Escape
CHAPTER TWO
Ajolt of the carriage wrenched me out of my daze.
“I cannot see a thing.” Every blueblood I had been near spoke of the Kingdom of Sycarious with reverence. Through the slats, all I saw was iron entwined with brush . . . my cage.
‘I think we’re here,’ Piper projected.
Her little paws clung to the edge of a small hole she’d managed to nibble into the wood while I’d been sleeping.
I rolled onto my knees and pressed my palms against the slats while Piper hopped over, climbed up to my shoulder, then wound around my neck, using her tail to balance.
Wheels creaked as the carriage jolted to a stop.
In the next breath, the door was whipped open, letting in piercing dusklight.
I winced, turning my face away from the sting.
A grip wound around my upper arm, dragging me out and causing the abrasive floor to scrape my legs.
It tore the hem of my ivory sleeping gown, and the scrape stung.
Pinpricks of pain assaulted my senses. Blinded by the light, I blinked quickly, forcing my vision to focus. Even so, the grip on my arm pulled me forward, my bare foot catching on something and causing me to stumble.
A lean man came into focus, his shoulders blocking out the worst of the sting in my eyes. He was dressed in an officer’s livery; the black coat looked to be a velvet fabric . . . The Guard only wore that uniform for ceremony.
“. . . Bjorn Estate is blessed to have brought the greatly awaited Vessel for our King.” Earl Clair’s simpering tone made my skin crawl. I’d never heard him sound so utterly pathetic. He spoke to a woman in a perfectly tailored coal-colored gown.
Piper chittered, clinging to my arm.
“Take that thing,” the woman in black addressed someone behind me.
I craned my neck and flinched into the officer to avoid the woman dressed in a serving uniform.
The frock all redblood servants wore was a simple pleated gown the shade of straw.
She reached for Piper again, and movement on her shoulder drew me to the small mouse. Her wraithling. I hugged Piper harder.
“Hand that creature over,” the officer holding my arm ordered, shaking me so hard it rattled my teeth together.
Would I ever see her again if they took her?
Panic squeezed my chest, and I wrenched my arm down, getting out of the officer’s grip, hugging her to my chest. Freedom was short-lived. He captured my shoulder and wrenched it back, forcing me to slam into him. Piper bit his hand, and I broke free again.
I ran.
As I sped over the hard cobblestones, my legs burned, but I did not stop until I reached the perfectly manicured lawn.
Shouts exploded from behind me, but I did not let them sway my focus.
If I was one thing, I was fast. I narrowed my eyes on the forest, thick enough that I could not see what was through it, but I could not slow.
“Close your eyes,” I ordered Piper, not having the luxury of closing mine.
I hunched my shoulders high to protect my face, but branches tugged at my sleeping gown and sliced my arms. All I could do was hiss, because stopping was not an option.
I broke through the other side of the compact foliage and onto another lawn, not letting my stride falter as I looked over my shoulder. It was only a line of trees.
‘I don’t think we can escape.’
I faltered at Piper’s comment. Ahead of us were various towering structures and a main road leading toward open gates. Trees stretched far to my right, but based on the iron gate slicing across it, I could only guess I’d eventually meet the barrier.
‘You must hide.’
I was already running toward the stable closest to the trees, breaths panting out of me. I could hide until nightfall . . . but Hollows.
What should I do?
A vise constricted around my throat.
If I turned around right now, would I be whipped?
What about Piper . . . She would be taken from me. I owed it to her to attempt to get her away.
I careened through one of the open barn doors. More cobblestones lead inside and became polished stone, rounding in both directions. I’d never seen a stable like this, but it worked in my favor—easier to hide and think.
I followed the thick sawdust path, my steps muffled by it. Horses snorted and neighed, serving as another barrier to hide my progress.
Straw mingled with manure, thickening the air with an aroma that roused feelings of melancholy. A memory of running through the stables while Arik chased me flashed briefly through my mind, enhancing the pressure in my chest.
A high-pitched shink echoed through the stalls.
I froze for a single beat, then ducked into a stall with a heap of straw bales.
Hugging Piper tighter, I took everything in.
