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 hallway ended in double doors propped wide open. Outside, a beautiful courtyard waited. Paved with beige stone and bordered by tall walls on the right and left sides, it was about twice as big as a football field. At the other end of it, across from us, a majestic keep propped up the sky, accessible by a wide staircase.
“This way, my lady.”
My guide turned right, and I followed him across the stone tiles toward the keep. The center of the courtyard was clear, probably so the knights could assemble there. To the far left, a long structure running along the wall was likely the stables. On our right, we were passing what could’ve been a spectator gallery, complete with benches and a white-and-gold overhang.
We reached the keep and kept going around it.
My feet felt like painful pancakes. The next time Everard suggested a carriage, I would take it, Shears or no.
As we passed the keep’s staircase, a blond man in ornate white armor stepped out of the doors at the top and began walking down the stairs as if he owned the entire place. A beautiful blue cloak draped his shoulders. Another knight followed him, keeping a respectful distance. Arvel. Had to be.
“Is that Lord Arvel?” I asked.
“Yes,” the knight said, his voice clipped. “Lord Arvel does not receive visitors unless there are special circumstances.”
Perhaps he thought I would charge up those stairs to fangirl-rush Arvel.
“No worries, sir. I have no plans to ambush the Lord Commander.”
Drawing unnecessary attention from the members of the Eight Families wasn’t on the agenda today. I already had Everard at home. One terrifying magical knight was enough, thank you. Putting myself on Arvel’s radar in any way would only bring disaster. It was much better to let Berengur play the middleman.
I wouldn’t have minded a glimpse of his face, though. Oh well.
The damn fortress kept going and going. How did they heat this place in the winter?
Finally, we rounded the keep, and the back courtyard came into view. Long rectangular flower beds spanned its length, filled with white flowers. Their blooms, with five petals and bright yellow centers, reminded me of jasmine flowers except they were the size of large tulips. A strong scent filled the air, bringing up memories of honeysuckle.
In the center of the courtyard, between the two rows of flower beds, a lone knight raised a big bow. His broad back was to us and as he aimed at a straw target near the far wall, the muscles on his shoulders stood out under the sleeves of his white tunic.
At least eighty yards. The red circles drawn on the straw were barely visible, and the bright red bullseye was the size of a small apple.
The bow string twanged. The arrow sliced through the air, biting deep into the bullseye, above the other two arrows already in it. He’d made a perfect triangle.
“Please wait here,” my guide murmured and headed toward the knight.
The knight nocked another arrow. His muscles stood out again and he let it loose. The arrow thudded into the center of the triangle. Impressive.
My escort approached him, bowed his head, and spoke in a low voice.
The knight lowered his bow and turned toward me.
He was in his early thirties. His blond hair, a shade darker than his golden tan, was cropped short. His jaw, with a hint of stubble, was square and flared, but not too heavy, balanced by his high cheekbones and a chiseled nose. His lips were narrow, his eyebrows thick and slightly darker than his hair, and his eyes, small and piercing blue, seemed to be caught in a permanent half-squint.
The flowers around him were delicate and fragile, and the white fabric of his tabard was so thin and light, it moved when he turned. If this had been a painting, I would’ve expected a different man, someone lean and graceful with beautiful, maybe even delicate features. Instead, he was all harsh strength and refined power. The contrast was stunning.
The sun chose that moment to break through the clouds, drenching the entire courtyard in golden light. It spilled onto him and he almost glowed.
Oh wow. The Defenders didn’t need to advertise, but if they had to, they could just slap him on a recruitment poster and call it a day.
The man listened to my escort, waved him off, and started toward me.
Here we go. I’d read the books over and over. I knew how the nobles spoke to each other. My manners were refined because, apparently, I’d been learning etiquette from the Lord of Selva. I could do this.
The closer he came, the larger he got. He was at least as tall as Gort. Maybe even taller. Six foot four? Six foot six? All the broad shoulders you would ever need. Not only was he large, but he moved so well, he reminded me of Reynald. Everard. I had to stop calling him Reynald in my head. This man walked with the same light gait of a warrior trained to respond to sudden threats.