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)
“You’re staring,” Elena snapped.
“Ah. It’s only rude when I do it.” Her snotty tenor revived. “Noted.”
A flush bloomed in the other woman’s cheeks. “Please also note the fact that I have no desire to be near you right now, but I’ve been ordered to guard you. As my punishment.”
Well. The time to find the trolls and reopen negotiations with Cookie had come. Waiting had been a mistake.
“By the way,” Viori said, all sugary sweetness. “I’ll pluck out your eyes again, if ever you examine my husband like he’s yours.”
The angry flush deepened. “He’s your husband now, is he?”
She smiled with sinister delight. “I’ll take your tongue again, too.”
Elena pursed her lips, as if she’d sucked on something sour. “You are the worst, you really are.”
“Yes,” Viori replied. “But I’m an excellent fighter.”
The other woman thought for a moment, then breathed deep, deflating as she exhaled. “You’re right about your skill...and my behavior. I do owe you an apology. So. I’m sorry, Majesty. I should not have eyed another woman’s mate.”
Wait. What? Viori froze in astonishment. Had her nemesis referred to her as Majesty? A willing admission of her authority? “You consider me queen now.” Perhaps she should stick around a little longer, after all.
Elena froze too. “I do not,” she huffed. “It was a mere slip of the tongue. An error I’ll never make again.”
“You do consider me queen.” And the knowledge was oh, so heady indeed. If Viori could win over this hater, she could win over anyone. Including Micah. Why give up now?
“Maybe,” the other woman said, grumbling now, “you are good for him. At times.”
Curiosity got the better of her. “Well? What times?”
“All times, okay? Happy now?”
Well. She flipped her hair over her shoulder. Someone had finally gained some good sense.
Someone...but not Micah.
I seek someone worthy. The memory of his insult lashed like a whip inside her brain, and she flinched. Oh, yeah. Gonna find those trolls.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MICAH LED VEE and the two-soldier search party through the Swamplands. Muted sunlight filtered through a large canopy of dark leaves, reflecting from muddy pools of water. Cypress trees—without faces—waved twisted branches in an astonishingly cool breeze. Damp air smelled like his wife. Flowers with a hint of citrus.
With every step he took, he moved farther away from Grimm Forest and the campground. Micah knew he should turn around. He should have returned to his people a thousand times over. Why continue? He’d made no progress with his wife. In fact, she was steadily reverting to her most feral state, his cause quickly losing ground. Win her? Hardly.
Was he supposed to revert to his original plan and imprison Vee? No. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He wanted his wife in his life. So, why not keep her collared and chained in his tent—neutralized—as he’d once threatened? Because why not? Shouldn’t he go down swinging rather than throwing his hands up in defeat? At least he’d still have a chance with her. Except, the idea of stealing her freedom didn’t settle right.
His mind a war zone, he continued trudging forward. He wasn’t sure he had the strength to stop. For the second time in his life, an invisible force pulled him toward a specific destination. Before, he’d found the trees and Vee, forever altering the course of his life. What would he find this time?
A year ago, he’d encountered a swamp beast here. A belua—her child—whose attack had allowed a foe to escape a much-needed beheading. Had little Red been sleeping nearby?
So close, yet so far. He should be on high alert for threats. Would the beast come for her? Challenge Micah for rights to her future? How would he react if so? Hurting the thing would only drive Vee further away from him. But allowing his own defeat wasn’t—and would never be—an option.
Torn. Always torn.
“Remove my collar at once.” Vee trudged behind, kicking sprays of dirty water over him.
Elena and Sabot trailed her, always listening to husband and wife with unabashed curiosity while navigating their mounts on foot. Thrice Micah had ordered the pair back to camp, but his favorite spy had refused, so his dedicated soldier had refused as well. And it was beyond galling! He couldn’t even control two of his most dedicated soldiers. No one did what he wanted anymore.
Elena, it seemed, remained determined to convince him to flitter Vee to the dungeon without delay while Sabot spent an abundance of his time admiring the blonde.
“The more I hate it,” Vee added, “the more I hate you.”
“I’ll try to find a way to survive,” Micah replied with a dry tone, doing his best to mask his spike of misgiving, guilt and regret. How dearly he missed his cuddly kitten.
Your fault she’s gone. You know this.
No. No! This was not his fault. It was hers. Her stubbornness and unwillingness to bend. Besides, the collar protected her as much as everyone else. No glamara meant no need for further punishment.