Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
He was staring at her like he had in the tunnels. Personally? No. Before now, our interactions were a lot vaguer. They were at a larger distance and didn’t put much gusto into killing me. Only now are they actually doing their job properly.
Because of the crystal chalice magic?
I am guessing so, yes.
She nodded. Do you know how their kind operates?
Yes, which is why I was trying to figure out the direction before we veered into problem-solving via the history of cinematic masterpieces.
She waved away his sarcasm. Tell me about them, then. Don’t hold back. The time you spend here will save you when I pick the right one. He seemed unconvinced, and she motioned him on with her free hand. She still held his other, taking comfort in the rough skin of his palm and the solidity of his touch. It shouldn’t have helped her relax, but she was thankful it did. Problem-solving dangerous magical situations is my greatest strength. It’s been my constant vocation for the last five years. I’ve had to read magical people, strategize their thought processes, categorize their magic, and make very precise decisions on what would keep me alive. This might be a different creature, but it won’t be a different overall scenario. Trust me, I don’t miss. Not in things like this. I can’t.
Maybe it was because he’d told her to trust him and was now trusting her in turn, or maybe he believed her—hell, maybe he didn’t have any better options—but he hurriedly relayed the broad strokes of what he knew. Which, actually, seemed like quite a lot. More than mere words filled her mind. He relayed images of their flight and training, sensory details of the conditions, perceptions—it was as though she were seeing it herself, in person. Like he’d opened a window into his head and invited her in to sift through the details.
Celestials knew they were important from their first memories and held themselves above the rest of the fae. Tarian thought this wasn’t arrogance but necessity, and she scoffed at his take. It was clear they thought themselves more than in a way humans were less. Regardless, there was no denying their duty—as he saw it, anyway. They were the peacekeepers, the oath takers. The balance of their realm, and the retribution should someone step out of line. Judge and jury. They didn’t get the luxury of being idle, not even the royalty. They put their duty first and themselves second, training for their roles, be it guardian, nobility, court justice—whatever that was—or king and queen since their first steps. They’d die for the job. Die to protect their kind and their home. Die for their kin, which they thought of as all faeries, high- and lowborn, creatures of the wyld, even the smallest flower.
Or so he believed. Everyone always had grand ideals before they were put to the test.
It was the training that she homed in on. That was the meat of this situation. She slowed him down when he “explained” their flight training, how they learned their magic and how they practiced it. How they learned to fight and the degree by which they were held to excellence. This took longer than the first assessment, drilling down to the theory behind their actions. The muscle memory that had been with them since they first held a sword.
Gotcha, she said, stepping toward the two tunnels and letting her mind run through all she’d learned. He watched her patiently, and she thought that was curious. He really was trusting her. She wasn’t sure she’d be so open-minded in his place, not trusting a human with twenty minutes’ worth of hearsay knowledge tasked with deciding their fate. She didn’t take it for granted. Couldn’t. Their lives were on the line.
She closed her eyes and let the details trickle through, a few things catching, other things vying for attention. When a solid weight formed in her gut, she knew.
We’re fucked either way, she said, and he slapped his hand over his mouth again to keep from blurting out a laugh. She grinned and shook her head. Zorn’s voice echoed through her mind, then through his.
Being afraid is a waste of one’s last minutes.
Truer advice, Tarian said, not finishing the cliché. He stood at her shoulder, holding her hand, looking at the tunnels. Looking at their combined fate. So? Which shall we choose?
18
She pointed to the left. That one, obviously.
Obviously?
Yes. Obviously. Assuming you’re sure one will be longer than the other and that they will be different…
I’m positive. They have to end at the same place. One always goes nearly straight there. The other tunnel always arches around and takes longer.
Well then, if you are to be believed, in training—whether it be flight, hand-to-hand, bow and arrow—they engage the exercise from the right. They enter the battlefield, or they wait their turn at the target, or they wait in line to be squared off with an opponent, on the right. They exit the exercise on the left, to keep things organized. They’ve done that since they were young, right? She didn’t wait for his confirmation. She’d seen it in his head. When they engage in the exercise, they do so hard and fast. After, they recuperate while they head to the next thing. In flight, you said they took the long way to soar back to starting positions until they had to do it all again. This would be etched in their minds. She pointed to the right. Hard and fast and getting to one’s destination quickly… She pointed left. Slowly getting to the destination with more opportunities for breaks. We need to go left because fatigue will be as deadly as whatever awaits us. We’ll want a chance to rest, I’m assuming.