Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114925 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 575(@200wpm)___ 460(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“I received a call while you were . . . otherwise occupied,” he said, spreading an apple-and-fig mixture over the bread without looking my way. “We’ve been summoned to the throne room. Twenty minutes.”
He didn’t ask what I’d read, and I didn’t explain, more worried about his distant demeanor than comparing stories. I clasped his wrist, stalling him. “You are my favorite person. That hasn’t changed, and it won’t. If you believe nothing else,” I said, using words he’d once spoken to me, “believe I’m dedicated to you.”
He cast me a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know you favor me, Pink.”
But he wanted my love. And I wanted to assure him I’d reached that point. Yet, if I spoke the words now, when I wasn’t yet certain, we’d both regret it.
We ate in silence, and I hustled to the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth, braided my hair, scrubbed up, and dressed in clean fatigues. Three seconds remained on the timer when I joined him in the foyer.
The moment I was within reach, he cupped my nape and swung me into the wall. My new favorite position. With his face hovering inches from mine, he blazed all kinds of fire at me. “I requested this before, and I’m requesting it again. I’ll request it every day forever. Whatever you must do to survive, do it. Promise me.”
I licked my lips, my throat going dry. Today, we began the trials, and as the emperor had noted, not everyone would come out alive. “I promise. You too. No dying, Cyrus Dolion. I have plans for you.”
“Schedule me for a discussion of these plans. I demand every detail.” He swooped down and pressed a swift kiss into my lips, then ushered me into the hall. Two guards jumped to attention, moving into our path.
“I’m here to serve you, High Prince Dolion,” one guard said.
The other kept his attention just over my head. “This way, Lady Roosa.”
They were odd, these men. Handsome and strong, but as robotic as the meta, evincing no emotion. They reminded me of the soldiers King Tagin had turned into mindless drones who obeyed his every command.
Had the emperor altered them? I couldn’t ask Cyrus. He was already on the go. And wouldn’t you know it, Lolli sidled up to his side, acting as if being choked by him yesterday was already forgiven and forgotten.
She winked at me over her shoulder before smiling up at him and saying something that made him bark out a laugh.
I bit the inside of my cheek. Either I trusted him, or I didn’t. And really, look at everything I was putting him through with Domino.
Sighing, I followed my guard down the hall. Other trainees exited their rooms and rushed over to join us. Any meta we came across, we avoided, moving out of their way.
Only Roman appeared well rested and at ease. He slung his arm around my shoulders. “You ready for this?”
“Let’s hope so,” I grumbled, missing Cyrus, and yes, Domino too. A fact that filled me with immense guilt. Anyway. I’d rather be with the emperor, finding the key to the energy field. But that would come later.
The guard led us through a series of tunnels, archways, and winding staircases. Finally he stopped, stepped aside, and motioned to an open doorway. My knees quaked as we entered . . . a torture chamber? Crumbling stone walls, stained and splattered with dried blood. A rack and other instruments of torture waited here, there, everywhere.
“Yeah, I’m suddenly not so glad I’m here,” Miller muttered.
“No one will be upset if you return to the base,” Winslet retorted, doing her best to appear unaffected. Impossible, considering she’d turned ashen.
“Excuse me. I see someone I’m soon to know.” Roman released me and bounded over to a beauty with the most severe case of perma-scowl I’d ever seen.
The only other female among us, other than Winslet, caught my gaze and winked. “Lolli says hi.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Attention,” the guard called.
All of us jumped into the correct formation and pose. Mr. Vyle entered the room, wearing his customary suit, looking quite dapper. Chipper, even. He motioned to another guard, who entered with a large box. “Each of you pick a weapon.”
When my turn came, I peered into the box. Everything we’d trained with and more. What were we going to do with these?
Nervous sweat beaded my brow as a thousand scenarios dashed through my mind. We’d either act as a team or fight as individuals. Maybe feeders would flood the room, and we’d need to kill or capture as many as possible. Worst case, we’d be forced to interrogate a glower in front of everyone.
I selected the netter, the most familiar to me—and the least damaging to others.
“We have a problem,” Mr. Vyle announced. “There are twenty of you, but we need only fifteen.”