Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“You’d be doing me a great favour, nephew,” the duke says, his tone honeyed but his eyes hard. “Swift action is what your people expect, after all.”
Quin’s knuckles whiten around the cane, but his expression remains impeccably serene. “Go on.”
I still have rosehip reserves; I call them all up from my veins into a bright pink flame and channel it into Quin’s chest. Harmless to his health, but potent enough to make his innards itch like mad.
Immediately, Quin starts writhing in his seat.
I stop abruptly, bowing low. “Should I continue?”
He delivers a tight smile that promises later consequences.
I hide a responding smirk, then rise and sink the rest of the spell into him bit by bit as he writhes.
For the pearl heart.
For enjoying it.
When it’s done, I shuffle back, bowing to take my leave, but Quin stops me.
“Stay there,” he says, still affecting a sickly shade to his voice, “in case the cough reappears.”
“That shouldn’t—” He throws me a sharp look and I stop. “Yes, your majesty.”
Quin plasters on a smile and addresses his uncle. “What brings you . . . here to visit?”
“I thought we agreed, in return for my support on Nicostratus’s birthday, the spring gala would take place.”
“Isn’t it happening as we speak?”
“I’ve heard your aklos and aklas have been ordered not to attend on the final day.”
“With rogue water wyverns about and the gala being along the canal, I want to keep them safe.”
“You can always attend the gala yourself.”
Quin rubs his chin, as if thinking hard about it. “You have stopped a number of attacks, that’s true.”
“Of course. The kingdom and the safety of its people are paramount.”
Quin smiles weakly. “I’m not sure I could stop the wyverns though. It’s been a long time since I practiced controlling them. I was young, the last time I went to Hinsard.”
“Your father and I both thought after—” the high duke looks pointedly at Quin’s poisoned leg. “We believed focusing on your academic education was more important.”
“You did what you thought was best, I know. You are always looking after me and helping my mother.”
The high duke’s lips twitch slyly; he smooths it into a gracious smile. “No one could anticipate the arrival of rogue water wyverns in the royal city.”
I wonder if the handle of Quin’s cane will need replacing after this meeting.
“Seeing I will be attending the gala,” the high duke says, “you should feel assured. This is the event of the year for the aklos and aklas. They do so much for you. They deserve this day. Don’t you agree?”
“They are invaluable to me.”
“So reward them!” He laughs robustly.
I shiver.
He continues, “I’m sure your mother would tell you the same thing.”
Quin’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes; his grip tightens again on the cane. “If only the vitalians were half as useful as you, uncle,” he says. His tone is brittle with affected weakness, but there—the shift of his hand over his cane, a glimpse of restrained venom.
“I’m sorry she must rely on me.”
“I still don’t understand how she can’t fight it off when you did.”
“I have a stronger constitution.” The high duke reaches out and pats the shoulder of the king. “It’s just a thimbleful of blood; I don’t mind helping out when I can.”
Quin inclines his head reverently and the high duke breathes deeply, like the air tastes magnificent.
“I shall take my leave. Rest up. Enjoy the gala . . . festivities.”
He sweeps away with half the redcloaks in tow. Those remaining, Quin dismisses. I start to scramble, only to be delivered a flat look. “You stay.”
When we’re alone, he turns to me. “Mentally unstable? You’re not afraid of me at all.”
“I can’t say I’m not afraid of your uncle. He’s planning something for Sunday’s gala.”
“To be sure.”
My stomach rolls. “Are you truly rusty at controlling the wyverns?”
“That is, in fact, his hope. He wants me to lose credibility, publicly. He wants to claim I’m not my father’s son.”
“So prove him wrong. Control the wyverns. Have your men help if necessary.”
“That’s his back-up plan. If I have to act, he’ll know who my supporters are. He’ll make sure they all succumb.”
“If you force the wyverns into submission alone?”
He stares out at the vista of the royal city. “Quietly manipulating better outcomes for my people will be over. He’ll know my true strength, doubt my every move. He’ll be determined to be rid of me. But not before he stops giving my mother her antidote. Not before he makes me watch her suffer until she . . .”
I close my eyes, briefly. “What will you do?”
Quin stares hard at the long canal and the colourful stalls set along its bank. He sighs, looks at me, and steps forward. “We have other things to discuss.”
I cast my gaze to the grass between us.
“Don’t act shy now.”
“Shy?” I snort, stepping back. “Playing the part of your dutiful subject. Isn’t that what you like?”