Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Quin wakes at the first shimmer of dawn and opens his eyes to Chaos, sleeping serenely before him.
I crawl over and kneel for a better view.
His hand hovers near the back of Chaos’s head, like he wants to bury it in the silky locks of his golden hair, and a smile is ghosting over his face.
He pulls away sharply and sits, jaw twitching as he slams his eyes shut. He swallows hard, and I follow a subtle shake of his shoulders to his trembling limbs. Chaos stirs behind him and Quin stiffens; when it’s quiet again, he pulls himself to his feet and hobbles outside to a blast of fresh air in his face. He breathes it in deeply, but as if it’s not enough, he gets on his horse. I hurry to jump on behind him as he steers his mount and rides down the narrow path. His cloak whips in the wind, his hair is tossed back, his grip on the reins is white.
I have to hold on tight not to be thrown off—and Quin claimed these memories are safe! One sharp bend and I might fly off the cliffs for real.
He slows as he reaches the slip blocking the path but the tension he carries thrums ceaselessly under my fingers. “You can’t, Constantinos Quintus. You mustn’t!”
I sigh. This is why he left me alone up there.
I lightly nip his shoulder.
Chaos will wake to a cold luminarium, Maskios nowhere to be seen. He’ll wait for an hour, thinking perhaps he was out to forage for food, or find Chaos’s mare. When he doesn’t return, Chaos will pick himself up and start walking down the path on his own, becoming more and more irritated with each step. He’d talk to himself. Hadn’t we started to get on? Why then did I wake to no one, no word left, and no idea if we’ll ever meet again? I have no horse! The beating my father will give me . . . And my brother! His ruined robe . . .
Chaos would make vows on his long trek down the mountain. He’d pound his fist towards the sky and declare Calix ‘Maskios’ Solin could not be relied upon; could not be trusted. Just wait, if he ever saw the man again! A mask is, after all, a lie.
I grind my head against Quin’s braids while Quin mutters to himself to get under control.
“Brother.”
I look up sharply, as Quin does too. Nicostratus slows his mount to a walk and stops on the opposite side of the slip. “Been searching all night,” he shouts. “You’ve scared me.”
Quin manages a chuckle as Nicostratus throws out a spell that blasts the fallen rock into fine dust.
When the path is cleared, Nicostratus grins. “Coming? Or are you suddenly fond of the mountain path?”
Quin hesitates. He looks over his shoulder, back up the path to where Chaos is, somewhere hours off, stumbling and cursing him. He shifts in his saddle. A long misty breeze sails over him and Quin turns in it towards his brother, his mind set. “Let’s go.”
The taste of canal water in the dark air pulls me forward, and I tumble down a bank under a moonless sky. One splash is followed by another. I catch my breath as I make out Quin’s silhouette, tight with frustration, rowing violently. As he passes, a lantern hanging at the stern casts dim light over the staunch line of his jaw, and I’m desperate to understand.
I run alongside the canal and make a leaping jump into his boat.
I’m almost knocked out again when Nicostratus appears on the winds and drops onto my bench. I lurch to my feet and perch awkwardly on the side, between the brothers. Nicostratus is lightly armoured and wears his red military cloak, a contrast against Quin’s dark clothes and darker expression.
Quin pauses mid-row.
“You’re upset,” Nicostratus murmurs. “But running off into the capital on this night . . .”
“Better than being trapped in here.”
“I’m sorry, brother. Father is thinking about your protection. Should he die . . . he’s thinking about the overall good.”
“Right now, Nico, I don’t want to understand him.”
Nicostratus nods sombrely, and slowly they enter a misty section of the canal. I peer through the fog on a shiver and spy a craggy island with a castle intact. Neither brother knows yet that this island will soon be ruined, will soon become that island, a place of death. Including the order for Quin’s own.
We pass in silence, and Quin meets his brother’s eyes, speaking gruffly. “Will you join me?”
“Military training. You know how volatile Uncle gets on this night.”
“Then you mustn’t be late.”
Nicostratus kicks off out of the boat and treads on the wind, bowing to Quin with a grin.
“I’ll come with you tomorrow night, no matter the punishment.”
“Drinks at the academy?”