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)
“In a way. While I can leave your side physically, our lives are tied. We’ll never not be aware of each other. Or affected by the other’s actions. If you die, I die, and vice versa.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened. Closed. Strode into the living room. The boys trailed me. I stopped at the coffee table. Relocated to the velvet-covered settee before the unlit hearth. Then the couch. None of the switches assisted the processing of what I’d just heard.
A growl rumbled from Cyrus. “What did he say?”
I couldn’t tell him. Not until I understood the mechanics of it all. “I need more information first.” Sinking on the edge of the couch, I gazed at the librarian and demanded, “Start talking. Explain how this is possible.”
The librarian anchored his arms behind his back, adopting a prebattle stance. “Ask Cyrus about the seed he gave you. The one that grew the piece of the Rock you ate.”
I gulped and swung my gaze to the high prince. “Tell me about the seed you gave me when I awoke from Shiloh’s attack.”
Cyrus pursed his lips. “I removed it from a berry I’d found weeks before CURED sent me to retrieve the one I ate. It’s the same kind of seed CURED now protects.”
Jolt. “My seed matured into the Rock. Are you saying the berries growing in a Theirland field will also mature into the Rock?”
“Yes.”
“That is the third requirement for the rise of the gods,” Domino stated. “The Rock will reach full maturity in Theirland. It is at that time the chosen man will agree to serve as Astan’s host.”
My mind whirled at the implications, and I covered my mouth with trembling hands. The final two conditions were being fulfilled in tandem. How long did I have to pluck Cyrus from the god’s claws?
“Why would CURED protect a section of the Rock?” It made no sense. They despised the Rock and sought only to destroy and discredit it. Him.
“There’s a point in the growth that allows us to craft a deeper bond with Tsuri,” Domino explained. “We become a doorway into the library.”
The same way Domino had become a librarian.
Cyrus paled as I relayed the information, and I probably reacted similarly. If someone infected with Madness became a door to the library, the entire CURED army could march in, burn books, attack residents, and invade the utopia beyond it, bringing the infection with them. The perfect revenge.
“Let’s backtrack a sec,” I told Domino. Inhale, exhale. “I ate a fragment of the Rock to become Soalian, but I wasn’t”—I waved an arm between us in lieu of speaking the word bonded—“to anyone else.”
“You were.” His unease flowed into me. I felt it. “The first time, you were planted in Tsuri, who is planted in Soal, who is bound to all who partake. This develops stronger, longer roots in him . . . and in me. When I cloaked you, our roots twined.”
Dang. That made all kinds of crazy sense. It was the equivalent of grafting plants. “This isn’t ideal.” The understatement of the century.
“Believe me, I’m aware.” Both his expression and his stance softened the slightest bit. “I’ve seen a snapshot of my future, and you are included in it. I wanted, want, to get there.”
That, I understood as well. Look at everything I’d done to prevent a certain future. “Tell me what you saw.”
“No.”
Before I could press, Cyrus spoke up. “You two hammer out the details of whatever this is and let me know where you end up.” He pivoted on his heel and stalked toward the kitchen. “I’ll make dinner.”
I almost ran after him. I longed to. But I remained in the living room, attempting to ground myself in my environment. Pritis stones dangled from a glass ceiling, the lights appearing to fall from the night sky. Polished walls displayed paintings of past gentry and their families. Crystals covered every corner, the uneven edges flecked with gold. Stunning, luxurious, and familiar, but not at all comforting.
“He may not forgive me for this,” I whispered, my voice as ragged as my emotions. “Consuming the Rock was supposed to set me on a different path, not barreling toward the one I read about.”
“It did both. Before, staying away from Cyrus was temporary.”
And now it was permanent? No. Surely not. He must be wrong. “What you’re implying . . . You’re wrong. Very wrong.”
“Rarely. And not about this.”
“Victors predicted my marriage to Cyrus.” I would never agree to wed someone hosting Astan.
“Are you certain?” Domino slanted his head. “What did he say, exactly?”
I clung to the memory as if it were a lifeline. “He said, and I quote, ‘Who wouldn’t want to speak with the much-desired wife of the high prince? Though I suppose you are merely his future much-desired wife at this point.’ End quote.”