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)
An aklo knocks and announces the Queen’s presence.
“Quick!” I cry. “Hide under the desk.”
“I wouldn’t lower myself.”
“You were just under there!”
Quin holds his chin high. “That was before I knew you were a thief.”
I stare at him, aghast. “I am not a—”
The door handle jiggles.
Quin smirks. “I shall alert the queen to your crimes.”
Quite the little handful he must have been growing up. “How about we play a game,” I try, feeling sweat pool in every one of my crevices. “I’ll count to ten, and you hide until I find you.”
“I’m not a baby!”
“No, you’re quite the little monster.”
“How dare—”
The door handle jiggles again. I cover Quin’s mouth and drag him to the closet. “Stay inside. After, I’ll give you taffy.”
Quin narrows his eyes. “Two taffies.”
Another jiggle.
“Fine. Two.”
“And a pony.”
“Absolutely not—”
“Then I shall scream.”
“Fine. A pony.” I shove him inside and slam the door, leaning against it just as Queen Veronica sweeps into the room with an akla carrying tea.
“Plum blossom and rose,” she says. “Try some with me while I pick your brain.”
I feel a thump behind me and shift to cover the noise. “I can’t say my brain is particularly on form tonight, Veronica.”
She laughs. “Are you trying to shoo me off for alone time with my husband?”
“You love teasing me with that line.”
“How about this. As soon as Quin turns up, I’ll slip out?”
Sweat is beading down my spine. “Here’s the thing,” I say, swallowing hard. “I have a very pressing cure to get on with. It’s, uh, delicate. Very precise work. The slightest distraction could—”
A muffled thump rattles the wardrobe behind me.
“—end in catastrophe,” I finish, voice pitching slightly.
“All the more reason to drink some tea. Clear the mind first.”
The wardrobe is quiet behind me and I inch away from it, holding my breath. “A very quick tea, then.”
The moment I press the teacup to my lips, Veronica shrieks. Her gaze cuts to the thumping wardrobe and over to me.
I wince. “Cat?” I try.
But the wardrobe door bursts open and mini-Quin marches forth with crossed arms and flattened lips.
Veronica’s mouth falls open. She blinks at him and blinks at me. “Some cat.”
I scowl and wag a finger at Quin. “No pony.”
“Mother!” Quin screams.
Veronica clutches my arm, tight. “What. Is. This?”
I consider handing her the bottle to try. Then maybe she’ll forget this treasonous act of mine. But two snarky children . . .
I whimper. “Retribution?”
Quin finally stops screaming, only to pin deadly little eyes on me. “The pony, or I get louder.”
“That’s . . . even possible?”
“Pony!”
Veronica is a sudden burst of laughter beside me. “You are in so much trouble.”
I wish she was talking to Quin.
“And who are you?” Quin turns on Veronica.
Your Queen. Your wife. The mother of your child. I suppose none of these responses are particularly appropriate.
“She’s here to look after you while your mother is away,” I say.
Veronica mutters under her tongue. “Don’t pawn this off on me.”
“He’s meeting the Wyrd kingdom’s crown prince, I have to focus on fixing this.”
“Fine,” Veronica says, snorting. “I’ll let him play with his son. But, Caelus, remember I had nothing to do with this.”
“Neither did I!” I press my hands together like a Skeldar prayer to the gods. “When he wakes up . . . this never happened.”
I wish this really, really never happened.
Mini monarch Quin is a menace.
He attempts to infiltrate the redcloak barracks to ‘personally inspect the troops’. He demands I give him his crown. He outlaws vegetables.
Somehow, he escapes all my desperate attempts to keep him from . . . people, and finds Nicostratus in the gardens, promptly calling him “Father.”
Nicostratus stares at me in absolute horror.
“Father, finally. Get rid of this man! He keeps following me.”
I sigh, rubbing my temples. “It’ll wear off,” I promise. “But I’m close to helping that happen sooner.”
“Arcane Sovereign!”
Mini Quin raises his arms like a conquering hero, and Nicostratus—the traitor—holds back a laugh and picks him up.
“Shall we ride the wind?”
“Finally,” Mini Quin sighs. “Some fun around here.”
“Just be back in an hour,” I say. “He has peace talks with Wyrds.”
Only, I’m still not quite finished brewing the fix when it’s time. “Nicostratus,” I plead. “You must go in his stead. If they ask, say he’s secluded for meditative healing.”
When I’ve finally added the final drop to The Fix, I sag on a breath of relief and call Quin to show himself.
He doesn’t answer.
I whirl around. He’d been looking at my spell books. Just. There . . .
The door.
The open door.
Panic lurches through me.
Oh no. Oh, no no.
I nearly slip on the polished floors, vault over a canal bridge, and burst into the King’s Hall. Where my worst nightmare is taking place.
Officials and delegates, all dressed in formal attire.
And Nicostratus, smiling like nothing is wrong, holding a kicking, wiggling King Quin over one shoulder. “War is bad,” Quin shouts, punching the air. “Where’s my pudding?”