Total pages in book: 169
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156210 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 781(@200wpm)___ 625(@250wpm)___ 521(@300wpm)
I frown at the massive drop of wetness hitting my forehead. I am mortified that in this pompous moment, with hundreds watching us, a bird has shat straight on my head.
But no, another drop of cold wetness spills onto my cheek, and a second later Kyran lifts his hand, palm up, as if the very existence of rain was shocking to him. The villagers, who all gathered closer to see the effigy burn, whisper among themselves, and I quickly move the pink flames of the torch to the wooden Heartbreak. The bits of seaweed catch fire, but the rain grows heavier, and Wiser Ana lifts her face toward the sky as the moonlight dims.
“A sign,” she mutters as people retreat under stalls, and trees.
Within moments, the rain extinguishes our torch and attacks the bonfire with ferocity. Kyran must have sobered up a little because of the cold, and he ushers me away from the effigy and toward Crab. Water streams down my face, and I frown when I taste it.
“It’s… salty,” I say to him.
“Saltwater. A warning from Heartbreak,” Kyran mumbles and reaches into the saddle. He stares at the single glove left there in confused silence.
I rub my face as my gaze drifts to the effigy. It won’t burn. Nor will Kyran’s glove. Is that an omen for my relationship with him?
“I… put it in there. Sorry,” I mumble, embarrassed.
Kyran opens his mouth, staring at me as the falling water transforms his wavy hair into a sleek mane similar to Crab’s. He’s only missing the seaweed. “That’s adorable,” he says, grinning, and pulls me close, as if the perspective of it not burning means nothing to him. Maybe he’s too drunk to realize what that would imply? Maybe he believes it to be just a superstition?
I never thought of myself as “adorable”, but I don’t even fight him on it, because what the hell. We’re kissing in the rain, drunk on cherin, and he’s a prince. I won’t be denying myself this moment.
Chapter 30
Kyran
Following my first-ever hangover, I promised myself to never ever have more than one cup of cherin at a time. The second half of the Ardournalia are brief flashes of memory, and I spent the greater part of the following day ailing in bed. I don’t even remember riding back home, and while it was embarrassing to have Luke see me in such a pathetic state, he insisted on nursing me back to health.
I rested my head in his lap, and he stroked it while reading my mother’s notes on bats and despairs. He insisted he had experience dealing with the state I was in, and there must have been something to it, because I let him decide when and what I should eat and drink, and he managed to get me back on my feet sooner than it would usually have taken for my brother after a night of hard drinking.
Another week has passed since, and while we’ve known one another for such a short time, I can no longer imagine spending the rest of my life without him. Despite our union being essential to the safety of my people, a part of me is grateful we did not end up marrying after only a day together, because it will feel different now. I have such a fondness for him that the marriage no longer feels like an obligation, something for me to thrust upon him. I cannot wait to wrap my fingers around the midnight rose and call him truly mine. But he’s still uncertain, and I’m prepared for anything to show him that this realm is where he belongs.
With me.
I can give him what he needs—peace, care, safety, passion. He only needs to let me. Now that I’ve known him for almost a month, I realize he wears armor around his heart, but I’ve managed to crack it here and there. Like when he told me about his mother, or when he laughs with me, or when he moans my name.
I want everything. I want to know his every interest, find out where his pleasure lies, and learn about any sorrow he might have experienced. I will be like shadow and sneak in through the cracks in his pride, so by our wedding, he won’t even know how it happened, yet will realize I’m in his heart.
And during today’s hunt, I will take one step closer to making him mine when I give him what he craves.
I need to make sure I’m not too distracted by the way his ass rides up and down in his saddle, or I will have no chance of hunting down the Stag of Sunrise. He looks as good in regal riding clothes and a light breastplate as he does in a nightshirt, but with his hair braided back and my crest on his torso, it’s obvious to me that he belongs here.