Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115388 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Maybe he was just here.
Coincidence.
Stranger.
Another soul drawn to the wreckage of Hareef like flies to carrion.
Maybe. . .
Her gaze drifted back to the shadows behind him, searching for some logic, some anchor to fasten her racing heart.
Maybe the scent isn’t coming from him. Maybe it’s. . .
She sniffed again, slower this time, trying to isolate it.
The scent clung to the road, thick, sweet, and sinful.
But it wasn’t moving.
Not drifting in the wind.
Not approaching.
It was resting on something.
An item, maybe? A token? A shard of something Korin left behind?
Her stomach clenched.
Or maybe—gods above—this man has something that belongs to Korin.
Just like that, her fear twisted into something sharper.
Curiosity.
Her fingers curled at her sides, magic flaring just beneath her skin.
If that man held something of the dragon’s. . .then what was he doing here? And why was he watching her?
Her heartbeats picked up but she calmed herself.
No. I will not fear him or anyone else. I am not the woman I was yesterday.
She focused on her hands. More cold, whispered around her knuckles. Silver veins lit beneath her skin.
I can end this stranger if I must.
She backed away again, breath ragged. Her gaze stayed locked on his unmoving frame.
She took another step.
Then another.
Then she turned her body to go.
Get home. Don’t let him see you afraid.
She picked up her pace and didn’t hear anything.
No boots.
No breath.
Not even the wind.
That’s what made her stop again.
It’s too quiet.
She glanced over her shoulder.
He is gone. Just like that? So fast and without sound.
Her pulse spiked.
Am I safe now?
She whirled around and the man was right in front of her.
No!!!
Just a few feet away.
Too close.
Too fast.
Sol screamed.
Chapter nine
The Man. The Monster. The Flame.
Sol
A sound torn from the deepest part of Sol’s body. It echoed along the road.
Her hands flew up, glowing now, light bursting from her palms.
He just remained in front and watched her, not even a little bit afraid of what she might do.
Then she saw his eyes.
Gold.
Molten.
Burning.
Endless.
She stepped back.
He didn’t flinch.
He didn’t speak.
He just looked at her like she was the last star in the sky.
And his face.
The Goddess above.
The man’s beauty struck her like a slap across the soul. No man in Hareef looked like that. Not the King in all his polished silk. Not the prince with his crystal-cut cheekbones and rehearsed smirks.
This stranger—this impossibility in the dark—looked as if the Goddess herself had carved him with desire in mind.
His jaw was square and cruel, shadowed with the hint of a beard, lips full and curved with wicked secrets. His brows were bold, black, and arched just enough to make him appear half-amused and half-predator.
And those gold eyes made her stomach twist with awe and terror.
He looked like he’d never knelt before anything in his life.
And now he was staring only at her—a Lowly that had never been seen by anyone but her parents.
When he finally spoke, his voice was dark and deep, a rolling thunder not from the sky but from the ground itself. "What is your name?"
She blinked and then swallowed. "Y-you are not a Lowly—"
He tilted his head. "A what?"
"A Lowly. The only people that should be on this road."
"There are only certain people who can be on this road?"
"Y-yes."
He took a half step closer. "Says who?"
"King Bren." She stepped back.
"Ahhh. The king of this burning kingdom. Is he even alive still? His castle is in flames." He pointed off to the right.
She quickly glanced that way.
Far off, a raging inferno hugged the castle. Hundreds of soldiers still battled to put out the flames.
The man lowered his hand. “If I were you, I would not concern myself with a king who could not even protect his own home.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it.
He asked again, softly but firmly, "what is your name?"
She shivered and said the only thing Lowlys were supposed to say when asked. "I am. . .nothing."
He shook his head, slow and sure. "No. You are beautiful. You are enchanting. You are power."
She gasped and stepped back. “Who are you?”
“I am someone who wants to know your name.” Those gold eyes flashed. "How did you get here?"
"Get where? To this road?"
He frowned. "No. How did you get to this, as you call it. . .this kingdom."
She narrowed her eyes. "I was born here."
"You were not."
She tensed. "I-I was."
"You were not."
She backed up some more. "I must go."
"You must stay."
She lifted her hand. "Please, leave. I do not want to hurt you."
He smiled. "Try."
“What?”
“Try to hurt me.”
“B-but. . .”
“Do it.”
Fear surged with instinct, and soon her palms burned cold. Fast, she threw a blast of ice toward him.
He vanished.
What? Where did he go?!
Then a whisper came by her. "Good try, little one."
She shrieked and stumbled forward. When she turned around, he stood only three feet away from her and those golden eyes glowed brighter.
His long hair shifted in a wind that didn’t exist. And gods, the scent around him—jasmine, stormwater, flame.