Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 49027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49027 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 245(@200wpm)___ 196(@250wpm)___ 163(@300wpm)
Both daughter’s eyes bored into his, hopeful and pleading. When he closed his eyelids, unable to look at them, they knew his answer was “absolutely not.”
Enosabe stood so fast her chair flipped backward and hit the bluestone floor with a loud crash. She opened her mouth, her throat working as if she found it difficult to speak with all the emotions welling up inside. But when she did, her words sliced through his cold heart like a hot sword.
“You are my father! A titan! Act like it!” she hollered and stormed out of the room.
Boraleashe held in his pain. He was shattering inside, his soul slowly dying.
He stood to go after her, to comfort her the best he could, her reaction far from her usual composure to a dire situation. But this… his conceding to die… was too much even for his strongest to accept.
Kallos reached out and clutched his hand, the soft cuff of her silk sleeve grazing his skin. “Give her a minute to calm down. She’s upset, Father. We all are.”
Boraleashe’s few bites of his dinner were sour in his belly, his stomach clenching in an icy knot. It killed him to say what he did, but he couldn’t stick his head in the snow and wish the spiteful Snow Moon Demon wasn’t returning for him.
“I will have the elders arrange the coronation for you and your sister to be crowned titanesses and rulers of Tir an Amárach on morrow’s eve.”
“Father.” Kallos stood and went to the back of his chair and wrapped her strong arms around his neck. “No surrender, no retreat. Like you always taught us. If there’s no other way, then you make a fucking way.”
Boraleashe sat at the table alone long after they’d gone.
Boraleashe
The Real Threat
After dinner ended, Boraleashe didn’t see his daughters anymore, but he did speak to the lord of ceremonies, and everything was in place for the next moon. He had two days left, but he wanted to see his daughters’ made rulers. He could take that bit of peace with him into his final hours.
Early dusk settled over his kingdom while he walked across the grounds. He’d dismissed all the servants to be with their families so he could be alone with his last thoughts. His realm was eerily silent. There was no sound except for his boots crunching over hard-packed snow. He did all he could not to think of Theodor, to not send him an apology on his wind. It was best to cut all ties because if he received a response back from the king, even a minuscule taste of his warm wind would devastate him that much more. So, instead, Boraleashe walked until he was exhausted, until he was swaying on his feet from fatigue.
Back in his chambers, he was just conscious enough to remove his clothes and drop face-first onto the thick white-and-silver quilt on his bed. He left his bay windows open like always, preferring to listen to the snowfall and his wind as white noise. Boraleashe gazed at the skylights, marveling at the purplish sky, which was now more royal blue with the approach of the Snow Moon.
Boraleashe wasn’t afraid, only full of regret.
Despite how early in the evening it was, he was exhausted from his travels, but he was restless. Boraleashe flipped from one side of the bed to the other, burying himself under a mound of mink and sable furs, seeking peace, but nothing eased his mind. His soul cried out for what it missed, for what it needed… Theodor. Instead of continuing to fight the feelings, Boraleashe surrendered to it and allowed the comfort of those memories to lure him into a fitful slumber. It was only then Boraleashe closed his eyes with a long, contented sigh.
Just before he drifted off, a cool wind gently brushed his lips. “My dear king.”
Boraleashe was trapped in the throes of a dream—well, a nightmare. He was battling against a fierce blizzard that tried to bury Amárach under hundreds of feet of snow, trying to wipe his world from existence. He was alone, his guards and army all perished or buried alive. And no matter how hard he fought, the ice and sleet continued to beat him into submission. Boraleashe yelled and thrashed in his sleep, swinging his ice spear with all his might, fighting an enemy he had no chance of besting.
He tried to warn his people to flee, to run to safety… if there was anyone still alive. Boraleashe’s ears rang while he dug and clawed at the snow like a madman. A frightening shiver racked his body so hard he dropped his spear.
Boraleashe jerked upright in bed, clutching the side of his head. Why were his ears still ringing? He was discombobulated when several of his elite guards and his viceroy stormed into his chambers. It was then that Boraleashe realized that his ears weren’t ringing. It was the bell tower in the guard’s watch station. His territory was really under attack.