Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“And yet, you’re willing to risk everything for that shadow,” she says softly.
The latch finally pops with a sharp click, and cold air rushes in. I glance at Akilah, her steady gaze brimming with the unspoken.
“I’ll find a way to help my family,” I whisper. “But I need—” My voice falters. “I need more than this.”
She nods. “Go.”
I pull Akilah into a tight hug and slip through the shutters. The night air bites at my skin as I creep along in the shadows; halfway to the gate I round a corner and slam—
Into my bride.
I lurch back in horror, my stomach twisting at the sight of her. Her silk skirts are a cascade of rich golds, embroidered with white vines that are spelled to glow. Jewelled chains dangle from her belt and sleeves, jingling with her movements. And her braided hair gleams with tiny golden clasps and a delicate, pearl-encrusted veil. She’s very pretty—a noble bride—and I should be more than grateful she’s chosen me.
But.
Her dark eyes widen, and the sharp edge of her surprise quickly gives way to something harsher. Behind her, her aklas stand stiffly, their hands on the hips of their matching white robes. “What are you doing?” Her voice is low, but panic flashes in her eyes. “It’s bad luck to see me before I’ve presented myself to your family to collect you.”
“Megaera . . . this—” I shake my head, over and over. “It can’t happen.”
Her voice rises, cutting through the quiet night. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t love me either,” I say, my voice trembling.
Her mouth tightens and anger flickers across her face. “Do you think this is my choice? Do you think I want to marry a man who has no interest in me? There are other reasons for marriage!”
I stagger back from her, my chest heaving. “Not for me. I’m sorry.”
“Cael—” she starts, but her words twist and sharpen. “Stop him!”
Her people surge forward.
I spin and bolt for the gate, but a small army of steps claps over the cobblestones behind me. A hand grips my robe, yanking me backward with enough force to expel the air from me. I twist violently, and the heavy fabric of my sleeve tears free as I stumble forward.
Another aklo lunges, his fingers digging into my shoulder. Pain lances through me as I yank back with everything I have.
“Let go!” I snap.
He tightens his grip and I slam my heel against his shin until his grunt of pain gives me just enough slack to wrench free.
A third aklo blocks my path, his arms outstretched. I duck low and slither beneath him, the cobblestones scraping my ribs. The evening air stings as I scramble to my feet and sprint harder.
Behind me, Megaera’s voice cuts through the chaos.
Father’s yell follows hers, thunderous and commanding.
The narrow streets of the city close in around me as I dart through twisting alleys. The aklos’ footsteps pound against the road behind me, but I take every narrow turn, every sharp corner, until the sounds grow fainter.
Finally, I burst free of the city and into the woods, my chest heaving, body trembling. The sounds of the chase fade as I slip through shadows until I’m finally alone, panting, in the middle of the forest.
I laugh bitterly.
I’ve escaped my wedding, but with nothing but embroidered boots, jewelled braids, and . . . and the flask Akilah saved for me.
I might not get far with this, but it’ll be far enough. I can heal in exchange for food and shelter. I can start a new life. Maybe I’ll stumble into him again on my travels, not that I’ll try to find him. Certainly not that I’d care if I don’t. Calix Solin, Maskios, liar . . . Akilah is wrong. I didn’t run from marriage for him. For a person that makes me feel red inside.
I slam a palm over rough bark and on the lingering sting, I slump through the woods towards an unknown future.
As for the one I left behind . . . I slam my eyes shut on the kind faces I’ve just abandoned. Akilah; my soft-hearted mother; my beautiful little niece Lucetta, who I so often carry on my shoulders. Just last night, we’d watched the stars, her bouncing up and down, gleefully pointing to the shiniest ones . . .
I swallow. At least . . . At least they won’t have to worry about me getting them into trouble anymore.
A sudden ferocious gust of wind slams into me, scattering pine needles like daggers. The sharp stench of burning magic—wet wood and scorched thimbleweed—floods the air.
I gag as I scour the woods. Vespertines? Crusaders? Water wyverns?
No, not that . . . I sniff the air. My heart sinks. Not wild magic. Sentinian.
Deadly.
I run away from a storm of cries and snapping branches nearby, but the forest seems to shudder with the force of it. I scramble up an embankment, clawing at roots for balance and suddenly, the chaos halts. The wind dies and the air settles into an eerie stillness.