Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132138 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 661(@200wpm)___ 529(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Panic threatens to suffuse me. I feel that odd tingle that starts in my hands whenever I’m truly frightened. That tingle that always comes before the fire.
Not now. Tears prick my eyes. I have to get it under control. I can’t lose it now in front of everyone.
Over the years, I was truly afraid a few times, and each time a fire began. The first was an overzealous suitor who plunged his hands down my bodice. The chair beneath him caught fire mysteriously.
Then there was the vendor buying vegetables who thought I was a part of the bargain. His warehouse went up in flames.
Each time I felt my hands warm and tingle before whatever I was pointing at caught fire. It frightens me. I know not what it means except my death if I’m caught.
“Dear Isolde.” The mayor clucks and hauls me close, his arm going around my waist. The guards chuckle behind me, making rude statements. I can smell the perfume Micha uses to mask his odor. “I can see this news has frightened you. Please, my love, do not worry your pretty head. There will be no revolt. You are absolutely safe with me. Bronwyn Finn is as worthless as her brothers. She’s dead or as good as. She’s no threat to anyone.”
No threat. Useless. Yes, I feel that.
There’s a loud shout, and the crowds begin to move, opening up for the guard charging toward the mayor. The dancing stops as a high wail is heard. Everyone—peasant, farmer, noble—turns to the edge of the crowd.
The guard strides forward, the small body in his hands no impediment to his movement.
I gasp, shock and fear threatening to overtake me. Ove. She looks so tiny in the brutish guard’s hold, her delicate feet dangling. The bastard has the wee brownie by her throat. Ove’s eyes are bulging already as she struggles to breathe.
“Let her go!” I shout, tearing away from the mayor. I think about nothing but the fact that Ove can’t last long. The guard’s hand fits easily around her throat, and he could break her neck without even thinking about it. “You’re killing her. She’s a child. She didn’t mean any harm. She only wanted to see the dancing.”
She’s barely two. A child in brownie years, not quite on the cusp of her womanhood. She’s a baby who wants to come to the party, hold a ribbon in her hands while she prances around the maypole with the other children. I know what happened. She snuck from safety, hoping to catch a glimpse of the party she should have attended. Ove doesn’t understand the principles of purity. Ove wants to play with her friends. And now she’s dying.
“Seize her!” the mayor orders.
It isn’t until the guards grab my arms that I realize he’s talking about me. I’m brought back to the mayor. At the edge of the crowd, Gillian stands, shaking her head, her eyes begging me to stay calm, to play my part. We’re surrounded by guards, at least one for every five villagers, and food is scarce. The villagers are weak. They would be no match for the huge guards.
“You will have to excuse my fiancée. She is a gentle soul who needs a firm hand to guide her.” Micha’s eyes narrow on me, his mouth a flat line that promises retribution. He turns and looks at the guard who holds the brownie. “What is that thing doing here ruining my party?”
The guard drops Ove to the ground, her body hitting the dirt with a thud. The brownie drags air into her lungs, her long fingers touching her throat. “I found the thing in the bushes watching the dancing.”
The mayor sneers down at the sweet girl. “Take it away. Throw it on the fire. I don’t care, but I want no further disruptions.”
I can’t allow it. I can’t stand here and play my part and watch Ove burn in the flames. But flames…oh, I feel them. The tingling in my hands is stronger than ever, and I can’t deny it. Without thinking, going only on instinct, I call out to that power inside me and point at the guard who holds a sword to Ove’s throat. Fire sparks on the guard’s tunic, a flash that erupts in all-out flames, engulfing him.
A hideous scream fills the waning day, and all eyes are on me.
The fire came from my hands. I hold them up, and like a sorceress calling her power, I direct it to my enemy.
The mayor gapes my way, fear in his eyes.
“Witch,” he whispers.
And then a horrible pain hits the back of my head and darkness takes me.
Chapter Ten
Shim
I feel her panic. It starts like a hundred ghostly fingers brushing across my flesh, making bumps appear in their wake. I sit straight up in the chair I am occupying while drinking some of the tea Paige Harper poured with a practiced hand. The young sidhe looks very much like her mother, with strawberry-blonde hair and a wide smile. She appears to be between fourteen and sixteen years of age, but she proves her maturity as I begin to shake.