Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Dar stirred behind her, his breath brushing her ear. His arm tightened instinctively, drawing her closer before he fully woke. Elara felt the slight jolt of awareness go through him, the sudden stillness in his body. A tense beat. A moment suspended.
Then, quietly, low and rough from sleep, he said, “You’re awake.”
“Aye,” she whispered, wishing her voice didn’t tremble so lightly.
He did not release her. If anything, his arm loosened only enough to be gentle… not enough to let her go. He moved his head, his breath warming her shoulder. His chest pressed to her back. And Elara felt her pulse flutter wildly, traitorously.
“This wasn’t my intent,” he murmured, his voice a mix of caution and truth.
“I know,” she said softly. And she did. For all the turmoil between them, last night had been exhaustion and fear, not desire. She had simply fallen asleep… and he had taken his place beside her as he said he would.
Still, now… lying there… it felt far too easy to remain.
He slowly withdrew his arm, giving her the space she hadn’t asked for but needed. Cold rushed in where his warmth left, and she hated how her body noticed.
Before either of them could speak, a sharp pounding struck the chamber door.
“Commander Dar!” a guard’s voice shouted through the wood. “By order of the king, you and your wife are summoned to his chamber at once.”
Dar exhaled and the softness between them shattered. “The king rises early.”
“Perhaps he never sleeps,” Elara murmured, sitting up.
The pounding came again.
“Now, Commander!”
Dar’s jaw tightened, irritation flaring in his eyes as he called out, “A moment.”
He swung out of the bed and crossed to the washbasin, splashing cold water over his face and running his fingers through his hair before reaching for his leather vest lying on a chair and slipping it over his shirt to tie at the sides.
Elara followed, though she straightened her garments, disheveled from sleeping in them before splashing her face with water and wishing she had time to freshen herself properly. Their eyes met for a fleeting, cautious moment, but no words were spoken, and she looked away first.
A sharp, impatient knock sounded.
Dar opened the door to find two guards waiting, their expressions severe.
“The king does not like to be kept waiting,” one said.
“Lead the way,” Dar snapped as if impatient himself.
He reached for Elara’s hand out of instinct. or perhaps duty, and she didn’t hesitate, not even for a heartbeat, before letting her fingers slide into his. His hand closed around hers, warm, strong, comforting in a way she had come to expect and, if she would admit, she looked forward to.
They were escorted through torch-lit corridors where banners hung still, the early dawn yet to stir the air. The closer they drew to the king’s chambers, the colder the stones beneath their boots seemed to grow.
Elara’s pulse quickened. Whatever awaited them beyond those heavy carved doors… it would not be simple, nor kind, nor without consequence.
The guards halted and reached out to open the two doors.
Dar’s grip tightened around her hand, and he whispered, “Whatever happens… stay beside me.”
She nodded once, her breath unsteady.
Then the doors opened, and together they crossed the threshold into the king’s chamber.
King Dravic stood beside Adira, his imposing frame rigid, his dark green brocade catching the morning light that filtered through the tall windows. His icy gaze shifted briefly to Elara and Dar as they entered, but he said nothing, merely waited for them to stand where he pointed.
Adira sat in a carved wooden chair at a small table draped with a deep burgundy cloth. She hunched slightly, her wounded arm cradled protectively against her chest, her braid falling over her shoulder like a dull flame. Her wide green eyes darted between those in the chamber, uncertain and frightened, but she remained still, sensing the king’s power.
Feena sat rigid beside her, keeping her old hands folded tightly in her lap and her lips pressed together as though fearing to utter a wrong word. The numerous lines around her mouth and eyes seemed etched deeper this morning, weighted by worry and fear.
Tavish stood off to one side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, while Muir hovered behind him, shifting restlessly as though awaiting the king’s command.
King Dravic did not speak immediately. His eyes traveled slowly over Elara and Dar, lingering on their joined hands, the sight seeming to both irritate and disinterest him at once. When he finally addressed the room, his voice held the same cold authority that had filled the hall the previous day.
“Feena,” he said, his tone brooking no hesitation, “remove the bandage.”
Feena swallowed hard. Her gaze went to Adira, then to Elara, then back to the king. At last, she nodded and reached with trembling fingers to unwind the linen strip from Adira’s arm. Each fold loosened seemed to echo in the oppressive silence of the chamber. Adira flinched at the first tug, her breath shuddering, though she tried to remain brave.