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)
By the end of the day, I’m reduced to laughing and cursing the king in turns.
“How energetic you are,” Quin says, finding me at the back of the house.
I pass him a fork. “It’s easy to stay energised if you have the right motivation.”
“Is that right?”
I gesture to the weeds. “Imagine the faces of all who annoy you.”
I stab gleefully into the soil.
Quin sends his fork deep into the bed, close to mine. “Therapeutic.”
“Isn’t it.” I glance over at Quin, once more perfectly dressed for meeting with royalty. I pause my shovel at a fuzzy leaf. “What does he look like?”
Quin raises a questioning brow.
“The king.”
His gaze diverts across the canal toward the scholar courtyards. “Dark hair, dark eyes. Exceptionally handsome.”
I raise my brows and dig deep through the roots of a particularly persistent weed.
“Wait.” He looks suspiciously from the weed to me and back again. “Who exactly are you imagining?”
I yank up the severed root. “Thanks for the description.”
Quin’s eyes flash. “You—”
I drop the weed in his lap and slap a soil-laced hand over his mouth. “You and I, we have an unspoken understanding.”
I snatch my hand back, laughing as he fails to bite me. He looks away sharply and dusts vigorously at the dirt that’s fallen onto his lap. “I’ll leave you.”
“So soon?”
He looks at the carpet of weeds still to be removed. “You’ve plenty of company.”
I return to my maniacal digging as he disappears.
Darkness falls; the stars come out, glittering overhead. I camp under the king’s chambers beside the pearl heart, determined not a single weed will burst from this soil before dawn. I yawn and fold my cloak into a pillow to stare out at the stars. The night is crisp and clear, and somewhere outside the royal city I know Akilah is staring up at them too.
A slinky shadow on the trellis under the gable catches my eye. An urgent scrabble and a distressed meow. I sit up and call to Generalus, but he only whines. “Stuck, are you?”
I hop through the gaps between fledgeling pearl heart plants, grab onto the trellis and give it a shake. Stable.
Another meow.
I pull myself up, foot by foot, the thorns from the roses scratching up my arms where the gloves end. Small, fleeting wounds; something to fix when I get down.
The General meows again. He’s in pain, hanging from a stuck paw. I thrust myself up the last few feet and squeeze my knees around a thick branch of rose as I release my hands to untangle him. He’s scared, lashing out with his claws, adding deeper slices to my arms. I bundle him up in my robe, tight. His leg is broken—too dangerous to let him limp down the façade under his own power.
One arm curled around Generalus, I slide my foot down the trellis to find purchase and—
The trellis splinters beneath my foot, the crack echoing in my ears. I swing back wildly, clutching the General tighter as his claws rake my arm. My other hand scrambles for purchase, finding nothing but air.
Time slows as I fall, the wind rushing past me, the stars spinning overhead. The General yowls, and I brace myself for the inevitable impact. This is it. This is how I die. Not from a wyvern or a king’s wrath, but from trying to save a cat.
Strong arms catch me before the ground can. I open my eyes to a dark, kind gaze glittering beneath a hood as we glide softly to the grass.
“I’m beginning to think you like me rescuing you.”
I blink up towards that warm smile and my throat aches. I lean forward, pressing my head against his broad shoulder. His fingers still around my waist and then move gently up and down my back.
A long meow has me pulling away from him and loosening my grip on the bundle at my chest. I crouch to unravel the General. Nicostratus joins me, looming over him. “Is there anything you need?”
I shake my head and cast a spell to knit the bone correctly. The moment it has set, the cat races off into the bushes and I collapse onto the grass beside the pearl hearts.
“Wait right there.” Nicostratus returns with a blanket and a basket. He pinches crystallised ginger and holds it against my mouth. My lips graze his fingers as I take it, and shivers slink down my middle.
His gaze shutters, and he pulls his fingers back slowly. His sleeve shifts down his wrist along with the wristband I carved, and dark bruises catch my eye. I snag his hand and pull him closer, inspecting the marks on his skin.
I call up herb essences into a swirling green ball in my hand, but Nicostratus stops me. “It’s better you don’t.”
“What happened?”
He shakes his head grimly. “Nothing. Leave it.”
“That’s not nothing.”
He lets out a long breath and gestures to the food. Every single dish is a personal favourite of mine.