Total pages in book: 161
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 153795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 769(@200wpm)___ 615(@250wpm)___ 513(@300wpm)
“You have terrible form.” Thane’s sword is resting on the grass, and he kicks it up with the tip of his boot. His back is to me, so he doesn’t notice me coming. Behind Algar is a wooden post several feet taller than both of them. It connects a clothing line to another post on the opposite end of the lawn.
Without warning, Thane swings his blade above Algar’s head and cuts through the post. Algar ducks so low he ends up falling on his butt. The post tilts sideways before slamming to the ground. It’s a relief there aren’t any clothes or sheets hanging on the line.
“A heads-up would’ve been nice!” Algar shouts. “You could’ve chopped off my damn head.”
Thane inspects his sword. “Perhaps that was the goal.”
Hovering nearby, Zephra blows a small spout of fire at Thane. As if he expects it, he throws up a hand and creates an invisible shield to deflect it.
“Nice try, Zephra.” Thane eyes her as she chitters like she always does when she’s upset. It’s almost like she’s ranting.
I laugh. One thing’s for sure: no matter how much you coddle or feed Zephra, she will never be okay with you harming Algar.
“You training or what?” Rynthea’s voice surprises me as she hoofs past with her scythesword.
That’s when Thane becomes aware of my presence. He turns a fraction, looking at me from head to toe. I try not to make a fool of myself as I follow Rynthea.
“Have a good rest, sleeping princess?” Algar asks, standing again.
“It was okay,” I answer, avoiding Thane’s eyes.
“The darkling didn’t snore too loudly, did he?” Algar nudges Thane in the ribs.
“No. He was actually really quiet. Slept like a baby, which was a bit strange, considering how destructive he is.”
Algar snickers.
“Have any of you seen or heard from Enver?” I inquire.
“Nope.” Rynthea sways her blade to create infinity loops. “No sign of him yet.”
I shift uneasily. “You think we should find another way to the island?”
“If we don’t hear from him within the next few hours, we’re leaving,” Thane declares. “We can put all our coin together and pay someone to let us borrow their boat.”
“It can’t just be any kind of boat.” Rynthea drops the scythesword on its head, planting it into the ground and leaning on the handle. “There are sea monsters of all kinds out there. And don’t even get me started on the zerenias.”
My eyes round. “You think those are real?”
“I know they are,” she says. “My father used to be a fisherman before he opened Kamtaur. Said he saw a man walk the plank and jump straight into the ocean because he took the cotton out of his ears. The zerenias pulled him under, and he was never seen again.”
“Horse shit,” Algar spits. “There’s no way they’re real! Sea creatures who eat men and steal their identities just to walk the lands? That’s a ridiculous tale! I should know. My father was a terribly underpaid assistant to a sea biologist. He told me all the stories about them weren’t true.”
“Well, maybe he didn’t go far enough,” Rynthea says. “You try riding the deep seas without cotton in your ears and tell me how ridiculous it is when they try to eat you.”
Algar snorts. Rynthea simply rolls her eyes at him before turning her attention to me. “Do you have that dagger on you?”
“No.” I point over my shoulder at the inn. “It’s in my rucksack.”
“Get it. Someone around here has to show you how to use it.” She turns to stare Thane down. He must feel her heated gaze because he stops his practice to glare right back at her with a set jaw.
I jog off to get the dagger before they can start tearing into each other like always.
When I return, Rynthea leads the way to the other side of the field, putting some distance between us and the men. Placing her scythesword against a nearby boulder, she reaches for the handle of a dagger on her waist and grips it in hand.
“Show me your best defensive stance,” she instructs.
I grip the handle of my dagger and set my feet apart so they’re square with my shoulders. Then I bend my knees, sinking into a squat.
Rynthea suppresses a laugh as she watches me lift the dagger overhead. “Have you ever actually fought with a weapon before?”
“Is it that obvious?” I lower the dagger, and my shoulders follow in defeat. “I didn’t grow up needing to constantly defend myself like the rest of you. Please don’t make fun of me, Rynthea.”
She throws up an innocent hand. “I’m not making fun,” she says quickly, now bottling a laugh.
I narrow my eyes, trying to fight a smile, too. “But you want to.”
“I mean a little—but only because that stance was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen.”