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 surrender,” Tillmar squeezed out, his voice hoarse.
“My lord!” Gort called. “I know this man. He will talk.”
“I haven’t decided if I want him to talk,” Everard said.
He reached the man. The sword rose.
The man braced himself. His shoulders shuddered.
“Please don’t!” I called out.
Everard looked up at me. A long moment passed.
The man stared at the ground.
“Don’t move,” Everard told him.
The man froze as if petrified.
The Fatefire died.
“I know you are there,” Everard said.
A figure stood up on the north side of our house wearing a ninja-like get up. One of Solentine’s people. Had to be. He’d left a babysitter for us.
“Get down here,” Everard ordered. “I have a job for you.”
The figure tossed a rope down and slipped into our courtyard.
Everard looked in Gort’s direction. The old mercenary hurried over.
“Take him to the basement.”
Gort nodded to his sons. They flanked Tillmar like two hounds and herded him inside.
Everard looked up at me.
“Don’t walk down the stairs by yourself. I will come and get you.”
I chased Kaiden out, Clover helped me throw on one of my two housedresses—it still hurt to raise my arms—and headed for the stairs.
“My lady, your hair!”
“Never mind.”
Someone had broken into our home trying to murder us. The condition of my hair was the least of my worries.
I marched out the door and to the stairs. Everard was already there, blocking the way. He saw me. I was on the top of the stairs, and he was one step down. We were almost the same height, and I saw his expression shift. His eyes darkened. A slight smile lifted the corners of his mouth. My brain identified the look and screeched to a halt.
For a moment we just stared at each other.
“Your hair is down,” he said. The smile got deeper.
In Rellas, the only time a man would see a woman with her hair down without any sort of decoration would be if they were about to climb into the same bed together.
“For crying out loud, it’s not like I ran out here wearing nothing but lace and leather.”
His eyes went wide. He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
And that was exactly the wrong thing to say. Me and my big mouth.
I jerked my hands up, rolling my hair into a bun. “Clover! I need a hairpin!”
She darted out of my bedroom, thrust a hairpin at me, and ran back inside.
I pinned my bun in place. “There, it’s fine now.”
“Leather and lace. I’m still trying to picture it.”
“Don’t.”
“Is it not usually either or? How would one combine the two . . .” He gave me a contemplative glance.
“You need to broaden your horizons. Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?
“You were cut.”
“I wasn’t. I’m wearing chainmail under my clothes.”
He moved like that while wearing chainmail? I had lifted some up a few days ago when Gort was working on it. It had weighed about thirty pounds.
“Take my arm, Maggie. I don’t want you falling down the stairs.”
Grrr. Unfortunately, while I could move okay on flat ground, the stairs were still a problem. I took his arm. We started down slowly, taking the steps one at a time. Each time my foot touched the stone, a spike of pain shot up into my leg.
“I get why going up the stairs is hard, but we’re going down the stairs. Why does it hurt more?”
“It’s the force of all of your weight landing on your foot. Goes straight into the knee. The first thing the heavy-armor knights learn is to never jump off their horse or they will have no knees left by their middle age. Would you like me to carry you? You can explain more about the leather and lace to me.”
“No.” I’d had enough bridal carry for a lifetime. “You just fought. Aren’t you tired?”
“From that?”
Of course, why would anyone be tired from hacking at eight people with an oversized chunk of metal? Silly me.
He stopped on the landing and didn’t move.
“Shouldn’t we be going downstairs to interrogate that man?”
“Let him sweat. The more he waits, the louder he’ll sing. Thank you for playing along. It was just the right touch.”
He never meant to kill Tillmar. He had just wanted to intimidate him into talking. He thought I was in on his plan, and I would absolutely take credit for that.
“Any time.”
We stood on the landing close enough for Solentine to have kittens if he saw us. My hand was on his arm.
“Are they Redeemers?”
He shook his head. “Not good enough.”
“Then who?”
“We’ll find out shortly.”
We stood together. A minute crawled by.
“Solentine left us a babysitter.”
He made a noise halfway between mhm and a growl.
“Still upset that I took his offer, I see.”
“It was a regrettable decision, my lady.”
There was more than one way to say “my lady.” Gort said it without any thought behind it, as a common courtesy. Clover said it like a pledge of loyalty. Just now Everard had said it like I belonged to him. Like I was his lover. That “my lady” was a declaration of exclusivity, desire, and intent.