Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Florentius carefully positions himself in front of us as Mikros and Makarios make a welcome reappearance in my life by setting us free and on our feet.
When we’re upright and steady, the two silver-sashed royal vitalians step up to Florentius’s side as he eloquently puts Team Orange in their place.
“The regent himself has declared anyone may enter this contest. Let them prove themselves in the trials.”
They sneer. “Your skills we respect, but sticking up for Skeldars and women . . . It makes you complicit in muddying our traditions.”
I sidle between Makarios and Florentius and catch stubborn eyes. Attitudes like this are what is affecting Lumin relations with Iskaldir. I need to do well in this contest—for my king, but also to open their minds.
“If my team surpasses yours, I want you to publicly apologise.” Florentius jerks in surprise at my incision but steps back a half pace and lets me continue. “And take back your contempt of non-magicked—and women’s—skills. Spread the word that Skeldars are equal to Lumins in medical proficiency.”
A disbelieving laugh. Team Orange ball their fists in unison. “Then, should you lose to us . . .” He smiles. “You must tattoo on your face a wyvern triumphing over the Skeldar gods, and” —he steps forward mockingly— “your team, including your Prins, must kiss our boots.”
At the mention of such humiliation, people around us hold their breaths. But mine comes easily. I plunge my hand forward and shake his. “Deal.”
“Tell me,” Prins Lief says with a quiet intensity that has me hastily kneeling before him, “is there a day you don’t get yourself—and royalty—into trouble? Why didn’t you hold your tongue, walk away?” He prowls closer and tips my chin. “Why can’t you see the delicate position we’re in?”
His words are reminiscent of Quin’s warning, about being a pawn surrounded by powerful pieces.
I don’t so much as blink as I hold his stare. “Yes, there is a tremendous amount to lose. There’s also a tremendous amount to gain.”
He drops his fingers from my chin and narrows his eyes.
I continue. “Spreading the word of Skeldar skill will have people pausing before they judge you. It’ll help tackle misconceptions. Perhaps lead to better relations, understanding. I’m thinking about the bigger picture.”
“What about the picture you’re in right now?” he tosses back. “You think winning will solve everything. Let me ask you this: have you thought about the case you do? Have you wondered why Captain Kjartan and Iskaldir’s elite stormblades are accompanying us? Have you understood why your aunt promised her life to me if you return unharmed?”
My stomach sinks and I finally drop my gaze. I’ve been caught up in the challenge, in the dream of freeing Quin, even our kingdom’s future relations with Iskaldir. But I haven’t thought about this. “You don’t think they’ll let us leave easily.”
“You’re idealistic. You desire change, and you desire it to happen all at once. Let me tell you this: you’ll change nothing if you’re dead.”
I bow my head. A stiff silence follows, and I slowly rise to my feet. “You’re right. They’ve already started trying to be rid of us.” I tell him about the assassins and the Skeldar weapons used to get away with it. “They’ll make it look like an accident. An attack by a third party. Something that doesn’t implicate the regent.”
“I’ll have men escort you, for safety.”
I shake my head. “I have a candidate for that job. A Lumin. Someone less conspicuous. He has men in the shadows too; the regent will be keeping a close eye on your men.”
He purses his lips and heaves in another breath. “Should we bring up the other issue?” The other—oh, he means Olyn. A Lumin, on our team. “How do I explain her to my father?”
“By the time he hears of it, there’ll be nothing to be done.”
“That’ll be trouble.”
“It’s more trouble to fail. And to succeed, I need her help.” I need all the help I can get.
“Then I’m the one who insisted she join the team. Me.”
This . . . My voice comes out gravelly. “Thank you.”
“Enough of all that. I received this today.” Prins Lief settles a badge into my hand.
“Skriniaris Evander,” I murmur.
“He says you should use it after hours.”
That’ll help avoid unnecessary confrontations.
I back up towards the door, clutching the badge.
“Focus.” The prins looks at me in pinch-eyed warning. “Don’t do anything frivolous.”
Megaera needs a kitchen—I left some tricky scriptions for her to practice—so it’s only Olyn and myself heading to the library that night.
The shadows feel menacing and Olyn follows my darting looks. “As you asked, Bastion is following.”
“You’re close with him.”
She laughs lightly. “As close as friends can be.”
“Not more?”
“With that philandering swashbuckler?” Somewhere in the distance there’s a distinct sound of protest. She laughs. “He’s well figured out that I’m not inclined that way.”