Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
“We really must stop meeting like this,” she called.
“Trust me,” he responded with equal nonchalance. “That is the plan.”
A threat. “Kill him, Graves,” she commanded, glaring at the male she despised with the whole of her being.
Micah glared right back, even while issuing a command to his men. “Hold until my signal.”
Graves’s strain intensified, but he didn’t move. “Mother. Father. Not fight.” The stilted accent was more mist than substance, but each word packed a formidable punch.
He’d found his voice so soon? As only Drendall had done? But how was that even possible? And what did he mean, father?
When Viori had referred to Micah as the boy’s stepfather, she’d meant to taunt the king, nothing more. “He’s not—” she began.
At the same time Micah belted out, “I’m not—”
Going quiet, they glowered at each other. Then he raised his axes, as if ready to chop her baby to pieces. Would Graves fight back? With his confusion about the king’s role in his life... He might not.
Not knowing what else to do, she announced, “Let Graves go, and I’ll stay.” A promise she would keep—until her child was safe. Then... Viori smiled. Then she’d let the acid in her heart spill out, pouring over Micah and his land. For her children. For Kaysar.
For herself.
Micah smirked up at her. “Wife, you’ll stay, anyway. This, I promise you.”
Was that so? “Do you hear this?” she demanded of Graves. “He threatens me. Do as you’re told and kill him.”
“No,” her darling spit, reminding her of a petulant child. He shook his head no, proving his will was somehow stronger than hers.
That her own creation had dared to naysay her—what did it mean? This was only the second time in Viori’s life that a created being had refused to obey her slightest whim. First Fifibelle, now Graves.
Her mouth floundered open and closed. This boy could not be an extension of her. What was she even supposed to do right now? “You listen to me right now, young man. I told you to attack—”
“I. Said. No!” Graves drew back an arm and tossed her. Her! He flung her across the entire campground and then some.
Weightlessness. Wind. Realization. Viori was slicing through the air, screaming with indignation and fury, flailing and flipping end over end. Despite clearing the campground, she couldn’t flitter to protect herself from a crash landing.
Micah shouted a denial—Impact came faster than she expected. A heavy thud registered. Thoughts fragmented. Things inside her smashed together. Other things cracked. Blood and dirt coated her tongue. Another thud. Then another and another until she caught the rhythm and rolled to the edge of Grimm Forest.
When she stopped, she held her position, panting. Blinking. Trying to think and see past the cloud of dirt. She coughed and spit, her indignation only magnifying. Why, that little brat!
The air cleared and her dizziness faded. With her brain no longer rattling against her skull, she rallied the good sense to climb to her knees. Sharp pains accompanied each movement. The pain only elevated as broken bones snapped into place and joints knitted back together. Her stomach protested, threatening to empty. Deep breath in. Out.
Angry shouts sounded in the distance. Wait. The shaking. Worse by the second. Coming from...the ground?
Understanding dawned, sure and bright. Graves had tossed her, removing her from danger as quickly as possible, then sprinted in the same direction, giving chase. But he’d tossed her amid a temper tantrum, his strength causing her countless injuries at a crucial moment in her marriage.
Well. Why waste the lad’s efforts? Later, though, she’d be giving him a stern lecture. And a spanking!
With a huff, she dashed ahead, plunging deeper into the forest. Graves would catch up. What’s more, Micah wouldn’t injure him or allow his men to strike. There at the end, she’d sensed the change in him. Her children were secure—for now.
Graves arrived, long legs allowing him to bypass her entirely. “I said no,” he told her with a snotty tone, humphing as he left her in his dust.
Are you kidding me? He dared to pout?
Speeding after him, she—Argh! She screeched and halted abruptly. Her new collar. The metal had heated, burning white-hot. No, not just heating but pulling. Hard. Attempting to yank her back to Micah? She did her best to press on, but felt as if she were walking through a pool of molasses. Each step required staggering amounts of strength. Her thighs soon trembled. Once again, she tried to flitter and failed. Also the collar’s fault? Outside the camp, the ability should work.
“The king hacked and burned you, for goodness’ sake,” she called, puffing her breaths. “He isn’t your father. He’s your murderer!”
Once she got Graves under control and safely tucked away, she would find someone to remove the collar. Then, she would return and finish the original plan—overseeing Micah’s sabotage, earning Kaysar’s forgiveness.