Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
J ana wandered dreamily through the hallways of the convent, her fingers tracing the designs carved into the walls. She’d been too restless, too filled with happiness, to stay in bed after Lothar went to meet with the king. The thought of him brought another smile to her face. The previous night had been the most wonderful night of her life. She’d never known she could experience such physical pleasure - but it was much more than that. It was Lothar’s gentle touches, his fierce protectiveness, the way he’d held her after she’d shared her darkest secrets.
Several groups of women gathered in the courtyards and common rooms she passed. They sat in clusters, some working on needlework while others chatted animatedly. A few glanced at her curiously, but she kept moving, not ready to face questions or conversation. She wanted to hug her happiness to herself - and her experiences had taught her to be wary of groups, even seemingly welcoming ones.
The rear garden beckoned, its wild tangle of overgrown plants promising solitude. No one had started to clear this area yet and thick vines climbed crumbling stone walls while untamed roses stretched their thorny branches across forgotten paths. She picked her way through the tangled mass until she found a weathered stone bench tucked into a sunny alcove.
She had just brushed aside the flowering vines and settled onto the warm stone when a deep male voice carried from behind a dense thicket of flowering shrubs.
“You shouldn’t be here alone,” the voice rumbled, followed by a woman’s soft reply that she couldn’t quite make out.
She froze, her heart racing. Was there a reason why she shouldn’t be here either? She considered moving closer, but something about the male’s voice made her decide to stay silent rather than announce her presence.
She held her breath, straining to hear the conversation.
“We suspect that the king has grown too fond of Jessamin.” The male’s voice held an edge of menace. “And she has adapted too well to this marriage.”
“She’s always been adaptable,” the woman replied with a malicious laugh.
“She was not supposed to adapt to this. She was supposed to return to her father in tears.” A low growl punctuated his words. “The timeline must change. If she forms a true mate bond with Ulric, all our plans will be ruined.”
Plans? What plans? Her hands trembled as she gripped the edge of the bench. The stones felt ice-cold beneath her fingers despite the warm sun.
“Don’t worry, Khorrek.” The woman’s voice dripped with honey-sweet venom. “I know exactly what to do. But my reward…”
“You’ll get what was promised - as long as you handle Jessamin properly.”
Another laugh, this one sending chills down her spine.
“Oh, I will. By tonight, she won’t be a problem anymore.”
She shuddered at the implied threat and her fingers curled tighter around the edge of the bench.
“Be careful,” the male cautioned. “This must not lead back to Lasseran.”
“When am I not?”
She heard a faint rustling, as if they were leaving, but she couldn’t move. Finally she took a deep breath and eased away from the bench, her legs trembling as she tried to move silently through the overgrown vegetation. Leaves rustled and a branch snapped beneath her feet despite her care. Just a few more steps to the archway into the inner gardens…
A massive shadow fell across her path. She jerked to a halt, her breath catching in her throat as she looked up into the scarred face of an orc warrior. His dark armor gleamed in the sunlight, and a jagged scar ran across his features. His tusks were filed to sharp points, unlike Lothar’s smooth ones. This must be Khorrek.
“What brings you to this secluded spot?”
His voice held the same menacing undertone she’d heard moments ago, but she forced her lips into what she hoped was a casual smile.
“Just… taking a walk. The gardens are lovely.”
“Are they?” Khorrek’s eyes narrowed as he studied her. “Strange. Most of the Brides prefer the inner courtyards.”
“I-I like the quiet.” Her voice quivered despite her efforts to keep it steady. She clasped her hands together to hide their shaking.
“The quiet?” He took a step closer, towering over her. “Perfect for… overhearing things?”
Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. She tried to back away but found herself against the wall.
“No, I… I just arrived. I haven’t heard anything. I’ll be going now.”
A huge hand clamped down on her arm. The grip wasn’t painful but she knew she couldn’t escape it and panic flooded her veins as the memories came roaring back. Rough hands, dark spaces, being trapped. No, not again. She thrashed wildly against his grip, but his fingers only tightened.
