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 thin wall of fury and will to survive that had held me together tore, and I cried. Angry, violent sobs rocked me. My body spasmed and hurt. The pain was everywhere, in my bones, in my joints, in every cell. I clung to him, and I cried and cried, shuddering.
He shifted, molding his body to mine, shielding me with his arm from the hard wall of the carriage. I pressed my face against his chest and cried harder. I couldn’t stop.
He stroked my back and held me.
Finally, the last of the panic and rage leaked out of me. I fell silent.
He was still rubbing my back, gently, lightly, his touch bringing me back to reality. My head rested on his chest.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“He’s as dead as any corpse I’ve ever seen.”
“So we can’t question him?”
“Maggie, he doesn’t have a face anymore.”
“Oh.”
The carriage slowed.
“Conqueror checkpoint ahead,” Will announced through a small window in the front wall. “Do you want me to turn back?”
“No. Stay the course,” Everard said.
If they checked the carriage, they would find Everard. He would have to fight. I tried to push away from him. He shook his head and hugged me to him.
We stopped. Heavy footsteps approached.
Dark smoke coiled about Everard, slipping over the arm I had wrapped around him, curling from him to the floor of the carriage. His eyes turned a bright, murderous green.
A knock resonated through the carriage.
“The Order of the Conqueror, inspecting all carriages by demand of the king!” a deep voice growled.
I froze. I didn’t know what to do.
The door swung open. A man in armor peered in at us. His eyes widened.
“Close the door,” Everard ordered, his voice like ice.
The knight shut the door and called out, “All clear!”
“Who is in there?” a woman asked.
“No one we want to find. Move along!”
A hand slapped the carriage, and we started forward.
I sagged against Everard.
“Everything will be fine,” he promised. “We’re almost home.”
For once, I believed every word.
CHAPTER 27
The carriage couldn’t make it through our gate. We stopped just outside of it. Everard picked me up again and carried me through the tunnel into the courtyard.
“I can walk,” I told him.
“You have no shoes.”
“They hurt my feet.”
He looked at me for a second.
We reached the house door, and then he brought me down the hallway toward our communal bath. A door swung open. Clover and Shana stood in front of the stone tub of steaming water. Clover saw me and went pale.
Everard tried to bring me in, but Shana blocked his way. “My lord, we’ve got it from here.”
For a moment, he hesitated, still gripping me to him, then he set me on my feet.
“Support her. She is in pain.”
I stumbled, but Clover caught me. I looked back to Everard. I didn’t want him to go.
“I will be right outside,” he promised.
Shana shut the door in his face.
I tried to walk, and the pain punched my knees. I gritted my teeth.
Shana caught me by my waist and steadied me. “This won’t take but a moment. Hold on.”
Clover stripped the remnants of my bloody shift off me.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “That fucking asshole ruined the beautiful dress you made.”
Clover swallowed. “No worries, my lady. I’ll make you another one.”
“Maggie,” I told her.
“Maggie.”
I could see myself and I was covered in blood.
“Hold on to me.” Shana wrapped her arm around my waist.
I took a step, winced, and took another one. Clover bit her lip.
“It’s fine,” I told her. “This is just pain from the healing after I died. The fucker shattered my kneecaps.”
Whatever magic was keeping me alive had a lot more to heal this time around.
Clover shut her eyes for a moment.
Shana maneuvered me over to the drain in the floor and stood back, holding my hands. “Clover, I need that bucket!”
Clover grabbed a bucket and carried it over. Hot water hit me, smelling like lavender.
“Another,” Shana said.
Clover brought another bucket, dumped it on me, and started pulling my braids out and soaping up my hair.
“I can do this,” I told them.
“No, you really can’t,” Clover said.
I didn’t have the energy to fight with them. Standing was enough of an effort. They soaped me up, scrubbed me, dumped more water on me, ran the shower, and finally deposited me into the tub. I melted into the hot water. The heat soothed the ache clenching my muscles. I couldn’t smell the blood anymore, only lavender.
Shana picked up the bloody rags and walked out of the room. Clover sat on a stool next to the bathtub and held out a cup to me.
“What is it?”
“Hot wine with a bitter powder. It will soothe the pain and let you rest.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to sleep.”
“It’s medicinal. You need it.”
“How about tea? I’ll drink tea.”
“Wine is better.” She thrust it into my hands.