Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
I keep my head bowed and tug my hood lower over my eyes—
“Assistance!” The call is loud and startling. The redcloak’s attention is swiftly diverted by a figure in crimson cutting the dozen yards between us.
It’s Megaera. Her gaze glides over us and lands firmly on the redcloak. She pulls a badge from her belt and holds it for inspection. “Emblem of the regent,” she says. “Obey.”
The redcloak takes in the badge and immediately prostrates himself.
“The runaway is headed towards the east gate,” she says. “Gather your men.”
With a fleeting glance our way, she and the redcloak depart in a rush. We move swiftly, and I look over my shoulder at their retreating figures.
Megaera seems to be someone who appears and disappears at crucial moments in my life, somehow entangled with me even if I don’t want it. I’m still bitter at what she’s taken from Quin, but . . . helping her has at least helped us here. It’s something. But how I wish she’d take a page from Maskios and leave my life for good.
The sudden thought of him follows me as we hurry along the riverbank, my boots crunching over loose stones. By the time we reach the waiting boat, memories are clinging to me like the damp air. Something Quin seems to notice as we untie the rope and set forth. “What are you thinking?”
I look over at him and recollect our departure from the capital. Why can’t I be Calix Solin? It’s a mask I’ve worn before.
It’s not your mask to wear.
Slow shivers slink through me, and I have to shake them off. Maskios is gone. He doesn’t mean anything. He would return if he really wanted to.
Quin murmurs, “It seems to have stolen your mind.”
“It hasn’t stolen my mind!” I rush out, swallowing. “I’m just contemplating what comes next.”
Quin watches me for a long moment, unconvinced, but whatever he thinks, he lets it go. “Most of my supporters are in Hinsard. Once I’ve secured witnesses proving my uncle’s schemes to destabilise the kingdom, the city will be key to my return to the capital.”
“Due to the power of Veronica’s family?”
“Her family and their soldiers are among my biggest allies. The redcloak units my brother used to command are also based there, along with others who are loyal.”
I dip my fingers into pulling water and they flex, my gloves momentarily heavy. The rare material wicks off the moisture the moment I pull my hand away from the surface.
“You’re frowning,” Quin says.
“Your uncle sending soldiers from the borders back to Hinsard . . . aren’t they his loyalists? Will there be warring between units? Is he trying to curb the last of your power?”
Quin’s jaw twitches determinedly. “I won’t let that happen.”
We pass through gnarled woods, morning sun turning to afternoon sun, casting golden rays between tree trunks. Mystical, and a little . . . foreboding. There’s movement beyond. Deer, hopefully. I shiver quietly, and distract myself. “If Hinsard is your stronghold, will many recognise you?”
“Those that do will be sure to respect my alias.”
“What will your alias be?” How many do you have? “Travelling merchant again?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“You could shave your hair off and say you’re on a pilgrimage to all five spiritual sites.”
“Why are you intent on ruining my hair?”
“What about a messenger? Or an aklo? Say you work for Veronica’s father.”
“I need more status for my purposes.”
“Suppose that rules out jester.” I sigh, smiling. “Pity. You’re spectacular dolled up, playing my wife. Speaking of, how exactly did you get my golden feather back? Even saving his life didn’t compel him to give it to me . . .”
“I visited him.”
“As . . . my wife?”
“As his king. Some buried wine the vespertines discovered that morning gave me the idea. I had someone leave a pot where our dear farmer would find it. When he did, I was informed and made my way to a few houses along the street thanking the people for their trust.”
I smirk. He clears his throat and continues, “When it came to thanking him, of course he flurried about to offer me the best of what he had. I noticed the wine, gushed about the quality, and we got to drinking.”
“You drank him under the table and stole the feather?”
“What kind of king would do something so underhand?”
“Yes, since everything else was above board.”
Quin leans forward and I jerk myself away before he can land a flick. “I steered our conversation until he brought out the golden feather for me to admire. At that point, I declared I must have it.”
“He gave it to you?”
“As you said, he wouldn’t even give it to his saviour.” Quin grimaces. “I bought it off him.”
I feel my inner cloak for the money Megaera returned—the only money we have. “How did you get your hands on it? How much did you spend?”