Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 600(@200wpm)___ 480(@250wpm)___ 400(@300wpm)
Tristan kisses the top of my head. “He’s just socially inept.”
“Sylvan, what the actual fuck?” Luke hisses, and it’s such a modern and human way to put it, it grounds me back in reality.
“It is only a question in pursuit of science.” Sylvan spreads his arms. He might look harmless, but I’m wary of anyone I might meet tonight. He’s the master alchemist I exchanged letters with, so who knows what he has up his sleeve.
Lord Kyran smites him with his stormy gaze. “And what would the outcome be if that were to work? Would we torture humans until their shadows blossom? That those who we promise our souls to become our victims?”
Sylvan’s cheeks turn a bright pink, and now he avoids my gaze. “Maybe curiosity got the best of me, My Lord,” he mumbles under his breath.
“It did not ‘work’,” Tristan says through gritted teeth. “But Gloombane is dead now, and the same fate shall befall anyone else who lays their finger on my promised.”
Our small group sinks into complete silence, a dull bubble at the centre of the party, but Luke finally breaks the spell by clearing his throat. He shakes my hand. “I’m so glad to finally meet you! Sabine and Tristan have been raving about you. And I hear you delivered a two-headed cow just recently?”
Heat climbs up my cheeks, and I shrug. “It’s not a big achievement. I’ve been a vet tech in my former li—”
“You must be joking,” Luke cuts in, clearly a bit drunk on the cherin. “When I first saw the kind of cows they have here, I was ready to sneak back into our own realm!”
“He was safe at my side,” Tristan says, rubbing my shoulder as what he said before replays in my head on loop.
My love. My promised.
I look up at him, unable to hide my adoration. “A bull charged at us. It was probably just protective of the cow giving birth, but the danger was there. Tristan wrestled it into submission. It was… impressive.”
Lord Kyran laughs. “I’m surprised I’ve not heard about such a feat five times over already, Tristan.”
“Well, it wasn’t for show. It was for Nate.”
Warm bubbles of happiness go straight to my head, making the alcohol I’ve drunk already even more potent. “I didn’t know such chivalrous men still existed.”
“They do in the Nightmare Realm,” Luke supplies, and I notice him flashing Tristan a discreet wink.
Sylvan takes the opportunity to excuse himself, and soon enough it’s just the four of us discussing my experience at the Court. The conversation moves on to Valentine’s Day as a celebration, and a love feast called Ardournalia, which is celebrated by the whole Nightmare Realm, but while I can sense Luke wants to ask me more questions, when Tristan informs me the melody played by the musicians is his favorite, I let him lead me into a dance.
When I’m with him, the nightmare of what I’ve been through fades, and I get to believe that the person I was when this journey started still exists. I can still laugh, dance, and make silly comments to Tristan.
Whenever someone new comes up to talk to us, Tristan is there to mitigate any unpleasantness and guide me. I also get to see a whole new dimension of him around others, and it reminds me of how easily he took up the challenge of beer pong, how he mingled with humans with ease.
He’s just so… fun.
After a while, we drift off to one of the tables with food where he points out which snacks are vegan, but then gets distracted when a friend challenges him to a game of balancing a snowflake made out of sugar on his nose.
They both seem very proficient at it, and I have to laugh, yelling his name in encouragement.
Tristan does win, and when he approaches me, proud as a peacock, I take the snowflake off him with my tongue. Sweet but tart and crunchy, the thin, breakable candies might just be the nicest thing I’ve ever eaten. As soon as I voice that opinion Tristan requests that someone delivers a whole jar of them to the Book Mausoleum, buried in powdered sugar, so they’re safe during transport.
He’s thoughtful that way, and each kind gesture he extends to me brings to mind how gently he treated me when I was frantic, scared, about to sink into another flashback of the horrors I suffered at Gloombane’s hands.
And when my heart reacts with a joyful beat that feels almost like a little bell ringing inside my chest, I have to admit to myself that I love him too.
I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but the way he makes me feel goes far beyond infatuation. It’s lust, it’s admiration, it’s care, and softness, all combined with mushy feelings that don’t have a name. For once in my life, I don’t have to beg for scraps of affection and pretend to myself I’m satisfied with mediocre dates.