Chapter 9 #2
To get to the gate, they needed to push through the well-lit crowd gathered around two girls who danced in a manner that left little to imagination. Liana kept her head down, trailing in Amron’s wake, holding his hand.
But before they could slip away, a voice from the crowd said, “Where have you been hiding, Amron? People will think you’re not happy for me.”
Amron froze. Behind him, Liana peered around to see the unwelcome interruption. Amril blocked their path, flanked by a couple of young men. He’d drunk a lot that evening, and yet he stood firm, his eyes glinting with a mischief awfully akin to malice.
“I’m thrilled for you,” Amron said. “But now you must excuse me, I have some urgent business at the palace.”
“Urgent?” Amril stepped around his brother, his eyes finding Liana hiding in Amron’s shadow. “Oh, I see now. You need to pin her down before she comes to her senses.”
Amron didn’t swallow the bait, didn’t mention what Liana had told him. He just said, “We need to go.”
Amril ignored him. “What do we have here?” He gripped Liana’s arm and pulled her into the light. “Quite exquisite. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“Amril, please,” Amron said. “I need to talk to her.”
“You don’t want my brother.” Amril’s hand slid around Liana’s waist. She’d never met him before: By the time Amron had found her, his brother was dead, his memory consecrated by his untimely demise, distilled into an image of a golden prince.
The real Amril was as attractive as the story claimed: slightly taller than Amron, bulkier, flamboyant.
His demeanor, though, oozed something small and mean, unfit for a prince.
“Amron is a cold, dour fish. Come with me.”
“Amril, for gods’ sake, the garden is filled with girls. Leave this one to me.”
“The other girls are boring, I’ve had them all.” Amril caught Liana’s chin, turned her face to the light. “But this one is new and fresh and gorgeous, and I choose her.” His thumb caressed her lips. “This is my party, after all, and I get to pick first.”
“Is there a problem, Your Highness?” Lady Celandina materialized beside them, shooting a cold, hard stare at Liana.
“No, we just had a small misunderstanding,” Amril said.
“I usually prefer to be more subtle and let certain things occur naturally, but this time I’m going to be perfectly clear.
I want your new girl, I want her for myself, I want her for my friends, and I want her until dawn.
My brother can watch, if he feels like it. ”
Lady Celandina bit her lip, obviously torn between her wish to please the prince and her conscience. “Your Highness, the girl is still new. She might not be ready.”
“Are you running a whorehouse, Celandina, or a girls’ school?”
Everybody in the garden gathered around them to watch the scene.
All the while, Liana balled her fists in frustration, nails biting into the soft flesh, reminding herself that pushing Amril away would make everything infinitely worse.
She shot a brief glance at Amron, registering the absolute horror on his face.
Amril scanned the crowd, challenge clear in his eyes. He was just waiting for someone to stand up to him. But all the high-and-mighty young bucks avoided his gaze, too cowardly to challenge him, too selfish to defend an insignificant girl.
Lady Celandina tried to disperse the tension.
A discreet wink sent her girls to the men surrounding them to draw their attention away, diluting the crowd.
She offered a fresh glass to Amril. “I’ll prepare the girl if you want me to, but she’s so new I haven’t had the opportunity to teach her.
” She shrugged in a mock apology. “Knowing your tastes, Your Highness, you’ll find her dull. ”
“Shut up, Celandina.” Amril turned to Amron, the crown prince’s smile shockingly ugly on his handsome face. “Amron, you’re pale. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Amron’s voice was so quiet it barely reached Liana’s ears. “No, I’m not. I’m angry and humiliated. Well done. Now will you please let her go and get back to your friends and your girls?”
Amril pulled Liana closer. “I’ll let her go in the morning. I don’t know what you’re fussing about. There’ll still be plenty left for you to enjoy. Celandina’s girls are tougher than they look.” He bowed down to kiss her.
Suddenly, it was too much for Liana to bear: the whiff of alcohol, his hard fingers on her back. She pushed him away. He grabbed her shoulder. Then Amron was between them, pulling her back, his fist a blur aimed at his brother’s jaw. Amril’s head flew back, spit spraying out of his mouth.
Silence dropped on the garden like a lead plate.
Amron grabbed her hand. “Run!” he said.
They ran to the gate just as Amril roared with pain and one of the girls screamed.
Amron pulled her out onto the street and through a maze of dark alleys.
Her heart beat so hard she thought her chest would explode.
The silk slippers Lady Celandina had given her were ill-suited for running on the slippery cobbles.
“Stop!” she pleaded. “Stop!”
They stopped in the shadow of a large building, leaning on the wall, catching their breath. Amron shook his right hand with a painful grimace. His knuckles were bloody. “Ouch.”
“Is it broken? May I see it?”
He let her take his hand, wincing as she inspected the bones.
“It’s fine, I think. Just bruised a bit.” She looked up. “I’m sorry I caused all that trouble for you.”
“Don’t be. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.” He let out a surprised chuckle. “I feel drunk, light as a feather. I should hit my brother more often.”
Liana smiled. “I’ll make a ruffian out of you if you’re not careful.”
He laughed in earnest. “I’d let you do whatever you please with me.” He paused, shocked by the words that had slipped out of his mouth, and looked down.
She laid her palm on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, his quick breathing.
“Liana,” he said. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.
She let her body lean towards him until their hips met. He was hot with exertion, rigid with tension.
