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)
John, her swamp baby, rushed into the clearing and joined the fray, tearing into other trolls. After Graves assured himself of Viori’s good health, he joined the melee. The two darlings worked with Micah, cutting through the opposition. When she noticed her sandcats nipping at the heels of the trolls, her heart swelled. They were a family, working together for a common goal. Her family. A dream she’d never realized she’d entertained, finally coming true.
Viori cheered encouragements. “Gut him! Off with his head! Shove his heart down his throat!”
Soon, a measly three trolls survived. Blood splattered Micah, Graves and John as they each faced off with a single opponent. Gashes littered her husband’s chest. Several of Graves’s branches hung by the barest sliver of bark. John had lost an arm.
Forget encouragements. She initiated a new song. A healing melody that burned through her power. Worth it. Micah’s wounds wove together. Graves jolted with renewed strength, and John regrew his missing limb.
Gratification stirred within her. I’m helping!
Micah won his match first, his opponent falling, motionless, a dagger hilt protruding from his throat. Her king glanced from Graves’s battle to John’s, no doubt deciding who needed help most, when a surprise fourth troll dived out of nowhere, one arm drawn back, a fiery spear clutched in a tight grip.
Her song morphed into a scream of horror. Micah’s head whipped up. He followed her sight line. But not soon enough. For Viori, time slowed. She watched, helpless, as the troll launched a killer shot at her husband. The missile flew at dizzying speed. As Graves spun in front of Micah, Micah flittered in front of him, and the flame-drenched spear sliced through his heart.
No! No, no, no. She flittered to him, catching him when his body collapsed. They fell together as she batted at the flames. Blisters popped up all over her hands; some of her flesh melted. Searing pain consumed her, but she didn’t stop until she extinguished the last flame.
So badly she wished to sing another healing song. More than anything! But her emotions had just taken a wrong turn. A song might assure his death. Momma and Papa all over again.
Graves skewered the troll with a branch, while John finished him off. The sandcats ran circles around her and Micah, howling their distress.
Her gaze never veered from her husband. “You fool! Why did you do that?”
Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. “Protect...what’s...ours.”
“Fool,” she repeated, hot tears cascading over her cheeks. “I can’t sing you better.”
“Hurt you once...not ever again.”
A sob parted her lips. Panic rising, she lifted her gaze. “Help me. Graves. John. Please!”
John rushed over to yank the branch from Micah’s chest.
“Not like that,” she screamed as a tide of crimson gushed from the open wound. Warm blood welled between her fingers when she tried to block the flow with her hands. Desperation pierced her.
Micah grunted, then coughed up sprays of blood.
The tears fell faster, her chin trembling. Words spilled from her lips. “What do I do? How do I help him?” She’d never doctored a fae other than herself before.
Could Micah even survive this? Could anyone? Most fae were swift healers—superswift compared to humans—but they were not invulnerable. And what of Micah, who scarred?
He’s survived worse. Yes?
“Brace yourself. I’m doing this.” She ripped off her tunic, uncaring about her sudden nakedness, and pressed the material into his wound to stop the exit of blood.
His eyelids drifted shut.
“Stay awake, baby.” She pressed harder. With all her strength. “Tell me something. Anything. I am your queen. Obey me!”
He pried those heavy lids apart, his glassy eyes finding hers as he continued to gurgle up blood. “Thank...you. For today.”
“No!” A new cascade of tears streaked her cheeks, burning. “Don’t you dare thank me. You get better. Do you understand?” This male—this good, good male with his honorable heart—had saved Graves. He shouldn’t die for it. Please, don’t die for it.
“I’m taking him to get help. I’ll come back for you when I can,” she told her children. Wasting no time, she flashed Micah to their oasis, next to the waterfall. Something she could do now that he’d removed the collar and they were outside of his camp.
“Cookie!” she screamed when Micah’s eyelids slid closed. His head lolled to the side. The movements of his chest slowed. Soon to stop altogether? “Queen Cookie! Cookie! Kaysar! Pearl Jean!” Anyone!
“Ugh. Please, monitor your tone. I’m here because my oracle said you’d need me or whatever, so let’s get on with this. What’s the problem, what do you expect me to do and what will you pay me to do it?”
Viori whipped around. Not too far away, Cookie stood inside one of her mystical doorways, vibrant leaves framing the edges. The royal wore a strange tunic of her own with the words Property of Sugars Bardot underneath a knitted sweater, tight black leggings and fluffy white slippers. Her dark hair was piled into a mess on the crown of her head, with errant locks spilling over. Puffy eyes and sunken cheeks spoke of a recent sickness.