Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 346(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
I snort-laughed. “Same, professor.” I forced my arms to drop to my sides as the dragon beckoned…
Time passed in silence. Then he let his arms drop, too, but he didn’t rise. He stared at me. Stared until he lifted a hand again, this time to trace my bottom lip with his thumb, as if the act alone could silence the ghosts between us. “I don’t hate you for what happened to my family,” he admitted quietly. “Not anymore.”
A beat of stunned silence. “You don’t?” I too reached out again. My fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, needing something solid to anchor me.
His gaze searched mine, unflinching. “If nothing else, being with you, really learning you, has shown me a side I never imagined existed. And it isn’t the bond making me want you, Lyssa. I don’t think it ever was.” He offered a wry, troubled smile. “You’ve haunted my dreams for as long as I can remember. At first, as the monster. But then…” He trailed off, and the silence that followed was full of unsaid things. Memories, regrets, and cries of a future we weren’t sure we could have.
“Am I interrupting something?” Adelaide asked, her tone infuriatingly casual.
I yanked upright with a sharp inhale. In my daze, I hadn’t even heard her approach.
My sister stood at the edge of the chamber, framed by stone walls and wood beams. Her hair was a mess of tangled curls threaded with twigs, and streaks of dirt smeared her cheek and brow. She wore a blood-stained tunic and battered leathers, her entire presence crackling with leftover adrenaline.
Whatever she’d been doing, it had left a glaze of battle-heat burning in her irises.
“By the way, I took the liberty of gathering multiple teacups for your perusal. They’re in the throne room.” She informed us, her tone overly casual.
“You are absolutely interrupting,” Taron growled, pushing to his feet with stiff reluctance, his scowl thunderous.
Adelaide simply shrugged, unfazed by the moment she’d shattered. “Relax, lovers. We’ve got more important things to discuss. Actually, forget the teacups. There are problems waiting, too.”
Typical Adelaide, completely unmoved by awkward timing or after-kisses intimacy, able to change destinies. In a matter of hours—minutes!—Taron and I would drink the bond-breaker potion. My desperation to be near him, gone. Supposedly.
Would he want me anyway? The most delightful, effervescent flutters erupted in my belly. Until my next thought came. Desire me or not, he would still go home. Inside, I flinched. Our time together had come to an end. And that was good. For the best.
“Explain,” I said, and sighed.
Adelaide strode closer and flicked a glance between us, her mouth twitching with amusement. “For starters, Councilman Roland Hoffmann has fled the castle. Taken his son and several other soldiers. He killed Councilmen Ansel and Hugo, who tried to stop him, then hid their bodies and cut off Cedric’s hands, freeing him from our chains, and passed him on to Lorik.”
A heavy weight settled in my stomach. Of course, Roland was the traitor. My hands balled. Ducking his responsibility to the citizens of Mourfall. Challenging my rule. Trying to force me into a marriage with his eldest child. The signs had been there, plain as firelight, but I’d been too consumed by Taron to notice.
My sister thrust an envelope into my hands. “He left you a note.”
I ripped open the flap, not even caring that Adelaide was already reading over my shoulder.
Your Majesty,
I owe you the truth, even if it earns your hatred and changes nothing.
For centuries, I have stood as guardian of this realm. I watched the crown fall once and have never forgotten the blood, the hunger, the years it took us to claw our way back from the brink. When you rose, you ushered in an age of peace and beauty in Ashmorra, and for that, you have my enduring loyalty and gratitude.
But this threat is not like the others. You are not strong enough to defeat Lorik. Not while you are so distracted with other wars. That of your curse. Your human. If the crown falls again, there will be no rebuilding, only annihilation. Every city. Every life. I won’t allow that future to come to pass. I cannot.
Your father understands the shifter king better than any living soul. He alone can face him and survive. He was once my friend, and I believe—no, I know—I can reach him. Perhaps he is even the fabled phoenix we’ve waited centuries to see rise.
You will call my actions treason. I accept that judgment. But understand this: I do not act against you. I act for Ashmorra. For our people. For the realm that has already paid too high a price for hope misplaced.
I have chosen the path that gives us a chance to live. If I’m wrong, history will brand me a traitor. If I’m right, our people survive.