Unfortunately, he doesn’t care about my desire to stay in bed longer. He grabs my arm and pulls me to the edge of the mattress. “Wake up.”
As I open my gritty eyes, he straightens and folds his arms over the hissing serpent engraved in his surcoat. I suppress a curse, hating that serpent more than ever. “It’s too early.”
“It’s not early. Get up.”
Frustration seizes me as I shove tangled strands behind my ears and shift my attention to the open door. Sunlight streams in, blinding me.
He holds out a dark green cloak. “Put this on.”
I grumble about bossy men and stand. The moment I’m on my feet, he slips the cloak around my shoulders and grabs my arm. He directs me to the door and into the empty corridor. I grit my teeth as he continues leading me like a stray dog through the Astarobane palace.
“Will you at least tell me where we’re going?” I ask when we step outside.
“No,” he says, his reply as crisp as the morning air nipping at my cheeks.
His mood obviously hasn’t improved. Not that I thought it would.
The surcoat Hector gave me is at least three sizes too big. It hangs limply on my body. Even the boots he gave me are too large. They flop every time I take a step.
It’s more than most prisoners would receive. Still, it stings my pride to be walking next to him dressed like this and with my hands bound.
You did this.
I try to push away the truth. It remains, needling into my mind over and over.
In the courtyard, outside the Astarobane palace, a group of thirty Bloodstone warriors and Everly wait for us.
My chest tightens as I blink, but she doesn’t disappear. She’s still standing there. Still reminding me of her sister, Kassandra. A day hasn’t passed without me thinking about Kassandra. She’s interwoven into the fabric of my life.
A red circle no longer stains the front of Everly’s surcoat. Happiness leaps inside me. Happiness for her. Maybe the red circle is gone for good. Maybe these men will treat her like equals instead of an outsider.
I recognize seven of the barbarians walking behind us. Aston, Gray, Hero, Luc, Leah, Cenric, and Praxis. Their scowls scorch my back.
As we approach the corral, where I stole the horse, the white mare snorts and bolts away.
I cannot blame her.
Hector helps me onto a brown mare, then mounts Hale. As he guides Hale away from the corral, he keeps hold of my horse’s reins. Everly and the rest of the Bloodstone barbarians follow us.
We leave behind the main streets of Astarobane and head toward the southern gates. I try to not look around too much, or to remember too much.
Even as the streets give way to the hills and valleys beyond the thick walls, the memories are there, etching those moments into my thoughts like a chisel against stone.
The Malachites attacking. Saving Luc’s daughter’s life and fighting off my attackers. Realizing that so many had perished.
I glance at Luc, taking in his haunted green eyes. Where is his daughter, Adelaide? Maybe she went with the people who left Astarobane after the Malachites attacked.
The sun rises high in the cloudless sky before we reach a stone building nestled beneath the barren limbs of two willow trees. Hector dismounts and helps me from my horse’s back. As soon as my feet meet the ground, he grabs my arm and leads me toward the building.
Ten men stand guard outside. They wear black surcoats with a scarlet-colored lotus in the center. The one with patches on his sleeves nods as Hector approaches.
Out of my peripheral vision, I catch sight of Hector. Sunlight glistens off his stern brow and his livery collar. It makes all the difference to his people. Without it, they wouldn’t recognize him. With it, he is their leader. Their death bringer. Their executioner.
Stop it.
If I’m going to come up with a careful plan for escape, I cannot keep allowing bitter thoughts. They will not help me in my quest.
We step inside a spacious room with tall arches, wide windows, and a granite floor. Two rows of stone pillars run down the center, each one with a marble bust representing a former chieftain perched on the top. At least, I think they represent their chieftains.
