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)
The look on his face was priceless. I was telling him family secrets only the closest to the Demarrs could know.
“Brune has been approached by a noble who is trying to get him to invest in a silver mine. In twelve days, he will sign documents putting that stupid vineyard up as collateral for the loan. His thirtieth wedding anniversary is coming up and when he heard the proposal, he thought the mine would be a nice present for his wife because the first gift he had ever given Griele was a silver necklace that she still treasures to this day. Brune married into the family and brought very little wealth with him. He always wanted to contribute.”
That bug-eyed expression he was making was so satisfying.
“The silver mine does not exist. Your family will lose the vineyard that has been its pride and joy for centuries, and you will have to do heinous things to get it back. It will break your uncle. He will never recover from it.”
Solentine opened his mouth and closed it without a word.
That vine incident had made Solentine who he was. It taught him that what he valued most was his family. He felt deep unrelenting shame, and he had sworn that he would never again do anything to harm his loved ones. I had hit him where it hurt.
“You should take a few days and see to it,” Everard said.
Solentine clenched his teeth.
“She is never wrong,” Everard said. “She may be off on dates, but if she says it will come to pass, it will.”
Technically, I’d been wrong quite a bit.
“Go take care of your family, Sol. I’ll stay here.”
“Your word?”
Everard nodded.
“Don’t leave,” Solentine said. “I’m begging you. Stay inside these four walls until I return. Don’t do anything. I will be back before the week’s end.”
I took a stack of pages from the shelf and handed it to him. “Light reading for the road. Burn it after you’re done.”
I had written out the brief timeline of events in case something happened to me and Reynald had to continue alone. This would save me a lot of explanations.
Solentine gave me a wild look and dropped through the window.
“Nicely done,” Everard said.
I didn’t answer.
The silence stood between us like a wall.
“What happened to the real Reynald?” I asked.
“He died.”
My heart squeezed itself into a tiny ball. “Did you kill him?”
“No. It was an accident. His horse fell. He died of internal bleeding three days later.”
“When?”
“He passed in the early morning on the sixth of Planter.”
I felt sad, worn out, and desperate. My heart hurt.
“Maggie,” he said quietly.
“Please leave.”
He turned, walked out the door into the hallway, and stopped just outside my room, wrapped in shadow. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I will never hurt you.”
My voice sounded hollow. “I liked you better when you were Reynald.”
“So did I.”
He walked away.
I took a piece of paper with Butcher’s hair from the desk and held it up to the lantern. A tiny drop of blood swelled on some of the hair ends. I must’ve really ripped a chunk out of his scalp.
There was blood on my sleeve, too, and it wasn’t mine.
Blood was good.
I folded the paper in half, slipped it into an envelope, and placed the envelope into the top drawer of the desk. I walked down the hallway, knocked on Clover’s door, and told the children it was safe to come out. Everard wouldn’t hurt them. He considered them his people. Then I went back to my suite, closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it. The triple moons shone their light through the open window.
I’d trusted him. I’d told him things.
He’d sat with me on the wall and tried to distract me from worrying by telling funny stories about the Conquerors, he’d held my hand on the bench in Sonndor, and when he’d smiled, he’d looked so . . .
He’d lied to me and used me. Just like he used other people to get what he wanted.
Everard was a strategist. Stepping between the kids and the slavers, swearing to put himself in front of the disaster that would grip Kair Toren, winning me over step by step; all of it was part of a carefully calculated approach. Everything had been precisely measured and flawlessly executed. Holding my hand had been part of the plan.
Was anything he’d said real?
Probably not.
It hurt so much.
CHAPTER 24
I had woken up with a dead fish on my stomach. It was freshly caught, wet and slightly bloody, and the mix of water and fish blood had soaked through my nightshirt. My pet stelka must’ve decided that an emergency snack would make everything better.
I took the fish off, set it on a plate I had stolen from the kitchen yesterday, and left it by the bed. Then I used the bathroom and washed my face and my chest. My left side was black and blue where the Butcher had rammed the pommel of his sword into my ribs. I was pretty sure one of them was either cracked or broken because it hurt like hell if I bent the wrong way.