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’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Get over yourself.” I place the medicine vial down on the bed and tug his shirt up. It takes everything in me not to react to his rock-hard abs and impressive pecs. Even with a few battle scars, he’s a delicious sight. Honestly, the scars make him sexier, though I’ll never admit that out loud, and especially not to him.
“Stare harder, why don’t you?” There’s clearly humor in his tone.
I poke his wound. He grunts and swallows the pain through gritted teeth.
“Stop your shit talking or I won’t numb the wound,” I threaten politely.
“You’re not as nice as I thought you were, oh sweet one.”
“I am nice. Just not when it comes to dealing with jerks like you.” I open the vial and press the towel to the mouth of it, allowing the translucent yellow liquid to soak into the fibers. I place it on his wound, and he winces, his muscles tensing before settling again.
I use the other towel to wipe sweat from his forehead, and in the process, his eyes latch on mine. I want to look away, I really do, but I’m stuck—lost in his deep, golden irises.
“I thought you were going to die.” My words come out sounding more vulnerable than I expected.
“It’ll take more than water to kill me.” His hand curls around mine. I squeeze it as my heart flutters. His palm is warm with hardly any calluses, likely from those fingerless gloves he wears.
I’ve never seen so much of his skin before and find it hard not to absorb every detail. On his forearm is the letter D, but each point of the letter is sharp and jagged. It matches the same D on the dagger he gave me in Delchester Forest, only this D has a raised slash cutting through it. It’s as if someone pressed something hot to his skin to try and burn it off.
The Divine.
“Thane?” I struggle with my next set of words, looking into his eyes for answers. He waits for me to speak. I chicken out, pulling my hand out of his. “Turn on your side,” I murmur instead.
He hesitates before doing as he’s told. When he flips over, I freeze again. On his back is the most intricate (and upsetting) ink design I’ve ever seen.
The hilt of a sword starts at the top of his spine and slopes downward just for the tip of the blade to end at the small of his back. Swirls of black ink wrap around the blade like whispers of smoke. In the center of the blade are the letters S and G. The letters are stacked, the bottom curve of the S bleeding into the G and ending with more swirls. It takes me a second to realize the whispers of smoke are meant to be shadows. And the sword is the letter T.
The Shadow Guild.
I have to look really close to make out the blend of the letters. But I’m not mistaken. I try to swallow as Thane glances over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Whatever Maliek used went straight through his body, so I grab the vial again, dribbling some more liquid onto the towel before rubbing it on his wound.
When I’m done, he rests on his back again and sighs as he tugs his tunic down.
“So just a heads-up, you should try and be still so you can heal faster. Xiaodera—the queen—is not a fan of yours. And Algar and I think Maliek will come back. If he shows up at Immalonian borders trying to attack, she won’t hesitate to feed you to the wolves, so to speak.”
He shifts on the bed. “Maliek won’t be coming back.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I drove my sword into his heart and threw his body into the rapids before the bridge collapsed. He’s likely at the bottom of the waterfall now, food for the fish…or the monsters. Whatever deems him appetizing enough.”
“Oh.” He has no idea how much relief this brings me. “Are you sure?”
He looks me in the eye with certainty and says, “He’s dead, Zaira.”
“Okay.” I release a steady breath. “I still think we should leave here as soon as possible.”
“We will.” He studies me as I study him. There are so many things I want to ask. So many things I want him to explain.
He frowns. “I don’t like when you look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m fragile.”
I shift closer. “Is it possible that you are?”
“Far from it,” he grumbles.
“Broken, then?” I offer.
He swivels his gaze to the ceiling.
“Thane, I know you think we should keep things on the surface, but you can talk to me.” I grab his hand and hold on to it, collecting his attention again. “I think it’s ridiculous that you chose your line of work, and I think I’m ridiculous for embarking on this journey…and hiring you to accompany me…but that makes us both a little ridiculous. But, as ridiculous as this all is, I mean what I say. You can talk to me. I’m a pretty good listener and would never tell anyone your secrets.”