Read Online The Immortal Heights by Sherry Thomas - Free Book Online Page B

would accompany him to hell again, no questions asked.”
    Whereas he and Amara did not have that history of shared struggle. That as much as he loved her, it was as a bystander, looking in from the outside.
    â€œTitus and I have been fortunate in each other,” she said.
    And how she missed him.
    It wasn’t his absence that she minded—the Master of the Domain was always off somewhere, doing something; that had been the way ever since they first met. It was this fear she could not shake, nowthat they were close—and edging ever closer—to the moment of truth.
    Could she save him—or would it prove all hubris and wishful thinking? And if she couldn’t . . .
    â€œWhy don’t you take some rest?” said Kashkari. “You look tired.”
    She would have preferred for them to start for Cairo right away, but she had promised Titus that she would rest, and she was beginning to feel drained. “Don’t let me sleep too long.”
    â€œWe’ll be in Cairo before the end of the day,” Kashkari assured her.
    No, she thought, he was not back to his old self. She knew the old Kashkari, she knew his resolve, his courage, and his secret heartache. None of it had gone away, but there was something different about him.
    He was . . . saddened. He hid it well, but he was weighed down, in a way he hadn’t been before he’d awakened in the cave, gasping for breath.
    What exactly had he dreamed of?
    Her own slumber was blissfully free of dreams, but when she woke up her head was crammed full of memories that had been suppressed for years and years.
    Memories of herself as a baby, inhaling the subtle narcissus perfume of the warm body that cradled her own, falling asleep in a cloud of contentment.
    Memories of herself as a toddler, running her fingers over the rich silk velvet of the overrobe of this unbelievably beautiful woman who was her mother. Her mother .
    Memories of herself as a little girl, wishing this one day every two years that she could spend with her marvelous mother would never, ever end, that the clock would stop one minute short of midnight and not move again.
    Memories of herself as a slightly older girl, her eyes wide at learning that her father was none other than the hero of the January Uprising. And two years later, she and her mother weeping together over Baron Wintervale’s sudden passing.
    That would be the last good year before Master Haywood’s troubles began. Before she started to plead with her mother to help the man who cared for her, whom she loved like a father. Before she received the answer that had chilled her to the bone: He is only the help, my darling; you don’t need to worry about him. Before she had no choice but to understand that this man who had devoted his life to her mother meant nothing to the latter. He was but a cog in the machinery she’d built to keep herself and her daughter safe. 1
    She could never again love her mother with the purity and wonder of those more innocent days. Their relationship grew testy. Lady Callista was not happy with a daughter who was no longer adoring and biddable; Iolanthe grew ever more frustrated and distrusting.
    Their last meeting had been downright antagonistic. Master Haywood had just lost his position at a third-tier lower academy fortaking bribes from students for better marks, forcing him to accept a position as a schoolmaster in one of the most remote villages of the Domain.
    Iolanthe had been furious with him, but the moment memories of her secret life had come back, all her fury transferred to Lady Callista. When Lady Callista had come for her a few minutes after midnight, Iolanthe screamed and railed. She was going to go to Master Haywood that instant and tell him everything. She didn’t care that his possession of the knowledge might threaten Lady Callista’s position or her own safety. There were gray areas in life, but this was not one of them. What had been done to