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)
More screams this time from the remaining few who hadn’t been smart enough to leave the arena floor. They huddled before the platform in their finery, covered in jewels, and cowered in fear.
Kerrigan ignored the nearest male, who cowered at her feet reciting litanies not to kill him. “You don’t have to stop on my account,” she said. “Stand up. Speak your demands to the council.”
“N-no…no,” he gasped. “Please…please don’t kill me.”
“No? You don’t want to ask this mock council for help with your fields or a break on your taxes or something else while they make the weakest among us suffer?” Kerrigan demanded, her eyes never leaving Bastian. “What do you think? Should we give him a break on his taxes?”
“Hello, Kerrigan,” Bastian said as if nothing had transpired between them at all.
He had all the warmth he’d always had for her. Real affection in his voice. A smile on his wicked face. The scars from the fire etched like a map down his face. He wasn’t the Father, leader of the Red Masks, in this moment. He was the head of the council, a revered Society member, and her mentor.
A duality that she could see like looking at him with double vision. One person layered on top of the other. But she wasn’t shaken by his duplicity. He had survived this long on the duality of his nature.
It was the break in his facade that stood at the edge of the platform poised like a knife that broke it all to pieces. Isa, at attention, her collar tight around her neck, her eyes narrowed to pinpoints. He hadn’t sent her into the fight. He wanted this to last. Or he wanted her to watch.
“Bastian,” Kerrigan said. “Quite a spectacle you’ve put on here of normalcy. But I guess you’re pretty good at that, aren’t you?”
“It’s good to have you home.”
“I bet.”
Fordham shifted at her side and then put his boot into the face of one of the forum onlookers who had just produced a knife out of his pockets. “Nuh-uh.”
The male cowered, and Fordham quickly disarmed him.
“And you brought Fordham,” Bastian said. “As expected. I hear congratulations are in order.”
“We don’t particularly want them from you,” Fordham said.
“A king doesn’t need congratulations, I suppose,” Bastian continued as if he hadn’t heard. “But a royal wedding. That’s something to look forward to.”
“Are you fishing for an invitation?” Kerrigan asked, unsure where he was taking this line of conversation. If he was just showing that he knew what was happening in the House of Shadows, it didn’t matter. None of that was private. In fact, it had all been declared very publicly.
“I think we’re past that, don’t you?” Bastian asked. He raised the hand that had been severed to reveal his metal prosthetic and used the metal fingers to twirl the Ring of Endings on his finger.
“Long past it,” she assured him.
The Ring of Endings kept him immune from magic even if its real purpose was healing. She needed to get it off his finger before they could end this. But she had a plan for that. She just needed to keep him talking.
“While this has been amusing,” Bastian said, “I would like to continue with the forum.”
“Oh, of course,” she said, taking a step to the side as if to allow the sycophants to come forward. “Looks like you’ve lost your worshippers.”
“We can start with you,” he said.
She laughed in his face. “I never worshipped you.”
“Feel free to list your unreasonable demands for the council, and we can decide whether to keep you alive after we put down your petty rebellion.”
Kerrigan’s eyes cut to Fordham. This was a new angle.
“We both know that one of us isn’t leaving this arena alive,” she said as she took a step back to Fordham’s side.
“You’re right,” Bastian said with a nod.
Then he waved his hand at Isa, some unknown command. The girl visibly bristled as she tried to resist what was coming. Kerrigan brought her magic up, expecting an attack from the assassin.
But all Isa did was drop into the sand on some unseen artifact. A hiss sounded as soon as her foot made contact, and then a trap sprang around Kerrigan and Fordham, holding them in place.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The Foot Soldiers
Clover
Clover had her amulet in her hand and a bag of magical artifacts in a bag at her hip. “Ready your troops.”
Islay and Ruen split off to the left. They’d been furious when they found out about Gerrond’s duplicity. The drifters had doubled their support after that, like they’d been putting so much stock in Gerrond’s help and then, when he’d turned out as false as all the others in the houses, they’d aligned with the revolution. It had been a real boon to her foot soldiers. Drifters weren’t all peaceful, and many of them had fallen out with war houses but had the battle experience that most humans and half-Fae lacked.