Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“I would have—”
“Denied it.” My own voice rises, my temper loosening. “If I had told you that the heir to Ybaris is now also a key caster, allied with Islor’s exiled king—who lost his kingdom to protect her—and she is guided by our own scribes in hopes of repairing the harm that the fates and Queen Neilina have brought to our lands, what would you, a Prime whose only concern is remaining Prime, have done?”
Her nostrils flare.
“Queen Neilina got what she deserved.” I brace for another round of ice daggers as I add, “The only reason you care is because the new queen will not allow you to keep that ring for your part in this.”
The Prime’s hand balls into a fist. “The princess died months ago. The heir to Ybaris is Prince Tyree,” she says through a hiss.
“And where is he right now?” Dead, likely, and she knows it.
“That does not matter. Mordain will recognize no one else.”
“Really? Does your entire council feel the same way?” I study their faces, and I see a multitude of expressions.
“I speak for Mordain!” The Prime shouts, all semblance of control whittled away with my accusations.
The doors swing open then.
I gasp as two prisoners are half dragged, half carried in, their clothes soiled with sweat stains but, surprisingly, no blood. The one on the left, wearing a plain brown gown much like Agatha’s, stares at me through empty eyes. That must be Zaleria.
What has the Prime done to them to leave them like this?
A third—a young man in his late teens with tawny skin—is ushered in last, walking on his own and coherent. Terror-filled, sage-green eyes rake over the council of hostile faces. When they land on me, there’s instant recognition, and then confusion and guilt and a flinch of … betrayal, is it?
“It took some time and careful questioning before the casters divulged useful information, but they’ve been most cooperative since.” The Prime’s composure has returned. “The biggest surprise discovered was your dear budding scribe, Cahill.”
That name. This is the boy I’m supposed to bring back to Ulysede, the one very dear to Agatha.
The Prime tsks as she dangles a silver pendant in the air. “Hiding a male elemental caster right here in Nyos beneath our noses.”
Cries sound around the room. Clearly, this was a well-kept secret.
I struggle to hide my shock. Why didn’t Agatha warn me?
The Prime glares at the boy. “What do you have to say for yourself, Cahill?”
“I didn’t know, Prime …,” he stammers. “I swear it!”
The slightest movement catches my eye, a black cloak behind a pillar in the far corner. Solange has found her way in. And good timing, because my gut says things are about to implode.
“See? Caster Agatha didn’t even tell him! Will we ever get to the bottom of all your deceptions?” The Prime paces around the two hunched bodies, held up by the Shadows who brought them in. Neither show any clue that they know where they are or what’s happening. “Do not worry, his powers are useless to him here, not that he has any clue how to use them. I was going to execute him with these two, but he can serve a purpose still. He will give us a weapon to fight against the impostor queen.”
I realize instantly what she means. “You’re going to breed him.” She’s going to use the poor guy as a stud horse like they did to Caster Yason.
“And you were not?” she retorts with a scoff. “You planned on hiding a second key caster in case yours didn’t support your fantastical prophecies.”
“I did not,” I deny, though honestly, I have no idea what the wily old scribe intended with Cahill. Maybe that’s exactly what she planned all along.
“You and Gesine.” She practically spits her name. “I should have known that an elemental more interested in silly tales would prove dangerous. Wait until I get my hands on her, I will light the pyre myself—”
A thread of air leaps up and out of me, slamming into the Prime. She flies backward, colliding with a pillar before collapsing to the floor, unconscious.
The Masters stare at me—a silver-eyed scribe who can barely create a flame—with shock that will no doubt swing to suspicion, then reaction, in seconds.
I guess this charade is over. I arm myself with all four affinities, forming a shell of air that I pray these casters can’t break through.
“Shadows, hold!” Solange appears from behind a pillar, her mask and cloak removed. Somehow, she looks even more fierce.
Gasps sound around the table, all startled to discover their Second lurking, unseen.
She uses that moment to our advantage. “Shadow Fatima, secure them so they may not do something unwise.”
The girl’s eyes glow a brilliant green.
I frown as I try to figure out what she has done. It takes a few seconds to notice that the Masters haven’t so much as twitched. It’s as if they’re frozen in place.