve given her special training,” Cyrus snapped, his patience hanging by a fraying thread. A true if misleading statement. “Let’s go before another horde arrives. Line up.”
We obeyed and once again started forward, soon running, our boots splashing in pools of scarlet.
The base came into view, stunning in its entirety. Glass hallways connected a series of differently shaped buildings. Some had a domed ceiling, others a flat roof, while a few featured a twisted steeple. Most sections sprawled, but one stretched toward the sky. If walls weren’t studded with crystal, they were dotted with windows. Fences formed a barricade around the perimeter.
Cyrus reached back and placed a pair of goggles in my hand. I trembled as I settled the thin metal around my brow and the lens over my eyes. Instant gloom, the precious light gone as if it had never been. I hated it.
I didn’t see Domino exit me, but I suddenly noticed his absence. There one moment, gone the next. It wasn’t relief that I felt but bereavement. With him, I’d tasted unfettered strength and unbreakable connection. Now, without him, I struggled to remain upright as I followed Cyrus.
The high prince must have sensed my mounting fatigue. He slowed our stride, allowing me to limp along. But I didn’t topple, so, win. When we reached the first gate, a buzzer rang. Dead bolts unlatched, and an opening allowed us through. The pounding, racing footsteps of soldiers reached my ears.
“High Prince Mallow is dead.” Mr. Vyle’s voice came next. He’d ventured outdoors to collect us personally, which meant he’d known of our approach. “Ember Cruz is responsible.”
“I know. I saw it happen,” Cyrus informed him without revealing a hint of his emotions.
We entered the building, leaving behind the stench of rot in favor of sterile nothingness. From sweaty hot to quaking with cold.
I ripped off the goggles and blinked to clear my vision. Soldiers encircled us. Medics pushed through them to shove various pieces of equipment at us, taking our vitals. Cyrus didn’t protest, so I didn’t either.
“Lady Roosa, Baron Wildwood will escort you to Dr. Korey.” Mr. Vyle motioned to the soldier in question.
“Arden is staying with me.” Cyrus’s firm tone allowed no argument. “We won’t be visiting Dr. Korey.”
The executioner darted his gaze to me, pursed his lips, and gave a stiff nod.
Not a single word of rebuttal? No threats? Cyrus had more power than I’d realized.
Perhaps Vyle knew of Astan’s interest in the high prince. An awful, sobering thought.
Cyrus took my hand, linking our fingers, and led me into an enclosed decontamination stall.
Though it was just the two of us, I didn’t doubt cameras recorded every nuance. We didn’t speak as we toed off our shoes and stripped out of our weapons and battle clothes, removing everything but our jewelry. He wore a necklace of his own, five rings, and three bracelets. I was certain each performed a unique duty.
A special enzyme mist sprayed from various spouts, cleaning us. Dried blood and grime evaporated, and Cyrus’s ambrosial scent turned the small space into the sweetest dream. At first, I stared down at the floor, exhausted, but temptation drew my gaze up, up. His legs were tattooed with thick, dark slashes representative of a tree trunk, while leaves and branches stretched over his torso and arms. From those branches dangled flowers and fruits.
He was a garden of delights.