“Help-”
The cry died in her throat as his other hand slammed over her mouth, the leather of his glove cold against her skin. The pressure of his fingers made it hard to breathe.
Her feet left the ground as he lifted her like she weighed nothing. Through tear-blurred eyes, she saw a cloaked woman watching impassively.
“Proceed as planned,” Khorrek growled. “I’ll deal with this one.”
The woman nodded and slipped away.
“Now what did you hear, female?” he demanded, removing his hand from her mouth but leaving it close enough to muffle any attempt to cry out.
“Nothing,” she whispered.
“Do not lie to me.”
The hand on her arm tightened, the threat implicit.
“Just voices,” she stammered. “I didn’t hear any names.”
He leaned in closer, the tips of his tusks inches from her face, and studied her face. She did her best to look innocent, but her heart sank when he shook his head.
“I can’t take the chance. You’re coming with me.”
“No!”
He clamped his hand over her mouth again and began walking, half-dragging her along with him. She struggled, kicking at his legs, but her attempts had no effect. He was so strong, his muscles bulging beneath his armor. Her nails scrabbled uselessly against his gloved hand as he carried her away from the garden. The overgrown branches whipped past her face, catching at her dress and hair.
She tried to focus on breathing through her nose, fighting back the blackness creeping at the edges of her vision. But the pressure of his hand, the way he held her immobile against his chest - it was too familiar, too much like before. Her lungs burned as she struggled to draw enough air.
He tugged her through a concealed doorway in the convent’s wall and sunlight gave way to dense forest shadows. The sweet floral scents of the garden disappeared, replaced by damp earth and rotting leaves.
Each step jolted through her body. Her muscles screamed in protest as she twisted against his iron grip, but the more she struggled, the tighter he held her. His fingers dug into her flesh, and the pressure of his hand made it impossible to cry out.
Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision as the forest pressed in around them - ancient trees with gnarled trunks and heavy branches that blocked out most of the sun. She couldn’t tell how far they’d gone but every step away from Lothar sent a fresh wave of panic through her body.
The memories she’d fought so hard to bury came rushing back - rough hands holding her down, the terror of being trapped with no way out. No. Not again. She wouldn’t let it happen again.
With renewed desperation, she thrashed and kicked, not caring if she hurt herself in the process. Her elbow connected with something solid and Khorrek cursed. His grip loosened for just a moment before he suddenly released her.
She hit the ground hard, fallen leaves cushioning her fall but the impact still drove the air from her lungs. She gasped, dragging in huge gulps of air as she scrambled backward through the leaves.
Khorrek was doubled over, his hands pressed against his abdomen. She could hear him cursing, and a trickle of satisfaction ran through her. She hadn’t done enough damage to free herself, but at least she’d hurt him.
His head came up, eyes blazing, as she pushed herself to her feet, leaves clinging to her dress.
“Female,” he snarled, his voice a terrifying growl.
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “But you shouldn’t have taken me.”
To her shock, he suddenly laughed.
“Such fire in you, little one. Most females would be crying by now.” He cocked his head, studying her with unsettling interest. “Perhaps I should keep you for myself. “
“Never,” she hissed, taking another step back, keeping her eyes locked on him. The forest pressed close around them, branches swaying in a chill breeze that raised goosebumps on her skin.
“You may change your mind. Now then.” He gestured down the narrow path he’d been following. “Are you going to walk, or do I need to carry you again?”
“Don’t touch me.” The words came out sharp and clear despite her racing pulse.
His laugh was darker this time.
“Then move.” He pointed down the path again. “That way.”
Her legs shook as she started walking, dried leaves crunching beneath her feet. The path twisted through the trees, each bend hiding what lay ahead. She did her best not to move too quickly, looking for any chance of escape. Lothar would be looking for her by now. She just had to stay alive long enough for him to find her.