Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136009 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“Cut off the head of the snake,” Zina said.
“They’re not ready for us,” Kerrigan said.
Tieran jostled her slightly. “Don’t get arrogant.”
“Have you met me?”
“I want you to survive to ride with me again. Get in, do your job, and get out. There’s more than one man on the field. Remember that.”
“I will,” she assured him, then slid off his back.
“Is Tieran reminding you to be careful?” Fordham asked as he jumped off Netta’s back.
“Something like that.”
“I’m telling her not to be reckless and die.”
Fordham smirked. “I’ve got her back, Tieran.”
“That is the only reason I approved this asinine plan.”
“First, I don’t need your approval,” Kerrigan said. “And second, this is not one of my reckless jumps.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Then Tieran nudged Netta, and they disappeared into the army below.
Fordham took her hand. “It isn’t reckless.”
“Maybe a little.”
He laughed. “Okay. Maybe a little, but who would you be if you didn’t take risks?”
“That’s what I’m happy to find out when this is all over,” she said, leaning forward to whisper into his ear, “Husband.”
He whipped back and smiled down at her. Then he brought their lips together, long and torturously slow. “My wife.”
“On your cue,” she breathed, meeting his storm-cloud eyes.
“Three, two…”
The “one” was muffled as shadows enveloped them and they dropped into the nothing, appearing at the center of the newly erected arena just as Fordham had the first time she had ever laid eyes on him.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The Forum
His shadows swept away from him as they landed in the sand to a chorus of gasps. “Always love a good entrance.”
Kerrigan barely suppressed a laugh. This was not a laughing matter. And yet…
The dragon tournament arena had been hastily reconstructed over the months since Bastian’s coup d’état. The once-grand arena still looked as if someone had cleaved the space in half. Bits of mortar and some creative earthwork couldn’t cover what Bastian had done when he had seized power.
Even with all the new seating, the place was only about a third full. Typically a forum brought in the entire city of Kinkadia and a show of force from all the houses. Everyone wanted an excuse to speak their mind to the Society, even if Fae were the only ones to get a voice.
The humans and half-Fae still came to listen to the problems of the day. It was a good excuse to drink and feast. It helped that it usually aligned with the last days of fall, when no one reasonable traveled up north—except perhaps dragons, and even they had limits with the weather. The only winter travel after this was for Geivhrea.
Which meant that if their forces didn’t accomplish their mission, the next chance would be with the spring thaw.
“Did we miss the party?” Kerrigan asked as everyone in the forum turned their eyes to the intruders. “I do love a good faerie punch. The red kind is my favorite, but I’m not picky.”
Screams rang up from the audience as members scrambled away from the intruders. The line of Fae waiting to speak with the council about their concerns scattered like ants in an overturned anthill. Kerrigan had no intention of hurting these simpering sycophants, but they certainly didn’t know that.
Her eyes were only for Bastian, who sat clearly at the head of the erected platform at the end of the arena, not a hundred feet away from where she and Fordham stood. The twenty additional council members were arranged around him. She knew all their names, who had been added to replace Helly after her murder, who among them were seated for power or fear or shame. Only Alura did she truly believe felt regret for what had happened. The rest would pay. They would all pay for what they had done.
But first, Bastian.
“No punch then, I guess,” Kerrigan said as she stepped forward.
Her walking toward the council broke the spell on the arena floor. Guards rushed them, drawing swords and magic. Most guards weren’t incredibly proficient with magic, but a quick assessment of the dozen who approached her proved that they were probably the best of the lot. These were Red Masks in guard uniforms.
Fordham shot her a grin. “Ready?”
“My favorite part.”
She might not have been at a hundred percent, but as soon as she’d stepped into the arena, her nerves had settled. The what-ifs cleared. The planning was over. There was only the here and now. No more waiting. Just the fight that she’d stepped into. And from here on out, there was only forward.
The first guard came at her with such poor form that she didn’t even feel bad when she cut him down like a scythe through a wheat field. Fordham was at her back, hacking at guards with the ease of a practiced soldier. It was almost unfair to the guards, but they had made their choice. Whether because of their beliefs or their duty, this was who they had stood behind.