To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(12)

That creature with the black eyes had made him uneasy, and he prayed he’d never have the misfortune of crossing paths with him again.

§

Jiandra wrapped her cloak around herself a little tighter, blinking against the cold winter wind that blew through the courtyard. It was snowing lightly, and the skies were a gray and forbidding backdrop for the grim outline of the palace gallows. She stood with the twins, watching as the guards hauled the cook out of the dungeon to face his punishment.

Terijin wore the crazed smile of a maniac as the guards pulled him up the steps of the platform. It sent a chill through Jiandra that had nothing to do with the cold. They made him stand on a large wooden crate while the executioner secured the rope around his neck, and two guards pulled the crate out from under his feet. Within minutes, it was over. His body ceased convulsing and swung limply in a circle, like a macabre pendulum.

“Come, Lahdli,” Yajna whispered near her ear, caressing her arm to warm her. “There’s nothing more to do here. He’ll hang until the afternoon, to make sure he’s dead. The guards will keep watch.”

Jiandra nodded, allowing him to escort her back inside the palace. They went upstairs to the library, where Yajna busied himself building a fire while Jiandra stood shivering in her cloak.

Shandri arrived with a tray of tea, leaving it on the low table in front of the couches.

Soon the fire was blazing high in the tall fireplace, and Yajna came to Jiandra’s side. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly to his chest, and kissed her hair. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

She rested her cheek against the black leather armor that covered his chest. “Yes, fine. There was just something about the expression on his face that was unsettling.”

Yajna caressed her back. “He had clearly gone mad. But I’m here, Lahdli. I know the Omaja protects you from physical harm, but I am here to protect your compassionate heart.”

Jiandra smiled, comforted by his warmth and his words.

“Terijin received his due punishment, and he won’t be here stealing from us and betraying our confidence any longer.”

“Yes. I’m relieved about that.”

“I love you, my precious wife.”

“I love you too, my valiant husband,” she replied.

§

Jiandra and the twins were finishing cleaning up the kitchen with their servants that evening when a guard rushed in. “Mahajin!”

Jiandra turned to see what was the matter, wiping her hands on a cuptowel.

The guard bowed to Yavi and Yajna. “The body is gone.”

“Whose body?” Yavi demanded, even though they all knew the answer.

“The cook, Sire. We cut him down a couple of hours ago and put him on a cart, and covered him up with a blanket so we could take the body outside the city and bury it tonight. Now it’s gone.”

Yajna frowned. “What do you mean? The entire burial cart is gone?”

“No, Sire, just the body. The blanket was rolled into a ball and shoved to the side.”

Yavi swore in Nandalan. “Now we’ve got grave robbers on our property? Why wasn’t anyone guarding the cart?”

“Sire, the cart was sitting by the gate. The gate guards were there, but they didn’t see anything.”

Yavi tossed his scrubbing cloth into the water bucket. “Let’s go. I want to see the cart.”

Yajna followed his brother, and Jiandra stayed behind with the servant girls to finish putting away the dishes. She suppressed a shiver. If Terijin’s body had truly disappeared, none of the possible explanations was a happy one. Either someone had stolen it—and in that case, who?—or he wasn’t really dead when they cut him down. It had been ten hours since they’d hanged him that morning. Had Terijin faked that whole time? Was that why his face wore a leering grin, even as he faced his own death?

The memory of Uman’s chillingly cruel, pale face as she’d seen it in Terijin’s thoughts loomed in her mind for a moment, causing the hair stand up on the back of her neck. She almost felt a presence in the room, as if Uman—or perhaps Terijin—were haunting her. She shook her head to dispel the feeling and refocused her attention on tidying the kitchen.

“All right, everything looks to be in order, girls.” Jiandra untied her apron. “You may retire for the evening.”

The three silver-haired serving girls curtsied with prim smiles. “Thank you, Your Highness,” they called out in lilting Nandalan accents, hurrying off to their quarters.

Suddenly Jiandra worried about sending them off alone, three young girls wandering around the darkened palace with such strange happenings afoot. She stepped into the center of the Great Hall. “Ciren? Are you there?” she called up to the balcony.

A guard’s face appeared over the railing. “No, Your Highness, it’s Tor. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing serious, I just… Is there a guard posted outside the women’s quarters tonight?”

“No, Your Highness. But we make rounds by there a couple of times a night.”

“Would you send someone to stand watch outside their quarters? At least until we know what happened to the cook’s corpse?”

“Yes, Your Highness. I’ll send Jorak right away.”

“Thank you, Tor.” Jiandra breathed a sigh of relief. They were blessed with the best guard detail any palace could ask for, and she wished they could afford to pay them better, as well as fill out their ranks with more men so they could have more time off.