Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 850(@200wpm)___ 680(@250wpm)___ 566(@300wpm)
I wonder what stories Barnabus and Magpie are telling about me. I’m sure they’re painting me as the villain of the tale. In a way, it does look bad, and without me there to explain properly the reasons behind my theft, I seem spoiled and greedy. No one is going to take my side, especially if they don’t hear my half of the tale.
Time passes. Eighteen days in agonizing slowness. There is no boredom quite like sitting and staring out a window, waiting for your fate. At times, I just want them to get on with it. To sentence me and be done.
Or perhaps I’ve already been judged and this is the punishment? Death by boredom?
On the morning of the nineteenth day, the door to my small room opens. I jump to my feet, hoping against hope that it’s Hawk. That he’s come to free me. That love shines in his eyes and I haven’t been forgotten.
I’m a little disappointed when Lark, Kipp, Mereden, and Gwenna come through. But only a little. Then I squeal with happiness and fling myself forward, hugging each one of them. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Gods, you smell,” Lark says after she hugs me. She fans her face, grimacing. “Don’t they bathe you up here?”
“No luxury baths for prisoners, I’m afraid,” I tease, not hurt by her words. Lark has always been the first to say exactly what she’s thinking. And I’m positive I do smell. I’ve been washing myself with bits of extra water to keep the grime off my skin, but my hair is filthy and I’m wearing the same tattered clothing I wore prior to the cave-in, and there’s been no washing for them. A terrible thought occurs to me. “Have you all been arrested, too?”
Mereden shakes her head. “No, we’re to be tried together as a Five. That’s why we’re here. We’re meeting before the guild masters shortly.”
We are? Oh gods. I touch my messy hair and torn clothing and grimace. “Someone help me clean up?”
Kipp slithers free of his house—a new one, I see, with the piece of old shell affixed to the back with leather stitching through a few purposeful holes—and holds out a comb. A moment later, he pulls a fresh chemise from his shell and a bundled guild coat.
“You are a wonder,” I tell him, and he gives me a lizard-like wink. I think.
They help me get ready, with Gwenna braiding my wrecked hair into a tight bun at the base of my neck. The new jacket fits a little tight but it’s clean and I don’t feel like a gutter-goblin at least. I straighten and put on my best lord-holder’s-daughter demeanor. If nothing else, I did what I did out of duty. No holder would find me guilty. They would understand.
We’re marched down the tower stairs and across the great, sweeping halls of the guild’s network of buildings. Everyone seems to be in their best livery, and the halls are crawling with people. It’s strange to see, though I don’t let my confusion show on my face. When another guild master rushes by with his sash heavy and clinking with pins, Mereden links her arm with mine and leans in, as if we’re two ladies on a jaunt instead of a prisoner and her co-conspirator. “The king is here.”
I lose my composure and jerk to stare at her. “What? He is?”
She nods, her expression serene. “Guild law apparently states that a dispute with holder nobility requires a royal decision.”
Gods. This is worse than I thought.
“Courage,” Mereden tells me, and gives my arm a squeeze. “I’ve sent a letter to my father stating that if we’re all kicked out of the guild, I will insist you go with me to the Convent of Divine Silence. No one will touch you on holy ground.”
I manage a weak smile. So I won’t die instantly. I’ll just die slowly at the convent. Lovely. But I appreciate that Mereden is trying to save me. I just don’t know what I’ll do without Hawk. At some point in all of this, he’s become more important than the guild. More important than anything.
And Magpie is his boss. Ugh.
We’re led into what looks like a courtroom, with several benches along the walls. Instead of the judge’s seat, there’s a large throne, and upon it sits a middle-aged blob in colorful clothing. I squint to see that the king is balding and has a sour expression on his face. Goody. He wears a thin circlet over his brow and his sleeves are encrusted with jewels, showing both fashion and wealth. His heavy necklace has three thick medallions upon it, and something tells me that if I could see more than blobs, they’d probably have Prellian runes on them.
I’ve only met the king once or twice in my life, but the look on his face doesn’t bode well.