The wooden ceiling had iron-framed windows allowing in the dusklight.
A horse in the stall next to the one I hid in whinnied, setting off the rest. I took the opportunity to peek toward the sound of steel sliding across metal.
Quietly inching toward the edge of the stall, I placed my palms against the wooden planks, then pressed my knees against one of the straw bales to hoist myself higher to look through the iron bars.
Just beyond, a stone’s throw away, sat a bare-chested man on a thick barrel, sharpening the blade of a sword.
I watched quietly, enthralled by the cords of muscles playing along his back that jumped and moved with every smooth, practiced motion. This man knew what he was doing and he loved doing it. Each draw of his sword glided with slow precision, an obvious care toward the craftsmanship.
He could kill me so easily; that much was clear.
The bale gave under my knee and I gasped, my palm slapping down on the bars to stop my fall. I sucked in a breath and went silent, as did the man, who had stopped his rhythmic movements. The silence was piercing. I had no doubt he was about to investigate.
Piper climbed down my side and hopped off me.
“Hide and do not dare come out,” I whispered so low that the purposeful stomp of my foot muffled my voice.
Getting to my feet, I hurried out of the stall, not wishing to be trapped when he approached, but as soon as I stepped out, I skidded to a stop.
The man had stood. He turned around, and the breath ripped out of my lungs.
Above the thick leather breeches tied by a belt wound of multiple thin strips of leather was a dented abdomen, making him look like a terrifying, chiseled statue. My eyes moved from the strong edges of his jawline to the stiff, curled lips which allowed sharp fangs to peek past his upper lip.
I jerked my shoulders up as if I could hide my neck.
The baring of his teeth grew, displaying the sharp points of his fangs in a sneer. Terror rendered me immobile. I could not breathe. Between one blink to the next, he stood before me. The movement was terrifyingly quick. Nothing I have ever seen moved with that speed.
Because of the distance, I hadn’t recognized how truly massive he was. A deep rumbling sound of disgust left him. The back of my neck strained with effort to look up at the towering immortal.
Those eyes. Piercing.
Thick, sooty lashes framed irises the color of dawnlight. Red spread outward from the pupil like a starburst colliding with gold.
Suddenly, his thumb settled against my jaw and his finger curled around the other side, hand so large the tips dug into the hollows of my cheekbones. His pupils moved over me, taking in my face with analytical sweeps.
Stories did not prepare me. They spoke of a towering, inhuman king, but what was before me was more imposing than any description could convey. Pale, chiseled with a power so potent, it was as if it lived and breathed under his skin.
Even the way he moved looked wrong.
My stomach dipped until I felt hollow. Every hair on my body stood on end.
His eyes narrowed on my Sigil. I expected to see something in his expression, but it remained bland.
“I-I—” I took a deep breath.
He did not let me try to finish. He grabbed me around the waist, arm banding against my midsection so I dangled against his side.
Thank Saints Piper hid. The ground was much farther down than it should have been.
Straw turned into cobblestones, then a clipped lawn.
His height allowed him to cover three times the pace that a normal man could.
Each step pushed against my belly.
‘Amara,’ Piper’s voice faded and I could no longer hear her. She must be more than a few paces away from me. I strained to look toward the stable and it had shrunk many sizes in the distance.
Every instinct screamed at me to be very, very still, but I turned back forward to watch as he strode in the same direction I’d run away from. How utterly pitiful. I thought I had managed to create more distance, but he devoured the length with his wide stride.
He barreled through the line of the trees, making leaves and branches smack into me. I flinched, sputtering at the lash of foliage colliding with my face. An officer shouted about me being found, but he did not approach the king. He would be stupid to approach with His Highness’s infamous temper.
A group stood on the steps of the obsidian castle, and now that I wasn’t blinking as though my life depended on it, the Citadel was easier to focus on. Up the steps, onyx stone columns framed the mahogany doors, which were massive and lined with iron.
I had thought Bjorn Estate was grand.
The group eyed him, some almost fearful. He strode to one of the Guard with gold embroidered into the edges of his black uniform, indicating a higher position. He took a step back at the Warlord’s approach, his heel thudding against the bottom step.
