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)
But no. Despite his finery, Hreban himself looked perfectly unremarkable, even mildly attractive in that particular way that resulted from a lifetime of wealth, good food, and expert grooming. If you put him in a suit and trimmed his hair, he would pass for an aging tech bro about to give a TED talk on the power of AI and the miracles of angel investing. By the end of the second book, he had spilled so much blood, it could fill a lake, but if I had run into him in a grocery store, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance.
“A gilded toad,” a male voice said next to me.
I almost jumped.
A man leaned on the column on the other side of the rail, barely a foot away. His pale gray cloak hid him from top to bottom, but he had left his hood down. Tall, around thirty, light skin with a hint of a tan, longish brown hair, defined jaw, strong eyebrows, a regal nose . . .
Handsome. Like should-be-on-a-poster-somewhere handsome. His tired old cloak and his face seemed mismatched. Like bumping into a stranger on a crowded street and catching a glimpse of an elven prince under the hood of a worn-out sweatshirt. His eyes were striking, a rich golden hazel. I had no idea who he was, but he had just called Hreban a toad in public and didn’t seem concerned about it.
The man leaned forward slightly, shortening the distance between us. Suddenly I was uneasy. The ornate wooden rail barely came up to my waist. It didn’t feel like enough of a barrier.
“Do you think the toad knows he is a toad?” he asked.
He was referencing a folktale from the second book. The story said that three centuries ago Mad King Eble lost his mind and thought that a toad he found in the garden was talking to him and giving him sage advice. He’d commissioned golden vestments for the toad and forced his counselors to give their reports to it. One of the counselors was renowned for his honesty, and when the king asked him directly if the toad would want even grander clothes, the minister replied, “Your Majesty, no matter how you gild it, a toad knows it’s just a toad.” The king crushed the toad with his fist and then chopped the minister’s head off.
The man was looking at me. I had to say something.
Don’t say the wrong thing, don’t say the wrong thing . . .
I kept my voice quiet. “It isn’t wise to disparage the head of a Great Family.”
“For you, perhaps.”
He wasn’t afraid of Hreban. Who the hell was he? Brown hair, hazel eyes, beautiful face . . . Beauty was subjective. No crest, no scars, no unique facial features. Without something specific, I could think of a dozen characters that would loosely fit the bill.
“If you recall, that story didn’t end well for the counselor,” I said.
“Ah, but I wouldn’t be the counselor.”
“Who would you be?”
“The king, of course.”
“Then let’s hope you’re less mad than Eble.”
His lips curved.
An attendant ran up to the fairy queen hostess. The hostess bowed to Hreban and said something. He nodded, and he and his bodyguard followed her to the side. There would be a staircase there, just out of sight, leading to the second floor.
“There he goes, hopping off. Good riddance.” The man looked back at me. “You and I have something in common.”
We had nothing in common. “And what would that be?”
“We’re both in a place we shouldn’t be, pretending to be someone we are not.”
What did that mean?
His eyes narrowed. His mouth was still smiling, but the way he looked at me made me want to take off like a rocket.
“Who are you? I mean, who are you really?”
Panic squirmed through me. “Nobody worth noticing.”
“Too late for that.”
He put one hand on the rail about to hop over it to my side.
“My lord,” Galiene called out.
The man let go of the rail.
Galiene approached us, a female attendant behind her. Klemena chose this moment to pop out of some side door on the left and almost ran into Galiene. The queen of the Garden arched an eyebrow, and Klemena bowed her head and fell in step with the other attendant.
The three of them reached us. Galiene looked at the man, her expression flawlessly polite. “You seem to have mistaken one of our guests for an attendant, my lord.”
The man smiled back at her, looking unrepentant, like a cat who’d been caught seconds before he was about to steal steak off the counter.
“My apologies.” He didn’t sound particularly apologetic either.
“Your room is ready, and your companion is eager to meet you.”
The man gave me a mock sigh. “Alas, one shouldn’t keep such a rare beauty waiting.”
“Very considerate of you, my lord.” Galiene’s tone had just a touch of dryness to it.