Total pages in book: 218
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 205594 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1028(@200wpm)___ 822(@250wpm)___ 685(@300wpm)
With a terrified squeak, I turn and head back towards my people. I remember Erynne’s words. After you go into the tower, Lionel’s ships are going to sail for Darkfell. And if their person has a way to get information from outside, they might come seeking revenge on you.
Do they know Lionel and his army are waiting to sail even now? Biting my lip, I head back to my group, where the knights stand on shore, watching everything with bored expressions. Part of me wants to tell them that I just saw Darkfell’s people, but it seems a foolish thing to report on. Of course I saw them. They’re here to deliver their Royal Offering to the tower, just as we are.
The massive sled is finally loaded, and several men take it by rope pulls and drag it towards the main door. I follow behind them, frowning at the mountain of crates and barrels loaded atop it. “You do know I won’t be able to pull that into the tower on my own?”
The knight next to me considers, rubbing his bearded chin. “We’ll get it up to the door and push it through. Once it’s inside, you can unload it slowly at your leisure. Unless you’d like to leave some of this behind?”
“No, I want it all,” I reply, trying not to scowl. I guess I won’t have much to do except unload things. The trunks will be heavy, though. Maybe my room isn’t at the top of the tower. Has no one ever thought about the logistics of this? It’s simply ridiculous. My maids packed me dozens of dresses, as that’s what’s required in court, but standing here on the beach, I’m tired just looking at the sheer mass of trunks that I’ll have to put away.
That’s a problem for another day, though.
I watch in silence as the heavily loaded sled is brought to the heavy double doors. They’re pulled open with a mighty creak, the hinges rusty, and the interior of the tower is pitch black—I can see nothing inside. It’s like a tomb. I look around for the Darkfell party but I don’t see them on the beach. Perhaps they’ve already come and gone and their sacrifice waits within. I touch the bodice of my dress where my knife is hidden, glad that Erynne sent it with me. She’s far more suited for this sort of thing than me. I’m the court flirt, not the one to handle intrigue.
I’m certainly not pious, like Meryliese must have been.
The priests begin their songs to the Golden Moon Goddess, and I know I should pay attention. Instead, I watch, fascinated, as the workmen shove my sled up to the door and then push it deep inside with a loud scrape upon the stone floors. One of them pushes too hard and his hand disappears in after the sled, swallowed up by the shadows. He immediately cries out in distress and pulls back, clutching his hand to his chest. “It burns!”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the knight accompanying me snaps. He casts me an uneasy look. “It’s just shadow.”
I say nothing. The priests continue on with their prayers, burning incense to the goddess and as I watch, an acolyte sacrifices a bird, pulling it from a cage and cutting it open from breast to tail. The blood carries on the wind, flecking the face of the knight at my side, as if reminding me what horrors await me inside.
“Come, my princess,” he says, taking me gently by the elbow. “It’s time.”
Now? Already? “Surely the priests have more prayers,” I babble, trying to pull free from his grasp. I’m not ready yet. The sun hasn’t gone down, and that means the golden moon has a few hours before it rises. I have time, don’t I? “I’m sure they have yet another song to sing.”
“My princess,” the knight says again, his voice kind. “Do not make me carry you.”
Dragon shite. Panicked, I let him pull me forward, casting another mute look of distress at the priests. They give me pitying looks, their gazes straying up to the tower. We move towards the yawning darkness of those double doors, and even the wind seems to die in anticipation of my entombment.
“Please,” I whisper to the knight. “Please don’t make me go.”
“I must,” he says. “The king wishes for me to ensure that you are placed safely inside.”
Lionel knows I want to run. A hot bubble of panic rises in my throat as we pass by the man seated next to the bricks, waiting to seal the door behind me. “Please,” I say again as we move to the threshold. I grab the doorjamb and try to brace myself. “Please don’t do this. I can escape. No one has to know—”
The knight pries my hand off the frame of the door and shoves me inside. Hard. I tumble to the floor next to the heavy sled of trunks, and before I can sit up, the double doors creak closed behind me.