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 swirls the liquid around in his glass. “How times have changed,” he adds, his low voice brimming with contempt. I have a feeling a lot of that contempt is reserved for Andor.
“Your father sounds like quite the man,” I say politely.
He scoffs. “Unfortunately, he’s still alive.”
I look at Andor for guidance and he gestures to an emerald velvet couch across from where Solla and Vidar are sitting. I notice that Kjell isn’t here, and I breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
I sit down beside Andor, the couch small for his large frame, and my thighs are pressed against his. I try to move over as much as I can, but he makes no such attempt and stays right where he is. If anything I swear he’s pressing himself against me on purpose.
I give him a dirty look, but he just stares at me with a wicked gleam in his eyes, his mouth twisted in a smug smile. He’s enjoying this. There’s a small, ignored part of me that enjoys this close proximity too.
Meanwhile Torsten saunters over to me with a glass of alcohol, his movements as graceful as Vidar’s. “Here,” he says begrudgingly. “It would be bad luck if you were the only one not toasting House Kolbeck.”
I grip the glass and watch Torsten intently. He’s the type of man you never want to take your eyes off. When you encounter a predator, you have to watch them closely so you can be prepared for when they strike.
Meanwhile Andor has started to fidget with his dragon-tooth necklace.
“To House Kolbeck,” Torsten says, raising his glass to his family before doing so to the dragon skull. “And to our enemies, for they only make us stronger.”
“Hear, hear,” everyone but me says, though Andor mumbles it under his breath.
I take a sip of the liquor, the strength feeling like it’s singeing my eyelashes, though I must say the finish is smooth and smoky. It tastes expensive, nothing like the stuff that’s sold at the Dark City markets.
Torsten is watching me carefully as I swallow the drink down.
“And what do you think?” he asks me. “Have you had peat alcohol before?”
“I don’t even know what peat is,” I say, to which Solla laughs. I think she’s making fun of me but it’s hard to tell with her.
Torsten gives me a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course not. I suppose you don’t have peat in your world. Then again, I’m sure there are things that are grown and enjoyed in Esland that we can’t even imagine.”
I don’t know if he’s being condescending or not but it doesn’t matter. “There are certain things, such as alcohol from a cactus grown outside the convent, and nuts harvested from certain shrubs, but we don’t get any of that in the Banished Land, especially not when the Soffers control our water,” I say.
“Ah,” Torsten says. “Your punishment for believing in the wrong gods.”
“Our punishment for questioning the government,” I say. “Which I suppose is the same thing.”
“Mmmm. Did you know the Kolbecks were one of the first families who left Sorland once the dragons were confined?” Torsten asks me, his heavy-lidded, golden gaze steady on mine.
“I figured as much,” I say. “Though I never learned much about the other realms. The schools in Esland are quick to censor the truth.”
“We went to Esland first,” he goes on. “Found it too inhospitable. Nothing but sand and rock and death. Then we moved on across the Drage Passage to what is now Altus Dugrell. We found a land of wealth and prosperity. But you Eslanders, instead of following in our footsteps, you went to Esland and stayed there, perhaps because it’s the closest port to the Midlands. Your false beliefs stifled you.”
“Not her beliefs, remember?” Andor says.
“Semantics,” Torsten says. “She was raised in those beliefs. As much as we like to say that we’re in charge of our destiny, where you’re from, who raised you…all of that is imprinted deeply. It’s hard to escape from your birthright.”
I raise my brow at his statement. I want to point out that I did escape from my birthright and I am in charge of my own destiny. But seeing that I’m currently in the grasp of the Kolbecks, I don’t have a leg to stand on, and Torsten seems the type to form an opinion about you that’s set in stone, immovable no matter what you say.
So I decide to bring the conversation back to him and make it personal. The way he brushed away questions about his own father gives me something to work with.
“If what you say is true,” I say to Torsten after a small sip of my drink, “then I’m extra curious as to what happened with your father.”
He gives me a hard stare, trying to intimidate me. I stare right back, though I can tell that the eyes of the rest of the Kolbecks are volleying between us.