Chapter 4
Water flooded her lungs, a flaring wave that cascaded through her chest as she desperately gasped for air that would not come.
Muffled shouts echoed throughout the cavern.
Adara thrashed violently beneath her assailant’s hold.
Fingers tightened around her hair, yanking her up from the pool of water.
She gasped, fresh air burning in her lungs.
Water sprayed from her lips in a cough, fighting for the breath knocked out of her as she slammed into the ground.
Rough calluses scraped her skin, thick hands tightening around her neck.
Adara blinked rapidly through the haze of pain and wet hair plastered to her face.
Her wrists ached beneath the weight of someone’s knees, unable to reach for her weapons.
Shoulder-length blond hair curtained a tan face.
Caramel eyes were alight with malice. A twisted sneer painted his mouth.
His nose was crooked, as if previously broken a few too many times, and a jagged scar marred his face stretching from beneath his eye down through his lips.
She struggled beneath him and his fingers clenched harder, nails biting into her neck.
Shouts rang out, sounding from a distance, yet Adara knew they were from the blurred figures crowded behind her attacker.
Black spots faded in and out of her vision, mingling with the blurred colorful gems in the stone ceiling.
“Knock it off. You’ll kill her,” someone said.
Her assailant ignored it. The noose of his fingers cinched until Adara’s eyes fluttered closed and her body fell limp. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t fight back unless she used her powers. It would be so easy to kill them all in an instant, but she refrained. She would not reveal her abilities yet.
The yelling crescendoed, calling out for him to stop, but his stranglehold did not release.
Adara tried to calm her racing heart, to fight the panic flooding her.
How many times had she been through something like this?
Brought to the brink of death to see how she’d break.
Pain was a nuisance, secondary to the lethal calm that settled deep within her bones in the face of death.
Adara continued to let them believe they had won, her insides crying out in agony, fighting for the breath of life, but her body was still.
“Tyson, stop,” one of the Andreilians demanded. “Lest you want to explain to Dominic why you killed his shot at another key.”
Her attacker, Tyson, let out a disgruntled noise.
His grip loosened around her neck, his weight lifting from her slowly.
Air filled her lungs, its taste cool and refreshing.
Her eyes shot open to Tyson hovering over her.
She knocked that malicious grin off his scarred face with a kick between his legs.
Her ankle barked in protest as she leaped to her feet, sending a powerful punch to his jaw as he doubled over with a groan.
The ache in her knuckles was hardly noticeable.
When Tyson stumbled, she shoved him to the ground, drawing Infinova in one swift motion.
He was too busy writhing in pain from her kick to the groin to notice the tip of the sword at his neck. “Stupid bitch,” he groaned.
The whine of blades being drawn and the groan of bowstrings pulled taught sounded behind her. Adara rolled her eyes, stepped away from Tyson and sheathed her sword. She raised her hands in a show of surrender as they circled her, about a dozen of them total.
“Relax,” she said with an air of confidence she didn’t exactly feel, “I’m not going to harm you.”
One of the Andreilian's icy blue eyes darted to Tyson still recovering on the ground. His white hair shone like snow beneath the sunlight. “What do you call that then?” he said.
“Except him,” Adara amended. “In fact, I need your help.” She scanned their faces for the one she’d met earlier in the jungle, the one who directed her toward the enchanted water atop the mountain.
The familiar face was nowhere to be seen and Adara wondered if he’d already been killed for helping her.
A few snickered and rolled their eyes.
“And why would we help you?” another said in a haughty tone, sword twirling at his side. He had dark skin and long black hair that flowed down his back in thick braids. The sleeveless vest he wore displayed muscular arms painted with tattoos.
“Because all you have to do is what you planned anyway: bring me to Dominic Nite,” Adara replied.
“Is she insane?” one with curly blond hair, mace resting on his shoulder, whispered to another by his side.
The other boy ignored him, blue eyes fixed on her down the shaft of his drawn arrow. But not with a menacing glare like the others. He merely stared at her with curiosity.
Adara narrowed her eyes at the blond. “Perhaps, but none of this would work if I weren’t.”
