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)
A few aklas sigh, and I imagine Nicostratus swooping in with that charming smile. I sigh too, lost in thought.
“He went out this morning, or he’d have stepped in for little miss, too. Poor thing. She’ll be freezing cold and starving by now.”
I lift my head.
The aklas lower their eyes as I question them further. When the clinic is over, it doesn’t take long to find her kneeling at a fountain, damp and shivering, trying to retie a pink bow into her hair.
I sit by the fountain’s edge, calling flame to my fingertips. She glances up, then hurriedly looks away. I channel the warmth into her, urging her to move around to prevent her joints from seizing.
“I won’t tell. Just a quick stretch.”
She gulps and shakes her head; the bow she tried so hard to tie on slips off.
“If you stay like that, your joints will seize. It’ll take longer to recover.”
But she can’t be persuaded. I walk out my frustration in the gardens, where I spot a familiar, scarred figure.
If he’s here . . .
My legs quicken, and I reach out to tap him on the shoulder.
Quin’s aklo freezes, his gaze darting between me and the shadowed pavilion ahead. His wariness has my senses sharpening.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” I ask, feigning calm, though already my frustration from before is burning into something bouncy.
The aklo’s voice is clipped. “What business do you have with him?”
I lean closer, offering my best disarming grin. “It’s been a while since he and I bantered. I’m due a reminder I outmatch him.”
A low laugh cuts through the rose-scented air, the sound curling around me like the fragrance of crushed petals. “Still delusional, I see,” Quin calls, his voice unmistakably dry. “Let him through.”
I’m guided to the pavilion and spring up the steps, eager to see a friendly face.
Well, a face.
Quin sits bent over a chessboard, the weight of his thoughts evident in his pinched brow. His fingers hover over a black rook, and descend slowly—maddeningly always in control.
His gaze lifts as I approach, catching me mid-step. For a moment, neither of us speaks, the tension between us held taut. Then, after some deliberation, he moves the rook forward. “Took you a while,” he murmurs, as if we’d arranged this meeting and I’m late.
“I didn’t enter the royal city to spend my days looking for a mere merchant official.”
His fingers pause around a pawn. I’m no chess player—barely know the pieces—but the concentration coming from Quin suggests his next move is a challenging one. I sling myself on the other side of the table, sizing him up. He looks different today. His deep blue robe, a notch more exquisite than anything I’ve seen him in before, suits his distinguished figure; even seated, he gives the impression of height, of presence.
Grinning harder, I reach over the board and smooth the edge of his robe where it’s folded at the shoulder. “Extra fancy today. Must be meeting the king.”
His dark eyes clash with mine, a shivery gleam in them.
His hand snaps up, catching mine before I can withdraw. For a moment, the warmth of his touch seeps through the fabric of my glove, and then his cold words seep deeper.
“The king is close.”
“Thanks for the warning.” I peer out over the roses towards the king’s house, lowering my voice. “I’ll keep you company for a bit but at the first sight of his entourage, I’ll need to flee.”
Quin’s eyebrows lift.
I nudge the white king on the board. “I’m not really meant to be roaming around here. And I have complicated feelings about him.”
Quin turns the board and moves a knight to protect the king.
“Don’t you want to know why?” I ask.
“I’m fairly sure I can guess,” he says.
I slump an elbow on the table and drop my jaw into my hand. “He’s Nicostratus’s much-loved brother. So, I’m curious. But I’m afraid it means I have to like him. And . . .”
Those demanding eyes jump to mine.
I sigh. “Best I steer clear or I’ll get myself in trouble.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage that regardless.”
I throw my hands up in exasperation. “He actually punished an akla for wanting to give her brother a funeral.”
“Missing any key details?”
“She might have tried to leave the royal city to do it, but—”
“Escape is punishable by death,” Quin interjects. “It’s a necessary measure to protect the king and the kingdom. And the akla herself of course. A king must ensure his people’s safety.”
“There should be some leniency, surely.”
“Did he execute her?”
“Well, no.” I frown. “She ended up wet and forced to kneel for half the day. It’s outrageous.”
“There’s more to it.”
“Are you seriously on his side?”
Quin picks up a black pawn and advances it with a smirk. “We see things similarly.”
“What else justifies punishing a grieving girl?”
“The canals are extremely dangerous right now. The king’s intent is to prevent any more tragedies.”