Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 763(@200wpm)___ 610(@250wpm)___ 509(@300wpm)
But do you really want to stop him from coming? that annoying voice whispered.
“Yes,” I hissed, toeing off my shoes. I crossed the antechamber, my bare feet sinking into the soft area rug as I went to the small credenza and poured myself a half shot of whiskey. The liquor was the best Archwood had to offer, mellow and smooth with the barest taste of alcohol. Or so everyone said. I could still taste the bite of liquor, but I downed the whiskey, lips peeling back against the burn.
It did little to calm my nerves, and I poured myself another half shot and brought it with me as I walked to the window. I looked past the golden sōls dancing in the night sky.
By the time the Feasts were in full swing, the Prince’s armies would be at Archwood. Then, how long before the Iron Knights made their way here? It took no leap of logic to assume that the act had more to do with the importance of the port and the Hyhborn Court seated just beyond than it did with the people who called Archwood home.
I rested my cheek against the window, thinking of what the people of Archwood would think once they saw the Hyhborn forces. Once they learned of the Westlands threat? The fear and dread would be palpable. I swallowed the whiskey, welcoming the bite this time. The aristo would likely abandon the city until the threat had passed. Many had families in other cities and the means with which to travel there. But the poorest among the Archwood— the miners and dockworkers, the laborers? Everyone who kept the city and the ports open and running? There’d be no easy escape for them. They’d have to ride it out—
I felt the sudden shifting in the chamber. Tiny hairs along the nape of my neck rose as a charge hit the air. A clicking noise sent a shiver over my skin— the distinctive sound of a lock.
Heart thudding, I slowly turned to the door. There was no way. I lowered the empty glass to my side.
The door swung open and he stood there, legs planted wide and shoulders squared, hair swept back from his striking features and knotted. The armor still shielding his chest. He looked like a warrior, and one thing became clear.
Prince Thorne had come to conquer.
CHAPTER 25
Prince Thorne crossed the threshold, the light of my chamber glinting off the golden hilt of the dagger strapped to his chest.
I didn’t think. I should have, but I simply reacted.
I threw the glass at the Prince of Vytrus.
In the brief seconds following the glass leaving my hand, I realized I’d had no idea of how reckless, how idiotic I truly was until that very moment.
The glass stopped in midair, several feet from the Prince.
I sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening.
“Na’laa,” Prince Thorne rumbled softly, the blue of his eyes a brilliant shade. The glass shattered into nothing— absolutely nothing. Not even tiny shards remained. It was simply obliterated.
I took an unsteady step back.
He smiled, and I shivered like any prey would upon realizing they’d not only come face-to-face with a honed predator but had taunted them. “You have a very good arm on you,” he said. “Though, I would’ve preferred to discover that in a way that didn’t involve an object being thrown at my head.”
My heart thumped so fast I feared I might be sick. “I . . . I didn’t mean to do that.”
“Really?” he drawled.
Swallowing, I nodded. “The glass slipped from my fingers.”
An eyebrow rose. “Slipped all the way across the room?”
“You startled me,” I argued, fully realizing how ridiculous my excuse was. “I wasn’t expecting someone to unlock the door and barge in. Though, I should have. You do have a habit of such.”
“You know very little of what habits I have.” One side of his lips tipped. “But I do know you have a habit of lying, which I do enjoy immensely.”
I stiffened. “I beg to differ. I know of at least two habits. Barging into places you’re not invited and insisting upon insulting my honor each time you see me.”
“How is it an insult to your honor when it’s truth?” he countered. “Perhaps you dishonor yourself by lying.”
My chest rose as anger lanced through me. “Why are you here, Your Grace?”
“We have an arrangement.”
“We do not, but that’s not the point. I have a headache.”
“Yes, one that is six feet and seven inches in shape?”
I gaped. “It was not I who said that.”
“I know. Those were Lord Bastian’s words.” He glanced around the room, gaze skipping over my shoes and the uncorked bottle of whiskey. “He always likes to shave an inch from my height so that I’m not taller than him.”
My brow creased; then I gave a small shake of my head. “Be that as it may, I still have a headache and I’m not feeling up to company this evening.”