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)
“Don’t forget your chain,” he commanded. “Make sure you and your partner are secured for weapons class. Today, Duchess Mimidae is teaching you how to properly wield a spear, my favorite weapon.” As we stood and filed out, he called, “Lady Roosa. A word.”
I winced and glanced at Roman. “I’ll meet you in the hallway.”
“Nope,” he said with a shake of his head, his usual smug but lovable self. “We’re bound together, baby. Where you go, I go. Instructor’s orders.”
Wonderful. Tremors overtook me as we approached Heta’s desk.
The archduke leaned back in his chair, linked his fingers over his middle, and peered up at us. “If your personal life continues to disrupt my classes, I won’t be pleased. I don’t care who you’re dating. I will excuse no tardies, tolerate no disrespect, and show no preferential treatment. Do you understand?”
“Sir, yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” I replied, and I meant it.
“Dismissed.” He turned his focus to his files, saying nothing else.
Roman grabbed a thin metal cord and guided me out of the room. My guards followed. In the hall, the trainee slung his arms around my shoulders, saying quietly, “I haven’t forgotten your super-secret, special mission before all this started. I’m sure you can’t speak about what’s going on . . .”
“Correct. I can’t,” I confirmed.
“Just be careful. I’ve heard things.”
As the son of a marquis, Roman had grown up among the gentry. “Don’t stop there. Tell me what you’ve heard.” I kept my volume as low as his, ensuring the guards heard nothing. “And while you’re at it, finish what you were saying earlier, about Cyrus. Why is his shot at king low?”
“Hang on.” Roman led me into the commons, a spacious room divided into a trio of sections designated for entertainment, studying, and dining. But he didn’t stop. On we went, entering another hallway before descending a flight of stairs. Rather than huddling up in our next classroom, he kept me in the thick of a crowd, dozens of conversations taking place around us as trainees and soldiers rushed here and there. He bent his head and told me, “I heard the HP and his grandfather are feuding. Started recently. I don’t know all the details . . .” He paused, giving me a chance to respond.
“I don’t either.” At Roman’s look of disbelief, I added, “Honestly, I know nothing about a feud.” Cyrus hadn’t mentioned it. I wondered, though. Did it revolve around me, the nobody girlfriend? I mean, our relationship was a recent development as well.
For victory, I would absolutely, unequivocally end the relationship. At least publicly. And temporarily. Don’t vomit. “You mentioned High Prince Felix is the front-runner. Do you know why?”
“A year ago, a glower killed his wife. He’s been on a revenge tour ever since. Across the board, his stats are mind-blowing.”
Okay, forget recruiting him. He wouldn’t be interested in becoming a glower like me and Cyrus. Although, there must be more to the story of his wife’s death. A mistake of some sort. Murder wasn’t the Soalian way. That much, I knew.
“Look,” Roman said. “Whatever caused the quarrel between grandfather and grandson, Cyrus will have to patch things up if he wants to win the crown.”
I raised my chin, determined. “Mark my words. Cyrus will be the next king of Ourland.” Quarrel or not, we would find a way. Nothing would stop us now.
Chapter Three
In fear, there is no safety, solace, or stillness, only a path to ruin.
—The Book of Soal 1.18.3.26
How I survived weapons training with Roman tethered to my side, I may never fully understand. Before class began, we secured the nexus of chain to our waists, both of us grimacing as we realized only a few inches separated our bodies—and there was no way to undo it. The fasteners cinched tight.
As we trained with weapons, he operated with total abandon and zero qualms. He spun this way and that, taking me along for the ride as he wielded his spear with expert precision, protecting us both from the hologram we fought. Anyone who got in our way got mowed down. By the end, bruises marred my legs, but I didn’t mind. Roman took the time to help me learn from my mistakes, surprisingly patient and endearingly amusing.
At lunch, he ate his meal bar and half of mine. He also drank most of my hy-water. A blessing, honestly. I was resolute: no bathroom breaks today. Standing at his side during his breaks was bad enough.
I even survived running a complicated obstacle course during drills, chased by a horde of holographic feeders. Actually, I excelled at the course; mostly because Roman tossed me over walls whenever necessary.
We didn’t collide until self-defense class, now taught by some unknown baron rather than Cyrus. My partner zigged when I zagged, and I ended up with a ton more bruises and several cuts. Completely my fault! I remained distracted, continuing to mull the possibility of a breakup with Cyrus.