Total pages in book: 222
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 210715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1054(@200wpm)___ 843(@250wpm)___ 702(@300wpm)
Reynald took it all in and sat on the floor next to me.
“What are we doing?”
“Waiting for the fish fairy.”
“I didn’t quite catch that.”
I must’ve said fairy in English. Tiny, winged humanoids weren’t a part of Rellasian mythology.
I passed him my notes. I’d finished them while watching the plate.
“What is this?” he asked.
“This is what the Butcher does.” Two scenes from the first book in nightmare-inducing detail.
He read the pages. I watched the plate.
Reynald finished and set the pages aside.
“I need to visit the Scribe Chamber,” I said.
“Why?”
I told him.
“I’ll take you,” he said.
We fell silent. Minutes stretched by.
Something rustled under the bed. I kept still.
Another rustle.
A fluffy round head poked out from under the blanket dripping to the floor.
The little red stelka looked at me, flicked her ears, and slunk over to the plate. She sniffed the not-ham, looked at me and Reynald, showing off the white crescent-shaped patch on her chest, bit the meat, and carried it off. As she ducked back under the bed, I caught a glimpse of my old gown. She’d made a nest out of it.
Reynald watched my new pet vanish under the bed with a stoic expression.
“That’s one thing about you, Maggie. Being with you is never boring.”
CHAPTER 22
PLANTER 24
The Rabeh Bridge spanned the Koreg River at a narrow point, stretching one hundred yards across the water. Its gray stone was worn down by countless feet, its rail smudged by time and the touch of many hands. It felt ancient, its lines simple but timeless.
As Reynald, Kaiden, and I walked across it now, it felt like passing from one world into another. The sounds of the bustling city behind us receded with each step. Ahead, at the other end of the bridge, a beautiful garden bloomed. Slender willow-like trees dripped long thin branches to the river, washing their scarlet leaves in the water. Behind the red willows, taller trees rose, bright green and bearing big white blossoms.
It was Planter 24, Resday, the final day of Rellas’s eight-day week. Tonight the Butcher would leave a mangled body at the Knight Vanquisher Plaza. All the preparations had been made. All the plans had been gone over. There was nothing left to do. We were out of time.
“Where are we going?” Kaiden asked for the third time.
“You will see,” Reynald said.
We crossed the bridge. A wide, paved path unrolled in front of us, stretching into the distance, flanked by greenery and flowers. Other paths branched from it, each marked with a signpost.
I pulled the scrap of paper from the pocket in my sleeve and checked it. “Row 202.”
We started down the path.
Above us, ragged clouds slid across the sky, dappling the garden in light and shadow. Little winged lizards, colored like gemstones, scuttled up the trees and occasionally leaped off and glided to other trunks. Birds chirped in the canopy.
As we passed the paths branching off, I caught glimpses of wooden signs that hung from the tree branches. Most were sealed with several coats of resin, but a few were worn and weathered. Some had small pieces of colorful glass embedded in them, and when the sun caught them, they glowed like jewels.
“Where are we?” Kaiden asked.
“Sonndor,” I said.
Kaiden eyed me. “And that is?”
“The cemetery,” Reynald told him.
Kaiden fell silent.
Finally, we reached the right row and made our turn onto a narrow path paved with stone blocks. Lines of trees greeted us on both sides, each identified by a stone marker with a number on it. The wooden signs on their branches swayed gently in the breeze.
We passed more red willows, some goldenberries that reminded me of dwarf oaks, and a handful of twisted marse trees, their split trunks braiding over each other.
Let’s see, 202–18, 202–20, 202–22. There.
I stopped before a twisted marse, its leaves a beautiful green streaked with purple veins. Over a dozen wooden signs hung suspended from its branches. This plot had been recently tended to—the weeds had been removed, and new flowers had been planted in a ring around the tree’s roots, their blossoms small and white like little stars. The clerics of the Dridag had done a good job. Well worth the fee.
Two wooden signs, brand new and sealed with resin, hung off the branches. One had a glass flower with pale blue petals and the other had a small lock attached to it with a tiny chain.
Kaiden stared at the signs.
“Your father was born outside of Kair Toren,” I told him. “But your mother’s family is from the city. I didn’t think he would mind joining them. I’m sure that if we could ask him, he would want to be with your mother.”
Kaiden stared at the tree.
“She found your parents’ ashes,” Reynald told him. “They were stored in the Temple of Dridag because nobody paid the burial fee. Maggie paid the fee and had them buried here.”