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)
Still. It was time I did something. Pushed past the point of tolerance, I stomped outside, ready to tell the guards where they could go. I drew to a halt instead. They were gone. Everyone was.
I’d been deserted?
Oh! In the distance, a blood splattered Prince Bodi strode around a corner, shouting orders to the men who followed him. “Elek, ready the horses. Laszlo, find my–” He spotted me and missed a step. Confusion twisted his features. Anger and determination followed, hardening his expression.
Dread prickled my nape. Uh-oh. Had Viktor experienced another berserkerage? “Where is he?”
“Did you teleport?” Bodi demanded, aiming for me. “Is that how you escaped Deco?”
“Excuse me? I didn’t need to escape him because I’ve never even met the guy.” And teleport? Me?
The prince scowled. “This isn’t the time for lies. Come with me before it’s too late.” Wasting not a second, he snagged me by the wrist and dragged me through camp. Warriors jumped out of our way.
A range of emotions bubbled up, fury burning hotter than them all, a build up from the past two weeks. Heat built in my chest, spreading down my arms.
Inhale. Exhale. Ugh! My usual breathing exercises didn’t help.
Maybe if I confronted the newest problem directly. “The manhandling is unnecessary, Bodi. I’ve been a good little prisoner for two weeks! I’m sure Viktor will have something to say about this. He’s grown quite fond of me, I’m certain of it.”
“If it means he calms, I welcome a rebuke.”
So he had erupted again. Great. Just great.
Despite my fury with the prince, I didn’t fight him for two reasons. One, I figured he was escorting me straight to Viktor in order to smooth things out. And two, I was curious to know what this had to do with his former friend, Deco.
We wove through multiple tents and many clusters of weapon-wielding warriors preparing for some sort of battle. No one but me seemed to notice the scent of coffee in the air. My mouth watered.
“I could really use a cup of joe before our morning cool down with the big guy,” I said as sweetly as I could muster. Which was the angriest I’d spoken to another person in years. But come on! I’d bottled up so much lately, I might explode at any moment.
“You are the strangest creature,” Bodi muttered.
By the time we entered a mud hut at the far edge of the campsite, I had calmed enough that I didn’t want to drive my fists into his chest cavity. Progress mattered.
Going from sunlight to firelight, I needed a moment to adjust. At the same time, the heat inside me cooled as if it had never been. Which I didn’t understand.
When I spotted Viktor, I forgot everything else. He stood in back, panting hard, glaring down at the ground. He wore a ripped shirt and leathers. His arms hung at his sides, his crimson-soaked hands balled into fists. Icy rage blasted from him with the force of a sudden tempest.
My stomach churned with sickness. Around him, men–shifters?–lay on the floor in pieces. What happened?
“She is here, Majesty,” Bodi said in a soothing tone he might use with a crying newborn. He gave me a gentle push forward. “Look. Your sweet Clover is returned.”
The king’s head craned our way with inhuman speed. His glowing gold eyes lit on me. He blinked with surprise, and the glow faded, revealing some of that brilliant green. Then he frowned, puzzled. “I don’t understand. You are here with me, but you are also with him.”
“With Deco?” I willingly took a step closer. “Viktor, I told the truth. I’ve never met the guy.”
“How is this possible, then?” He stretched out his arm and opened his palm, revealing a ring with an opaque stone gracing the center. He shoved the piece down his index finger and from it sprang a…hologram? Whatever it was, the stone projected it, unveiling a smiling man with dark hair, a square jaw, and piercing amber eyes. He loomed behind the woman he imprisoned in front of him, his huge feathery wings solid gold. Though the woman blocked his chest, I knew he was shirtless because his arms were bare. Tattoos covered everything but his face.
This must be the infamous Deco.
“Why would Deco send his men to be slaughtered, all to get this into my hands and taunt me with your loss,” Viktor said, still in the grips of his befuddlement, “if you are here with me?”
My gaze landed on the woman, and I gasped, slammed by a bolt of pure shock. Impossible! And yet, I saw her with my own eyes. Or rather, me. I saw me. My doppelganger stood with her back pressed against the shifter’s chest, his big, clawed hand poised at her throat.
Trembling, I fluttered my hand to my mouth, but my doppelganger didn’t move. Like me, she had dark hair with hints of red. The same gray and brown irises. Same delicate yet defined bone structure, with the same single dimple in her left cheek. She wore a gilded gown that caught the light; the silk swirling around her feet like liquid gold.