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)
I bit down on my lip, my grip on the mortar tightening.
“I won’t hold it against you,” she said softly. “Whatever the answer is, I will not blame you.”
“You promise?”
“Of course,” she swore.
“Okay,” I said, hoping she spoke the truth. Naomi wasn’t a projector, meaning she didn’t broadcast her thoughts and intentions like so many did, making them far too easy to read.
But I could get inside her mind if I wanted to and find out if she spoke the truth. All I would need to do was open my senses to her and allow that connection to snap to life.
I didn’t do that when I could help it. It was too much of an invasion. A violation. However, knowing that hadn’t stopped me from doing it when it benefited me, had it?
Shoving that little truth aside, I drew in a breath that tasted of the chamomile as I set the bowl on a small table. “Give me your hand.”
Naomi didn’t hesitate then, lifting her hand, but I did, because it was so rare for my hand to touch others’ flesh without their intentions, and sometimes even their futures, becoming known to me. The only way I could touch another lowborn was to dull my senses, usually through alcohol or some other substance, and, well, that dulled everything else too and didn’t last very long, so there really was no point.
I wrapped my hand around hers, wanting to take just a brief second to simply enjoy the feeling. Most didn’t realize there was a world of difference between being touched and touching. But this wasn’t about me. I couldn’t take that second, because the longer I held Naomi’s hand, the more likely it was that I would end up seeing things about her she might not want to know or want me to learn. No amount of humming or keeping my mind active would stop that.
Quieting my mind, I opened my senses and then closed my eyes. A second passed, and another; then a series of tingles erupted between my shoulder blades and spread up, over the back of my skull. In the darkness of my mind, I began to see the hazy form of Naomi’s face, but I shut that down.
“Ask the question again,” I instructed, because it would help me focus on only what she wanted to know and not everything else that was taking shape and forming words.
“Will Laurelin recover from her fever?” Naomi said in a voice barely above a whisper.
There was silence in my mind, and then I heard what sounded like my own voice whisper, She will recover.
A shudder of relief went through me, but my skin quickly chilled. The voice continued to whisper. Releasing Naomi’s hand, I opened my eyes.
Naomi had gone still, her hand suspended in air. “What did you see?”
“She’ll recover from the fever,” I shared.
Her throat worked on a delicate swallow. “Really?”
“Yes.” I smiled, but it felt brittle.
“Oh, thank the gods,” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her mouth. “Thank you.”
Now my smile was a grimace as I looked away. I cleared my throat, picking up the bowl. I barely felt the cool ceramic.
“Has Claude been having trouble sleeping again?” Naomi asked after a handful of moments, her voice lighter than it had been when she walked into the chamber.
Thankful for the change of subject, I nodded. “He wants to be rested for the upcoming Feasts.”
Naomi’s brows rose. “The Feasts don’t start for several more weeks— at least a month or so.”
I glanced at her. “He wants to be well rested.”
Naomi snorted. “He must be quite excited.” Leaning back, she toyed with a sapphire hanging from a thin silver necklace she almost always wore. “And what about you? You excited?”
I lifted a shoulder as my stomach tumbled a bit. “Haven’t really thought about it.”
“But this will be your first Feasts, right?”
“Yep.” It was the first year I was eligible to attend, as one must be twenty-two years of age or married, which made little sense to me, but it was the Hyhborn and King Euros who made the rules, not me.
“You are in for . . . quite the show,” she said slowly.
I snickered, having heard the stories.
She tipped toward me once more, her voice lowering. “But will you be partaking in the . . . in the festivities?”
“Festivities.” I laughed. “What a tame description.”
She grinned. “What else would I call it?”
“An orgy?”
Tipping her head back, she laughed, and it was such a lovely, infectious sound. Naomi had the best laugh, causing a grin to tug at my own lips. “That’s not what happens,” she said.
“Really?” I stated dryly.
Naomi feigned a look of innocence, which was rather impressive considering there was little about her that could be called innocent. “The Feasts serve as a way for the Hyhborn to reaffirm their commitment to serving lowborn by sharing their wealth of food and drink.” She recited the doctrine as well as any prioress would as she folded her hands demurely in her lap. “Sometimes a lot of drink flows, and with the Hyhborn around, certain activities may occur. That is all.”