Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1185(@200wpm)___ 948(@250wpm)___ 790(@300wpm)
And I had to get out of here. Which meant I couldn’t lose it. I had to keep my senses sharp because my time was limited. I felt that in my bones. So, I forced my eyes open.
And saw nothing.
Only deep, dark utter nothingness. Pressure rose to settle on my chest. I swallowed to take a deep breath—
Something tightened around my throat.
Icy fear punched into my chest as I lifted a shaking hand to my neck. My fingers met a thin, cool metal band at the base of my throat, below my pulse. I dragged my fingers across it, finding a thick hook in the center, and….
A chain.
Panic exploded as I gripped the chain, jerking up so fast my heart seemed to whoosh and then stutter. Dizziness swept through me. Hands trembling, I pulled weakly on the chain, jumping at the loud rattle it made against what sounded to be stone floors. The length was long, and no matter how much I pulled, the chain met no resistance, but that didn’t fill me with any sort of relief.
Because there was a godsdamn shackle around my neck.
The pressure continued tightening around my chest as I struggled to control my breathing and not let the panic take complete hold. But I was chained, and—
Lights flooded the space, sharp and bright.
Blinded, I threw up a hand to shield my stinging eyes, dropping the chain. It clanged off the floor, hurting my ears.
“You’re awake.”
The voice.
It wasn’t Attes or Kolis, but it was familiar.
“You’ve been out for two days,” the male added.
My chest seized. Two days? Had I gone into another stasis and somehow survived?
“We were beginning to worry,” he said with a laugh. “Attes wasn’t supposed to hit you that hard, but he’s…as some would say—and that some being me—all looks and little thought.”
Slowly, I lowered my hand and blinked open watering eyes. The first thing I saw was the golden, shimmery swirls on my right hand. The imprint. The comfort that brought vanished as I lifted my gaze.
I went cold inside.
Numb at what I saw.
Gold bars spaced about half a foot apart. A cage. A gilded cage. Horror clawed its way through me, leaving me frozen, hand still half-raised.
“He should’ve been more careful. After all, you are technically just a mortal. Isn’t that correct?” he continued. “Not a god on the verge of their Culling. Not even a godling. But a mortal with embers of life inside them.”
A tremor started deep in my chest, where the embers remained unnervingly quiet. I turned, my gaze flickering over chests of varying sizes, a round table, a chair, a gold-toned divan, and a thick rug of fur. All items in the cage with me.
Then I saw him.
Golden hair.
Golden mask.
Pale blue eyes lit by the faintest wisps of eather. Eyes I had believed belonged to a god. But Dyses had the same eyes, and he was something else entirely.
A Revenant.
I’d seen this male in Dalos, only a bit of his profile. He’d been in the hall, waiting for Davon. But that wasn’t the first time I’d seen him.
I’d seen him in the mortal realm, in my kingdom, and that was why the gold-painted wings had kept striking a chord of familiarity. He’d been at Wayfair, speaking with my mother. Ezra had told me his name.
Callum.
He stood a few feet on the other side of the cage, but it was the only other thing in the space that occupied the otherwise dark chamber that caught my attention. A single elaborate, gold-adorned chair.
A throne.
Bile rose, and I choked it back as I lowered my hand to the soft blanket on the bed I lay on.
The same taunting, half-formed grin I’d seen that day at Wayfair appeared now. “Hello, Seraphena Mierel. It is so lovely to see you again.” His head tilted, and he smiled, causing the edges of the painted wings to lift across his cheeks and above his brows. “Do you remember me?”
“Did the…” I cleared my throat, wincing as the band momentarily tightened. “Was the attack stopped?”
“Attes gave you his vow. Kyn’s forces pulled back.” His head straightened as I glanced down at the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, and the dagger secured to his thigh. He’d gotten rid of most of the golden attire. Only the embroidered tunic was the sunny color. The pants were dark. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I remember you.” My fingers dug into the blanket as I steadied myself, lowering my feet to the floor—my bare feet.
I looked down, and this time, I flashed hot before going cold again as I saw gold. I no longer wore my pants or even my shirt and vest. I wore a golden sheath of nearly sheer, gossamer fabric.
“You were covered in filth and stank of the Shadowlands and the Primal there,” Callum explained.