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)
Thunder crackles overhead, loud and booming enough to make me jump. It’s as if the gods are reminding me that I’m at their mercy. Figures. It’s the first storm I’ve heard since arriving, violent enough to make the walls shiver each time the thunder peals and lightning strikes. Rain hammers on the tower, violent and furious, and it seems like fate when something wet drips onto my forehead.
Because of course the tower would have a leak.
The goddess really isn’t making me warm up to the idea of being her sacrifice, I grumble to myself as I drag my bed frame out of the way. Once it’s moved, I can hear the plip plip plip of the water dripping down from the floor above. Lightning crashes again, so loud that it shakes the tower itself. “Yes, yes,” I mutter aloud at the displeasure of the gods. “I’m staying. Don’t worry.”
I pick up my dress, intending to slip it over my head and lace it up, then head upstairs to check out the leak. The moment I do, though, I toss the dress back down. Does it matter if I wander about the tower in nothing but my filmy chemise? It’s not as if there’s anyone to see except Nemeth, and he’s already seen everything.
Even though it pains me, I light one of my precious candles and lift it in the air, heading out to the landing and towards the steps to the third floor. Thunder crackles overhead, booming and startling me with the severity of it. It’s the season of storms, so I’m not all that surprised. They’ll shower down for a month, and then it’s harvest time, and then come the snows.
After the thunder dies down, though, I hear something downstairs. It sounds like something hitting the wall, a soft thump that isn’t made by the storm itself. I imagine Nemeth falling down the stairs below, or the storm shaking loose a brick and it landing on his head. I imagine him lying on the floor, broken and bloodied, and when the strange, soft thump occurs again, my curiosity gets the better of me.
Instead of heading upstairs, I go down to the floor below.
Nemeth’s door is closed. Another round of thunder rumbles, the stone walls practically shaking, and then I hear a crash from within. I move to his door and knock. “Everything all right in there?”
The door whips open to reveal a wild-eyed Fellian. Behind him, I catch a glimpse of crowded shelves, full of books and supplies. Before I have a chance to catch more than a quick look, Nemeth focuses stark eyes on me and then tugs me into his quarters. “Good, a hostage.”
A…what?
Chapter
Eighteen
My candle sputters as I surge forward into Nemeth’s room. He looks crazed, eyeing the walls with what looks like anger or resentment.
I’m confused. “What’s going on?”
“They are attacking the tower,” he says, grabbing me by my shoulders and eyeing the walls. “I have never heard such a din. Do they mean to tear it apart and pull us from the rubble?”
Thunder crashes overhead again and he jerks, his wings flicking out and extending in what must be a reflexing action. He pulls me against him, his claws twisting in the voluminous folds of my chemise.
Is this big Fellian warrior…afraid of thunder? Surely I am misunderstanding him. “You do know that’s a storm, right?”
His wild gaze focuses on me. “What?”
I open my mouth to speak and it thunders again. His grip tightens on me, his gaze going to the ceiling. Aw. “It’s a storm,” I say gently. “A thunderstorm. A loud one, granted, but still a thunderstorm. We’re entering the season of storms. Do you not have that where you live?”
In the light of my candle, I see his thick gray throat work. “You…this is normal? We are not being attacked?”
“It’s a very loud storm but no, we are not being attacked.”
The rain pounds against the stone walls and he flinches. He doesn’t let go of me, either.
I’m acutely aware of my candle burning, and I know I have to save it, but I also don’t want to abandon Nemeth when he’s clearly feeling vulnerable and doing his best to hide it. “If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll stay here as your hostage until it stops, all right?”
His gaze focuses on me. “You would…do that?”
“I have the time,” I tell him with a wry smile. I blow out my candle and then hold my hand out to him.
Absolute darkness falls once more, but his green eyes blink at me. “You want to sit in the dark?”
“I’m being conservative with my candles,” I lie. He doesn’t need to know that I’m down to two. “Where do you want to sit?”
He makes a sound in his throat and takes my hand in his larger one. A Fellian’s hands are massive, I realize. It’s like an enormous paw swallowing mine as he holds my fingers. Nemeth leads me forward a step or two, and then my leg bumps into a bed frame.