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 tried to sit up. No. Not happening. Bending hurt too much.
I groaned at my stiff muscles and rolled off the bed.
I opened the door and found Kaiden leaning against the wall across the hallway. His eyes looked haunted, his expression pinched and tight.
“Did you hurt yourself?” he asked. “I heard a thud and then there was groaning.”
After I rolled off the bed, I’d tried to do a push-up and got the biggest nope of my life.
“I’m fine now. Where is everybody?”
“Downstairs. Having breakfast.”
I didn’t like those ghosts in his eyes. We needed to get back to normal and fast.
“Having breakfast without me? I want breakfast, too.”
He offered me his arm.
“Are you escorting me downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you, Lord Kaiden.”
We headed down the staircase. Moving was a challenge, and my knees still didn’t like the stairs, but it was a lot better than last night.
“You’re shuffling like an old woman,” he said.
What I wouldn’t give for a bottle of ibuprofen right now. I wrinkled my face at him.
“We need to work on your manners.”
“Did you die again?”
“Yes. But I killed the man who killed me.”
“Don’t die anymore,” he said quietly.
Maybe I could get some of that bitter powder from last night. It seemed to help. “It’s not like I tried to die on purpose.”
“I know. Just don’t.”
He looked away. People in Kaiden’s life died too much.
“Maybe you should ask Everard to train you, so you can save me next time.”
“Maybe you can stay home and not go anywhere, so you don’t get kidnapped and murdered.”
“That won’t work. I’ll die of boredom.”
He rolled his eyes. A little bit of his former smartass swagger came back to his face. That was better.
My stomach felt a bit queasy. I needed food. Food would make everything better.
I stumbled. My right leg folded, and I careened like a ship in a storm. Kaiden grabbed my hand, steadying me. I straightened.
“That was a close one.”
“Like an old lady,” he repeated.
“Let’s not tell Everard about that.”
I looked up and saw Everard standing at the bottom of the stairs. Damn it.
“You were supposed to tell me when she left the room,” he said.
Kaiden raised his chin. “She is hungry.”
“Then it’s good that I have breakfast ready.” Everard walked up the few remaining steps. “I’ll take it from here.”
Kaiden didn’t move.
I held out my left hand. Everard stepped to my side, I rested my hand on his arm, and the three of us descended the steps, Everard on my left and Kaiden on my right.
We reached the bottom of the stairs and strolled into the hallway, filled with the delicious aromas of cooked meat and fresh bread; I tried to keep from drooling. Ahead, voices floated from the kitchen.
“You should go,” I told Kaiden. “I’m slow right now, and I know you’re hungry.”
He glanced at Everard, let me go, and started down the hallway. Halfway to the kitchen he turned, walking backward. “No more dying.”
“I’ll try my best.”
He turned the right way around and jogged off.
Voices floated from the kitchen.
“. . . I fucked up,” Lute said.
“The woman was tortured to death, Lute,” Gort growled. “That’s not a fuckup. Leaving your weapon outside the latrine in the rain is a fuckup. This is the worst thing that could happen. Where were your eyes? How in the void did he get the drop on you? If it wasn’t for my brigandine, he would’ve shredded your kidney. You would’ve bled out right there on the street.”
“Fine,” Lute growled back.
“No, it’s not fucking fine.”
“What do you want, Dad?”
“I want you to take responsibility—”
I braced myself. I just wanted a quiet meal. Walking into the Magnar storm was a little much right now.
“We’re not going in there.” Everard steered me toward the door.
“Oh good.”
He led me outside to the stairs leading onto the wall. Yes. We were heading to my favorite spot.
“Shall I carry you again?”
“No, thank you. But please catch me if I take a tumble.”
He offered me his arm again. I climbed the stairs. It hurt but they finally ended and then we were on the wall. Someone had tilted the sail by the little table so part of it shielded us from the street. We could sit in private and watch the river. I spied a teapot, two cups, a platter of sausage, eggs, and the familiar golden pastries.
I sped up.
“Maggie?” he asked.
“Sambocades,” I told him.
He smiled and helped me to my chair.
I was full and happy. Shana’s sambocades were the stuff of legends.
Everard reached to refill my teacup. I took the teapot from him.
He raised his eyebrows.
“It’s not appropriate, Your Grace.”
“I’ve poured your tea more than once.”
“That was when you were Reynald. You’re not him any longer.” And he would never be Reynald again.
He reached into his jacket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and offered it to me. I unfolded it. A middle-aged man, brought to life by a talented artist. He had a long face with hollowed cheeks, a full mouth, and a broad nose. A short curly beard, black touched with gray, hugged his jaw. His eyebrows were thick, and his eyes were a startling light gray. He looked intelligent and grim; a worn-out knight tired of fighting for causes he didn’t believe in.