Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78886 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
But where was the curtain? The tent? There was only a closed wooden door framed by more of those pearl-size stones leading to a mystery location. Hand trembling, I twisted the knob. Hinges creaked, the entrance opening up to—hmm. Back in the tent, the curtain behind me. How was this even possible?
I slunk backward, shutting the door and sealing myself inside the luxurious bathroom. My gaze zeroed in on the rain shower, and I whimpered with longing. A steamy soak sounded as close to heaven on earth as I could get at this point. But there was no way I’d risk Viktor walking in on me.
No, you know what? I refused to bypass this opportunity. Who knew when I’d get another chance? I’d only been here a day, but I was filthy.
As fast as possible, I stripped, washed up under the perfect rainfall of hot water, then dried off with a fluffy towel that remained warm. Zero savoring occurred but hey, no one had interrupted me, and I now smelled of honey and lavender, so I called it a win.
After brushing my teeth, I shimmied into the clean clothes. Perfectly made undergarments the color of a blush, and a delightful knee-length dress in muted gold, with delicate embroidery of bold red and yellow flowers adorning the neckline and hem. Somehow, the garments fit me like a hand-tailored glove.
I also donned a pair of matching leggings. Though the outfit demanded I choose the lace-up ballet flats, I went for the boots after pulling on a pair of socks. Wince. The fabric was soft, but my cuts and bruises protested the contact. I, however, required the warmth. Designer shoes would have to wait for another day.
I retrieved my daggers and hustled into the tent to await Viktor. I expected him to sweep inside with dramatic flare, but one minute passed… ten…fifteen. Noises indicating heavy activity filtered into the tent. Still no Viktor.
I paced and waited. And waited. A soldier arrived with a fresh pot of stew. He didn’t look at me or speak, just placed the food on the desk and exited. I was miffed enough to eat every drop, saving none for Viktor.
At dinner time, a different soldier did the same, bringing in a second pot. Again, I ate every drop. When darkness descended, I started pacing again. Still no sign of Viktor. Had he forgotten me?
I should run again, just for the heck of it. But that would be foolhardy. And I was tired. A nap would do me some good. Strengthen me up. Clear my thoughts.
Mumbling under my breath about feral berserkers, I stretched out on the pallet. Sleep didn’t come easily, despite my fatigue, but it did come.
Bright and early the next morning, I woke up alone, ready to conquer the day, even willing to bargain about going home for an hour simply to pay my bills. Maybe there was another magical doorway? Except, the day bled into another and another, a pattern emerging.
As a mental clock ticked, I worried about my home and business, and the animals missing very necessary grooming appointments. I was fed three (inadequate) meals a day, ensuring I couldn’t save any nibbles for travel, and left alone until Viktor stomped into the tent to demand I play a song on the violin. He listened from beginning to end, seeming to relish every note. Then he would remind me that he’d ordered me to never play again and storm out. This occurred once every twenty-four hours—at first. By day three, it happened twice. Day four, five times. I tried to converse with him about that trip home, as well as Malachi and the Valkara, but he ignored me, interested only in the music.
At night Viktor might–might!–have snuggled me. I couldn’t be sure. He was never nearby when I woke, but the spot beside me was always warm when I woke. As soon as I figured out how I felt about that, I’d ask him.
By the two-week mark, I simmered with frustration I struggled to bottle, my nerves frayed. How many customers had I lost? Had I received a past due notice for my house? Yes, I was given a clean dress and leggings every day. Still fed and watered. But I wasn’t allowed to explore. Guards surrounded the tent at all times.
Something had to give. I had a pile of weapons hidden under the bed, but little else to show for my stay. What did Viktor do while I worried about my business and suffered from boredom in this tent anyway? And okay, maybe I wasn’t terribly bored. Or bored at all. He dropped off a box filled with romance novels set in my hometown, featuring a quirky cemetery owner and super sexy special agent, plus a series about berserkers. I gobbled them up as if I was dying of starvation.