Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 151630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 758(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 151630 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 758(@200wpm)___ 607(@250wpm)___ 505(@300wpm)
“You can’t possibly remember how a place smelled decades ago,” the queen argues.
Neil frowns her way, taking two sandwiches. “I assure you I remember everything about the day I had to fight with a damn ogre.”
“But it was tasty, right?” Brendan asks.
I hear whispers coming from bushes to my left, but they hush as I move closer. I glance back and no one seems to notice except Rhys, whose eyes are on me even as he downs half a sandwich. I have to assume a Fae elemental would sense if there was some terrible danger.
“Why do you aid him?”
The question startles me, more because of the haunting voice that asks it. I turn and Rhys stands, obviously ready to intervene, but I hold a hand out.
A beautiful woman stands in the pond, her torso exposed, her long dark hair tangled with vines and weeds and sticks.
We’re far enough away from the party that we’re not interrupting them, though I’m sure they can all hear us. Well, the queen might not be able to but the wolves and vampires certainly can.
“I see your light and yet you walk with him.” Her skin is pale, lips a deep blue.
“Are you talking about the king?” I ask, walking to the edge of the pond. One of the hounds has left his search for treats and joins me at the water’s edge. I’m certain it’s only Fluffy’s calm demeanor that has Rhys restraining himself.
Her head cocks slightly. “Yes, though I’m surprised I don’t see his guards around him. I thought he was never without his dark guard.”
“He travels with wolves,” I reply. I’m not sure what the Fae call their guard, but the high priest wouldn’t have one assigned by the palace unless there was some sort of threat. The way I was told, Green Men are welcome on all the Fae planes. No one would dare harm a fertility deity.
She snorts. “He does? I thought only sidhe were good enough for our king.”
“He certainly has a fondness for the sidhe,” I reply.
“I don’t think she understands, Shea,” a quiet voice says, and then I’m turning to my right where a young woman sits on a rock. I didn’t notice her before, so she’s either good at hiding or she’s just come into this discussion. Like her friend, she has long hair, but there’s a warm tone to it, like the bark of a tree. Her skin is so translucent I can see traces of the veins where her blood once flowed. They have a greenish cast.
I frown her way. “You see each other? You can converse?”
It’s not that way on the Earth plane. Each spirit is solitary. They exist in some kind of bubble where they are utterly alone, able to see the living world but not interact with it. There is no dead world to live in on the Earthly plane. Death without the light is to be sentenced to a singular prison. Until you find someone like me.
The nymph goes underwater and quickly reappears close to what I might call a sprite. All I know is she is definitely a woodland Fae.
I hear Rhys telling someone to let me be, that I will find more information out if they pretend not to notice us.
So they are listening, though they can only hear one side of the conversation.
“We’re Fae, not human,” the sprite tells me. “We are more in touch with our energy than any human.”
“Why have you not moved on?” I ask. “Do the Fae not see the light?”
The nymph’s lips curl up in the slightest smile, the expression a bit cruel on her pale blue lips. “I have seen only darkness here since the king decided to rule with an iron fist. I thought he left for an outer plane. I saw him with his guards.”
Time flows differently for the dead. Harry talked about it quite a bit. He died the day the king and queen went missing, but he didn’t find me until years later. He remembered nothing of the time in between. His soul got stuck, or rather as Harry died he made the choice to not leave. When his soul picked up enough energy, he could manifest himself again. For others, they immediately start their lives as ghosts. So it’s not surprising that she’s talking about the king leaving like it was yesterday. For her, it might be. “He means you no harm. I know the king can seem intimidating.”
“That one looks to be his son,” Shea says, her gaze on the party sitting around the fire. “Did you know the bastard has a bastard, Clem?”
“He does. At least that’s the rumor. He had a child with a woman from one of the villages on the edge of the forest,” Clem replies as she shifts on her rock. “I suppose that’s him. I don’t know what’s going on, but this is wrong. Can you not feel it?”