Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
He stares at me for a moment, probably thinking I’m backward and crazy. He shrugs. “Then you’ve come to the right place.” He puts the torch back in its holder and leans against the castle wall, watching me curiously for a moment before he looks up at the sky again.
Then I feel it.
A splash of water on the back of my neck.
I look up to see a drop falling from the dark, cloudy sky, and in one slowed-down moment I see the flames from the torch reflected in it, right before it lands on my forehead with a wet splash.
I gasp, unable to keep the awe from my voice, and look at Andor with wide eyes.
“Lonely drops always lead to a deluge,” he tells me, then nods at the sky. “Here she comes.”
And suddenly it’s like the sky tips a barrel of water over, rain streaming from the clouds and engulfing us in seconds. It hits hard, bouncing off my skin, soaking my hair, my dress, and Lemi starts running around in circles, happily snapping his jaws at the air, trying to catch each drop.
I giggle, a high, shrill sound that I haven’t heard come from my own lips since I was a child. Then before I can stop myself from regressing, I throw my arms out, put my head back to the sky, and start spinning in circles with my eyes closed. The rain falls and falls and I feel like it’s cleansing me of everything I’ve ever done and everything I have yet to do. Perhaps this is why the Kolbecks seem at peace with their nature—the constant rain here is always wiping their souls and slates clean. The Soffers always believe people were purified by dragon fire, but this way seems so much better.
Finally, once I’m thoroughly soaked, I stop spinning. Or at least I try to, but the world seems to go on anyway and I find myself listing over, off-balance and dizzy. Suddenly Andor is there, at my side, his arms around me and holding me up, solid and strong.
I allow myself to keep the joy alive for one more second than I should, and I lean into him. He stiffens, sucking in a breath, but he doesn’t move. His grasp is wet and warm and he doesn’t let up, doesn’t let go of me until I know I need to push him away.
You’re not supposed to enjoy the company of your blackmailer’s arms.
I straighten up and step out of his embrace and see a strange darkness in his eyes, one that both makes me uneasy and intrigues me at the same time.
“Well, I’m thoroughly wet now,” I say, and the way his gaze ignites, along with a lift of his brow, I know he’s thinking of euphemisms now. “From the rain,” I say, clearing my throat. “Shall we go inside?”
He nods, his lips curving into a ghost of a smile before he turns and heads to the door.
Chapter 12
Brynla
I wake up to Lemi licking my hand.
“Go outside,” I tell him with a groan, rolling over and pulling the covers over my head. “Go pee outside,” I mumble again.
He whines and I hear him sit on his haunches, his nails scratching on the floor.
I could sleep forever, sinking deeper into a dreamless cocoon. To become aware is to feel my body, and my body doesn’t feel right. My mouth is dry and tastes like wine, and my head feels like my skull has thickened on the inside. It’s not just the alcohol, it’s some sort of strange pressure in the air.
I dreamed it was raining, the feeling of water dropping on my chilled arms, as I looked up to a cloudy sky, as Andor watched me with amusement and held me in his arms.
But no, none of that was a dream, was it?
I push back the covers from my face and open my eyes, staring at the ceiling. Wooden reliefs of stags in a forest scene are carved into beams that cross pale gold paint. My bedspread itself is composed of the softest sheets beneath a plush golden velvet blanket with amber tassels at the ends, the same jeweled tone of Andor’s eyes.
I roll my head to the side and look at Lemi. He’s attentive, his head cocked to the side, watching me and waiting for something.
“You know how to travel outside,” I say to him. “I’m sure you can appear down in the courtyard or the orchard and then come right back here.”
It’s then that I realize his paws are muddy. He’s already done that. Now he wants something else. Breakfast, I suppose.
And there it is, the scent of fried salt pork wafting in from somewhere. I had left the door to the balcony open a smidge, just to feel the refreshing night air as I slept, though from a security point of view, I suppose that wasn’t very wise. I left that dinner with the distinct impression that Torsten and Kjell Kolbeck want me dead.