Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
“Magical storm, magical side effects.” I shrug. “I’ll move quickly, though. If I’m not able to get the fog up before the circle dissolves, then we have bigger problems than the Cŵn Annwn.”
“I’ll hold the shield until you’re ready.”
“Thank you.” As nauseating as it occasionally is to be in the presence of Bowen and Evelyn and their sickly sweet love for each other, they are both so fucking useful. The witch has more spells than I reckoned, and they’re all adaptable to whatever situation we’re in. “If you’re ready, Bowen, I’ll get Bastian.”
The big man gives a tight nod. “I’m ready.” Without another word, he strides across the deck and up the stairs to the upper deck, Evelyn a half pace behind him. The upper deck is where she put the amplifying circle, the better for me to be able to see what I’m attempting to obscure.
I take a few moments to touch base with each group of air-users. They’re all grimly determined, shoving their fear down deep. We’ve been in places of crisis before, and while this is particularly devastating, fear will get you killed out here on the sea. Hope is everything, and determination even more so. They won’t falter.
Next, I head to my cabin to gather up Bastian. He’s been waiting there with Siobhan, and he damn well had better be resting. I step through the door but don’t move farther in, aware of how my wet clothing drips onto the wood. Bastian sits in the center of the open space, his legs crossed and his hands resting loosely on his knees. Most of the people that I encounter in Threshold have magic inherent in their blood and family histories. Evelyn is one of the few ritual casters who combines natural skill with ritual. I’m not sure if Bastian’s meditation will help the magic or is meant to settle his nerves, but now isn’t the time to ask. “We’re ready.”
Siobhan looks like she’s still trying to come up with a different solution to this problem. I don’t know if it’s worry for him or simply the feeling of being helpless that she’s so unfamiliar with, but it’s clear she’s uncomfortable with the whole situation. She puts a good face on it, though. “Where do you want me?”
A testament of her trust—and the potentially fatal outcome of this race against time—that she’s content to let me lead for now. I manage a smile for her, even if I can’t come up with reassuring words. “You’re with me on the upper deck.”
There’s not really anything for her to do, but I am achingly aware that ordering her to stay in a cabin is the equivalent of tormenting her. I would feel the same way in her position. She’s more than capable of staying safe on deck despite the storm.
Bastian rises easily to his feet and stretches his arms overhead. It takes me an extra second to register the fact that he’s wearing my clothes again. A thrum of pure pleasure, inconvenient and horribly timed, courses through me. Damn it, I hate that I still want him. I hate that I still care about him. There’s a small part of me that’s almost grateful for the life-and-death situation we find ourselves in, because it’s an excellent distraction from my treacherous heart. He was careless with me, and yet there’s a part of me that wants to wipe away all of our history and start again.
I never considered myself a romantic fool, but these two seem to bring it out in me.
We step onto the deck and are immediately slapped in the face with intense rain. I curse and hold my hand to shield my eyes. “Damn storm.”
“It will work in our favor,” Bastian calls over the howling wind. “The more wind and rain, the easier to obscure the details.”
He’s got a point. I squint into the darkness. “I’ll create fog to further obscure their vision, and Bowen will orchestrate a large wave to hide us from view temporarily. That’s your opportunity to create the glamour of a second Audacity. Send it north and west, cheating west a little, and hopefully they’ll follow.” If they don’t, we’re going to have a fight on our hands.
“Okay.” He rolls his shoulders and then cracks his neck. “I can only create glamour on line of sight, so I’ll need to be in the crow’s nest.”
One of the most dangerous places on this ship right now, with lightning still flashing far too regularly for my peace of mind. That it hasn’t hit us yet is more a testament to the storm playing with its prey than to anything else. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
His expression goes stony and stubborn; nothing like the charming playboy I once grew to love. “Then we might as well prepare for a fight, because all this effort will be for nothing. You don’t even like me, Nox. What do you care if I die while saving your crew?”