“Amron.” His name rolled off her tongue, sweet like pomegranate syrup. Her fingers touched his cheek, guiding him to her.
Abruptly, he lifted his head, looking behind her, and his expression changed. “We’re not alone,” he said.
She turned to see half a dozen people materialize out of the shadows.
At first she thought Amril’s friends had followed them, but then her brain caught up and her stomach dropped.
A long-forgotten terror sent a shiver down her spine as she recognized the embossed leather vests, the broad belts, the wide pants gathered at the ankles.
The dark scarves wrapped around their heads and over their noses to stave off dust. Seragians.
Each one of them brandished a long, curved blade.
In Abia, where any weapon longer than a hunting knife was forbidden during the wedding celebrations.
“Get behind me,” Amron whispered. He had nothing but a dagger on his hip.
The Seragians moved in a wide semicircle, cutting their route of escape.
“It’s the wrong prince,” someone said in the language Liana had hoped never to hear again.
Their leader appraised Amron and Liana with dark eyes gleaming under two exquisitely curved eyebrows. “He will do. His whore as well, don’t let her get away.”
Amron could speak Seragian, she knew. “I’ll distract them,” he whispered. “You go and get help. There’s guards at every corner.”
She nodded.
“Help!” he called. “Guards!” He lunged at the nearest man. The Seragian swung his blade, but Amron pivoted, stabbed the man between the ribs, and snatched his weapon.
Wooden shutters opened somewhere above their heads.
“Help!” Liana screamed. “Call the guards!”
Amron was armed now, but he was still facing five attackers closing in. Liana couldn’t leave him alone. By the time she returned, he’d be dead.
She didn’t know if she could die in this past the gods had sent her to, and she didn’t care.
She was faster than any mortal, and stronger than most of them; she’d been a huntress all her life.
She ran into the melee kicking and biting like a rabid fox.
She broke one man’s nose, kicked another in the throat.
A hand grabbed her hair, pulled her head back.
A pair of coal-black eyes met hers, and darkness rushed at Liana, engulfing her in a cloud of miasma. She choked, unable to breathe.
Amron pushed between them, elbowing the leader in the chest. Liana jumped back, filling her lungs with fresh air, and kicked the Seragian approaching Amron from behind.
The man swung his yatagan at Liana, forcing her to sidestep and narrowly avoid the blow.
On her left, another Seragian lunged at Amron, but he was ready and knocked the attacker off-balance.
“On your right!” Liana screamed as the leader swung at Amron one more time. The Seragian’s aura, darker than the shadows in the street, wrapped him like a cloak. His movements were strange, as if he wasn’t—
A hard punch landed between Liana’s shoulder blades. She fell and rolled on the ground to avoid the yatagan. Two attackers closed in, their movements practiced—these weren’t some ragged bandits, but trained soldiers. One was limping, though, favoring the knee Amron had kicked.
Amron was still fighting the leader, locked in a deadly dance. Their blades flashed in the weak light. The Seragian whose nose Liana had broken was leaning on the wall, spitting blood, but the one she’d kicked in the throat was sneaking closer to Amron.
Liana kicked the limping man in the injured knee, sending him down, and grabbed his yatagan.
She turned to face the other one, but at that moment, Amron cried out and stumbled.
The leader swung at him. Amron parried and pushed him away, barely fast enough, just as the other Seragian rushed at him from behind.
Liana roared and threw herself at the man, opening a deep gash across his arm.
The man screamed and retreated from her furious attack.
Amron was fighting two men now, the wall at his back, his attackers closing in.
Liana’s last opponent was nursing his injured arm.
The one Liana had snatched the blade from now rose and pulled a dagger, but instead of attacking her, he joined his comrades surrounding Amron.
The prince was the main target, Liana was just a nuisance.
“No,” Liana cried and ran towards them. She stepped in the dead man’s blood, and her useless silk slippers slid on the wet cobbles. As she fell, Amron shouted her name.
They were going to get killed.
Above them, faces peered through the open windows, the good people of Abia always happy to watch a bloody show. Their doors remained firmly shut, though. No help was coming from that quarter.
Liana scrambled up, hands slick with blood, and charged at the leader, ignoring his putrid darkness. The Seragian’s eyes were unnaturally bright, filled with murderous frenzy as he turned to face her.
“Stop right there!” someone shouted. A thud of heavy boots on the cobbles.
The Seragian leader risked a glance down the street, at the approaching guards. Calculation flickered in his dark eyes. Behind him, Amron was still on his feet, doggedly fending off the blows.
“Come on, you coward,” Liana challenged the Seragian, raising her blade. But he ignored her, turning away.
“Go!” A growled command in Seragian and their attackers dispersed, fleeing to the side alleys, leaving their fallen comrade on the ground.
In a heartbeat, Amron and Liana were alone again.
“Gods.” Amron fell to his knees, catching his breath. His shirt was stained with blood.
Liana dropped her weapon and ran to him. “Are you wounded?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
The guards caught up with them. A handful ran after the Seragians. The rest moved aside to let a man in a slightly more elaborate uniform pass.
“Your Highness, I didn’t expect to find you here. Are you all right?” the man said.
“A bit bruised and quite furious,” Amron said. “Thank you for saving my skin, Captain. I was looking for you. This young woman has something to tell you.”
The captain’s gaze fell on Liana. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said.