Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 563(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
“Great gains dance with great risks,” Inkletter replied. “And you need her. The sorceress and the mate.”
Thane turned to Lowell. “What say you? Shall we wager on this incubus’s word and hope I doona find myself wed to a leech like our friend Arctos?”
Inkletter scowled, the first crack in his unflappable composure. “You knew?”
“Aye,” Thane said easily. “Arctos and I have drained many a tankard together. For all that the Skein is our only world, it’s a small one.” He smirked. “I doona know which of you blundered worse. You for botching the intel or him for trusting it. What a cock-up!” No one despised vampires like Arctos.
Inkletter said simply, “Yes.”
“I’m surprised he hasn’t dispatched her to the Helter for the monsters to feed on. That’s what we used to do to enemies—let the place torture them for us.”
The downside was creating more undead. Now Lykae never neared the Helter.
Thane’s chest tightened at a memory. Unless to seek out death in its River of Hell.
Inkletter said, “Do you want the information, or shall I sell it to one of a hundred other buyers who will leap upon this opportunity?”
“I hope I live to regret this, but you’ll have your fortune. Now tell me where this Sorceri creature dwells.”
“In the Helter.”
Silence fell like a sword.
Thane leaned back in his chair, laughing once. “With the monsters I just mentioned? O’ course she does. And for a bit more gold, I suppose you’ll trace me there.”
“I’m no transporter. Nothing could move me to enter that place. I approached its borders recently, and the malevolence there made even a scholar like me believe in true evil.”
“But I should stroll in merrily?” Thane asked, though he’d already decided he would.
“I am not aching for a mate. I need no worlds bridged.”
To Lowell, Thane said in Gaelic, “There’s game within those wilds. We’ll have to travel there anyway if the harvests come in light this year.” Craigdúr had its cattle and game, but would that be enough to feed everyone?
Lowell responded in the same, “A bloody adventure calls then. I’ll gather warlairds.”
Inkletter said in flawless Gaelic, “No, you will not.”
Thane sighed, then switched to English. “Should’ve known you’d be versed in all the Skein’s languages.”
“Yes,” Inkletter said. “I have three conditions for the knowledge I sell.”
“Canna wait to hear them.”
“When you meet the sorceress, you must tell her that a warlock named Baelor the Unraveler sent you. You must bring the oldest gold coin you possess. And you must go alone.”
Lowell crossed his arms. “Out of the question. The king of Craigdúr will no’ wander into a death pit without me.”
Thane shrugged, resolved. “Interlocking souls, my friend.” The very air inside his study had shifted, the ancient pull to his mate overruling all logic. “One day you’ll understand.”
Outside, thunder rolled over the swelling sea.
Chapter 30
Ditch
Meera stood before her, all awkward diffidence and wringing hands, droning on about some mysterious strigoi attack on Valhalland.
She fussed with her drab skirt and shifted in those tragic flats—so sensible!
The demoness in Ditch wanted to fang them off her feet and thrash them to dust.
Worse, this interruption had dragged her away from the tantalizing reverie she’d been enjoying: the night before with Thane, the heat, the surprises.
She was on the verge of…something. Some grand thought, a revelation.
Or acceptance?
No. That word she could not stomach.
Meera finished weakly, “Until the Valkyries discover who transported those monsters into their territory, none of us will be safe from the shield-maidens.”
“Debatable,” Ditch said. “Did any witches have a hand in it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then send the Valkyries a fruit basket and condolences.” She folded her hands on the desk to curb her impatience. She’d promised herself restraint. Win hearts and minds, her new motto. The coven’s tolerance of her was paper-thin, their obedience thinner. “Anything else?”
“Yes, actually,” Meera said. “I, uh, yes. You see…” She stammered like a youngling witch caught in her own pentagram.
Only one thing could make Meera Newteye more tongue-tied than usual. Forbidden thoughts. And Ditch knew exactly what her brain had fixated on: her secret meetings with Lowell.
Ditch’s tail—still smug from the night before—flicked with annoyance. Does no one think I have eyes? Ears? Witchly intuition?
As Meera stuttered something else, Ditch cut her off with an impatient wave. “While you collect that thought, tell me all about Prince Straegan.”
Meera blinked. “The Lykae prince? He’s Thane’s younger brother. They were close as boys, but Straegan’s been lost to his beast for ages. At least two Accessions ago.”
As Thane had said. “What caused it?” Though such a sublimation could happen, it was rare.
“No one knows. The nymphs brought word of the prince’s decline, and none of the Lykae denied it.”
“Naturally it was the nymphs.” They were the true information getters in the realm. And they loved to act as if they weren’t. “Nothing travels faster than gossip from their smiling lips. So if Thane dies, Straegan ascends to the throne?”