“I am sorry they lost her, Your Highness—” A sharp look from the Warlord silenced him. The Warlord dropped me, and my legs gave out at the sudden rush of sensation traveling to my feet.
Dread thickened in my throat while I could only gawk up at him. His Highness gripped my arm, lifting me to my feet in the same movement.
“You, saddle Abrax.” The Warlord did not offer another word, and he pulled me up the stairs leading to the entrance. He walked so fast that half the time he dragged me, each of his wide steps making it harder to catch my footing. Clenching my teeth tightly, I caged my angry shout.
Thick columns framed the main entrance to the Warlord’s Citadel, and the two looming doors were already wide open. From the sheer size of the high ceilings, I could tell everything had been tailor-made for him. Cool air wafted out from inside.
To the left of the foyer stood that same dark-haired woman from the courtyard—pale, fitted into a tight black dress.
She was the one who ordered the officers to grab Piper.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, an air of expectation clinging to her, but she did not say a word.
Her gaze stayed on the Warlord, lingering too long.
Evenly sized stones covered the floor. A dark polish coated them, making the stones seem reflective.
My bare toes told me the polished stone was not slippery, only freezing.
My ankle gave out, faltering under my screaming calf, but fortunately, we’d reached the stairs, and I was able to catch myself by grabbing onto the side of his belt.
His skin seared the back of my fingers, and he stopped so quickly I slapped my other hand on his hard abdomen to stop my slide off the edge of the stair.
My fingertips tingled from the steep drop.
The Warlord’s grip tightened until pain stung my arm.
Even with him glaring down at me, I did not let go. There was nothing else to hold on to, and with him dragging me like this, I was bound to slip and fall.
I panted, holding his angry gaze.
With a sound of disgust, he continued the rest of the way up the black, curving staircase that opened up to a slim rug. He followed the path to the end of the hall and took a sharp turn to the right where it wound into an open space with windows coating the far wall, iron crisscrossing the panes.
Dusklight peeked in, the hazy orange light casting over the polished floor. He passed an upholstered seat suitable for his size and reached behind it to the fireplace for a thick metal circle hanging on a hook.
It clanged as soon as he picked it up—it was a collar. He let me go, yanking my shoulder so I faced him, and in the same smooth motion, he snapped the iron around my throat, over part of my Sigil. I did not even have time to fight it.
But who was I fooling? I could not fight against him, much less succeed. With my next breath, he grabbed my arm and toted me over to an ankle-height spike poking out from the middle of the dark floor.
My eyes widened, and I went limp, but it did not work.
He did not release me. Pulse thundering in my ears, I struggled to breathe past the pressure compounding on my chest. Ivory caught my eye, and I let out a strangled shout, digging my feet against the hard floor.
Skulls stared at me from their perches embedded within the wall, framing the entire window where it met the stone of the building.
He crouched and reached for the iron link dangling from the loop on the spike. With one squeeze of his bare hand, he bent it open—wide enough to feed the last link of my collar’s chain through. Then he snapped a lock through both.
Once he stepped away, chains clanged on the ground.
Then—he left.
The same direction he’d dragged me in from. He simply . . . left.
With nothing, no looking back, no words. Nothing.
Like I was less than the scum on his boots.
He disappeared around the bend and finally I could breathe.
A hard gasp escaped my throat. I stumbled back; the chains clinked together before stopping me in place.
The length was less than my height. I reached for the collar he’d snapped around my neck, my hands trembling as I felt around and tugged.
The hard edge dug into my sensitive neck until it hurt, and it did nothing to soothe the throb in my chest.
Piper’s distance would ache more and more the longer she was away from me, but it would be manageable as long as it did not cross a moon rotation . . . Otherwise, it would mean my death.
She must be terrified, and I could do nothing to help her—comfort her. My lungs constricted to drag in more breaths, but even that was hard. I dropped to my bottom as if there were strings holding me upright that had suddenly been clipped.
When my Sigil appeared, I knew nothing good would come of it, but the reality of the cold, fanged king with evil eyes was much worse.
I tucked my legs up to my chest and watched the doorway. My only hope was that Piper had managed to stay hidden.