Another stepped forward. A double-edged battle axe rested casually on his shoulder.
“What do you want with Dominic?” he asked, tone austere, dark eyes scrutinizing her as if he could read her intentions by staring at her long and hard enough.
This Andreilian, she noted, was the one Tyson had listened to when told to stop hurting her.
He must be the one in charge, Second to the King of Keys.
Adara folded her arms over her chest in defiance. “Take me to him, and you’ll find out.”
“Fine,” he spat. “Tyson, Desmond,” he said with a jerk of his head toward her.
The one that had attacked her and the one with braids were upon her in an instant, roughly yanking her arms behind her back.
Tyson drew a knife from his belt, lightly tracing her bruised throat as the other, Desmond, held her arms firmly. “It’s too bad Ace didn’t let me kill you.”
Adara’s eyes darted to the one she assumed was the second-in-command, committing each new name and face to memory.
“Whatever fun I had planned will be dull in comparison to Dominic.” Tyson brushed the tip of the blade down her cheek.
“Put the knife away,” Ace ordered, brown eyes locked on them, calm and commanding.
“Fine.” Tyson sheathed the blade. His eyes flickered with sadistic amusement as he bent down to her ear. “I’ll gladly watch as Dominic tears you apart.”
Adara rolled her eyes and bit back a string of threats as they shoved her into motion, intent on bringing her to the Thief of Hearts.
Another boy approached her side and grabbed onto her arm. “Shut up and keep walking,” he said, gently tugging her along with him.
Adara was about to retort when she realized his jarring words and glare were aimed at Tyson. The latter grumbled something and fell to the back of the pack.
“You, too,” the boy said to Desmond, who shot him an irritated expression but released her nonetheless.
Adara noted the boy’s light grip, fingers gently brushing her bicep.
She could easily escape if she wanted to.
She glanced over at him, taking in his expression.
He appeared to be about seventeen. Adara knew he was certainly older than that, having lived with the magic of Andreilia’s water, keeping him young.
Fluffy brown hair shadowed his forehead above light blue eyes like the ocean on a sunny day.
The bow he had trained on her moments earlier now hung limply at his side.
His features were relaxed, impassive, like he didn’t so much as care about what was going on.
But his lips were softly upturned, not in a smirk about leading her to her death, but a tender smile permanently gracing his face that suggested kindness.
Limping through the woods, it became more difficult to ignore the pain in her ankle.
It must have begun bleeding again because her leg felt warm, damp.
Every time she stumbled, the boy at her side held her tighter, lifting her with fluent ease, subtle enough to go unnoticed by the others.
Adara was grateful that he bolstered her weight, but her insides churned, unsure why he was helping her.
Perhaps he felt sorry for her, wanted to show her one last act of kindness before handing her over to Dominic’s merciless slaughter.
The longer they hiked, the less Adara recognized from her map.
They must have ventured into the half that was blank.
Giant verdant leaves cast shadows over small critters scurrying about the forest floor.
In stark contrast to the darkness that loomed from the thick canopy of trees towering overhead, vibrant flowers blossomed, petals glittering even in the darkest corners of the island.
Adara stopped in her tracks as a fox skittered by.
Her eyes transfixed on the strange creature, admiring the emerald scales that covered the orange fur of its skull and spine like armor.
Two figures bumped roughly into Adara and the Andreilian walking with her. “Keep moving,” Desmond grunted and shoved her forward, causing the boy to stumble with her.
She gritted her teeth, locking away the noises of pain threatening to spill from her lips as her ankle buckled beneath her.
“Come on, Asher, leave her to the mutants,” Tyson said to the boy holding her arm.
“No,” Ace demanded. He led the group with assured steps, shoulders rolled back, head held high, like she was some sort of trophy. Like she was the prey they hunted and brought back for slaughter.
Eventually, they reached a glade, slowing to a stop at a camp.
In the center, a large ashen area was surrounded by logs and tree stumps.
She assumed it was for hosting roaring bonfires and feasts.
A few tents were pitched on the forest floor, but most of their life, it seemed, occurred in the trees.