Page 54 of Fires of the Forsaken
We trekked for a few more minutes, with people gawking at me the whole way, before we reached the castle.
Yes. It was a bona fide freakingcastle. Not a big one. Maybe six stories tall, although it had four towers that probably reached seven stories. It was only slightly larger than the wall that surrounded the city. And it wasn’t much wider than a sports stadium.
In terms of structure, I’d seen better. This one got two stars out of ten in my book.
But the rest of it? Fifteen stars out of ten. Easily.
Because what set this castle apart and had me almost breaking my neck trying to see it from every angle, were the walls. They were white. And I wasn’t talking about a dingy, creamy color. Or a sterilepsychiatric wardkinda white. Naw. This buildingpoppedagainst the night sky. Like it was illuminated. It seemed fake: too pristine, too vibrant, too bright. It hurt my eyes to stare at it.
“Wow!” I blurted. “How d'you get the building to shine? You got LEDs embedded into the wall? No. That can’t be it. You guys don’t have electricity, right? Or do you? Hmm. Did you use reflective paint—hey! Ouch!”
Cheriour had grasped my arm. Tightly.
“I’m not trying to be rude; I’m just saying—”
“Hush.” With a jerky movement, Cheriour pointed to the front of the castle.
A man with short, sandy-colored hair and a graying beard strolled down the luminous front steps.
“Quinn,” Cheriour said, his voice quiet…tooquiet. The kind of voice you’d use to placate someone before they did something stupid. I knew it well; it’d been used on me plenty of times.
The man, Quinn, lifted his head as he came to the bottom of the steps. I had a split second to take in the structure of his face—his chiseled jaw, the dark shadows that ringed his sky-blue eyes, and his high cheekbones—before he cursed. In one swift move, he plucked a blade from his belt and chucked it at my head.
17
Headless Addie
Iscreamed.
Cheriour yanked my head down.
The knife whipped through my hair. It brushed against my scalp but didn’t get close enough to draw blood. ThankGod.
I let out a raspy breath as Cheriour’s fingers tightened against the top of my head, keeping my chin pressed to my chest. My pulse thundered in my ears. I’d beencentimetersaway from being a freaking corpse!
“What is this?” Quinn hissed. Like a snake—a slithering, murderoussnake.
“Quinn, calm yourself,” Cheriour said.
I flinched when I heard Quinn stomping toward me.
“Be still, Addie,” Cheriour whispered, forcing my head down even further.
“Calm myself?”Quinn's haughty voice was way too close.
“What the fricking frick?” my muscles coiled, screaming at me to run. But I couldn’t. Cheriour had me pinned down with an iron grip. And mynoble steedwouldn’t move. I dug my heels into her side. She grunted, her shoulders twitching, but didn’t budge.
Freaking Belanna. She’d told Sacrifice to stay put, hadn’t she?
But I kept squirming and nudging Sacrifice to move. Until Cheriour murmured a warning and dug his fingers into my scalp.
Quinn's boots thudded across the ground again. “Release her.”
“No,” Cheriour said.
“Cheriour...”
“No. Not until you're willing to listen.”
