Total pages in book: 239
Estimated words: 224443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 898(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 224443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1122(@200wpm)___ 898(@250wpm)___ 748(@300wpm)
I’ll be watching.
An icy shiver danced across the nape of my neck. It was also him. The god whose name I didn’t know. It had taken a good week for me to fully accept that I had, in fact, threatened a god. And kissed one. Had enjoyed being kissed by him. But what I couldn’t figure out was the lingering memory of rightness when I’d been around him. A feeling that still made no sense, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he watched as I moved about the streets of Carsodonia. And some incredibly idiotic, reckless, and disturbed part of me…anticipated crossing paths with him again. I wanted to know why he’d kissed me. There’d been other ways to hide and disguise ourselves, like moving farther away from the other gods for starters.
My focus shifted to the closed door. “I don’t know. I’m just in a weird mood.”
Sir Holland approached, handing the dagger to me. “You sure that’s all?”
I nodded.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Sir Holland—”
“I don’t,” he insisted. “Do you know why we still practice every day?”
My grip tightened on the dagger as everything I wanted to say started to bubble up in me. “Honest? I don’t know why we do this.”
His brows flew up. “That was a rhetorical question, Sera.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be,” I shot back. “What is the point?”
Shock splashed across his face. “The point? The lives—”
“Of everyone in Lasania depend on me ending the Rot,” I interrupted. “I know that. I’ve lived that since birth. And it’s all I can think about every time I see the Rot spreading through farm after farm. Every day that it doesn’t rain, and the sun continues scorching crops, and every time I think about what winter might bring, I think of all those lives.” I inhaled sharply but didn’t hold it as he’d taught me. There was no space for air. “I think about it every time someone takes one of our ships or there are rumors of another siege. All I think about when I’m trying to sleep or eat or am doing anything is how I was the Maiden and found unworthy by the Primal of Death.”
“You’re not unworthy. You’re not a curse or anything like that. You carry the ember of life in you. You carry hope within you. You carry the possibility of a future,” he said. “You don’t know what the Primal of Death thinks.”
“How could he not think that?” I shot back.
Sir Holland shook his head. “What is happening with the Rot is not your fault.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity. Some people believed the Primals were angry, and the Rot was a sign of their wrath. That had led to the Temples filling with worshippers, and blame being cast on everything from failed marriages to false icons. They were close to the truth without realizing that others believed the fault should be placed on the Crown. That nothing had been done to plan for worsening weather and soil. And they too were correct. The Crown had placed all their eggs in one basket, and that basket had been me. Now, the Crown had begun stockpiling goods that could be dried or canned, and had decreed that hardier crops be planted. They’d attempted to establish alliances, and while none had ended as poorly as the one with the Vodina Isles had, no other kingdom wanted to be saddled with one that couldn’t feed its residents.
I could count on one hand how many people knew that Lasania was doomed. The agreement King Roderick had struck had come with a time limit. I hadn’t only been promised to a Primal. My birth was a sign that the deal had run its course. And even if the Primal of Death had taken me, Lasania would continue on its path to destruction.
I ran a finger across the blade. A god could be killed if their brain or heart were destroyed by shadowstone. And paralyzed by it if the blade were left in their body. But a Primal was different. Destroying their heart and/or brain would only injure them, not kill them. It would weaken them but not enough to make them truly vulnerable to shadowstone.
But they could be killed.
By love.
Make him fall in love, become his weakness, and end him.
That was what I’d spent my entire life preparing to do. I had become skilled with the dagger, sword, and bow, and I could protect myself if it came to hand-to-hand combat. I had been instructed in how to behave in a manner believed to be appealing to the Primal once he claimed me, and the Mistresses of the Jade had taught me that the most dangerous weapon wasn’t a violent one. I’d been ready to make him fall in love with me. To become his weakness and then kill him.