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)
I braced myself and opened the door. Everard waited on the other side, as promised.
“Does it hurt to walk?”
“I’ll manage.”
He offered me his arm. I rested my hand on it, and we walked to the stairs. I was able to move now. The bath and the bitter powder must’ve helped.
We climbed the stairs in awkward silence. One, two, three . . .
I clenched my teeth. It hurt so much.
Seven . . . Eight . . . I couldn’t do it anymore.
“May I?” he asked.
I gave up. “Yes.”
He picked me up and started up the stairs. My face was only a few inches from his. His arms were rock steady. His profile was harsh, as if it had been carved from stone, but he carried me as if I were made of glass.
He was so gentle. After everything the Butcher had done to me, I should’ve been alarmed at being touched, and yet this felt comforting and safe. Not possessive, but protective, as if he were shielding me from a storm with his body. This was completely absurd. I was being carried by the Sleepless Duke. That alone should’ve sent me into near panic, and instead I had to fight to keep from wrapping my arms around him, desperate for closer contact. Somehow, this was helping more than the bath and the safety of the familiar walls around me.
“Does it hurt worse this time than the last?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Is it more painful every time you die?”
“No. The second time hurt a lot less than the first. I think it’s how much damage the body has to heal. He did a lot of damage.”
His face had that steel-hard flat expression. He was controlling himself.
“It really wasn’t Lute’s fault,” I said.
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It happened very fast.”
“I know.”
“He didn’t have a chance to react.”
“Maggie, I know whose fault this was. It was mine. I allowed you to go out.”
“I insisted.”
“And I should’ve insisted on coming with you. I didn’t, because you were angry with me, and I selfishly wanted things to be the way they were before.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” I told him softly.
“We’ll have to find out.”
We stopped before the door of my suite. He put me back on my feet.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He opened the door and walked me to the bed. The lanterns were already on, glowing with soft light, and the bedroom felt familiar and yet not quite safe. I sat on the covers.
Everard walked to my window, checked to make sure it was locked, then went into my office and checked the window there.
“I lock it now,” I told him. “After Solentine.”
Everard came back. He was dressed in black, and in the gentle light of the lanterns, he looked like a wraith woven from the night shadows.
“May I stay and watch over you?”
I wanted so much to say yes. Now, in the quiet of the bedroom, the ghost of the Butcher stirred, hiding in dark corners, waiting in the gloom under the bed. It would be so nice to fall asleep knowing Everard was right here.
I’d already hugged him and cried on top of him. That part of the carriage ride was a tortured blur. I had crossed every line, and I needed to reassert a boundary. What happened in the carriage had to stay in the carriage.
I needed to thank him for his kind offer and tell him I would be fine.
I wasn’t fine.
“Yes.” I would regret this moment of weakness later, but right now I needed him to be here, or I would start screaming.
He got a chair from the study, brought it in, and placed it by my bed.
“Lanterns on or off?”
“On.”
I wasn’t ready for darkness. Not yet.
He nodded and sat in the chair.
“Rest well. You are safe.”
I pulled the blanket over myself.
A faint rustling came from under my bed. The little stelka crawled onto the covers, hissed at Everard, and curled up next to me. Her cold nose nudged my side. I petted her soft fur.
For a while I just lay there. I was so tired but sleep just wasn’t coming.
“Have you settled on a name for her?” he asked.
“Sushi.”
“Odd but pretty.”
I petted the stelka. The house was quiet.
“Thank you for finding me.”
“This will never happen to you again as long as I live.” He swore it like an oath. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Did Lute tell you about the man from the Garden?”
“He said you bought him from the Harzi. We’ll talk about that tomorrow, after you rest.”
“The man from the Garden is Silveren.”
“I see.” He said it like he was pronouncing a death sentence.
“If he comes here looking for me . . .”
“If anyone enters this house tonight, even if they appear by magic, I will know and I will kill them.”
“Silveren is a good fighter.”
“I’m better.”
“The Tower . . .”