To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(17)

“Enough!” Uman grabbed Terijin up by the front of his cloak and hauled him to his feet. “You are immortal now, you fool. Yavi’s swords can’t kill you.”

“But if he slices me open with his swords—what will happen, Sire?”

“You won’t die from those wounds, because you are already dead. In the future, you keep fighting until the enemy submits. The Zulfikars are mere mortals. We are the Vyrkune. The Undefeatable.”

Terijin nodded nervously. “Understood. But we will need many more Vyrkune to eliminate the Zulfikars, Sire.”

Uman paced away from him, then looked back. “Yes. I have a plan.”

§

The moon was high in the sky, and it was well after midnight when Yavi arrived at the White Palace driving Graciella’s coach. He signaled to the gate guards as he approached, and they swung the doors open for the carriage to pass through. Yavi drove it to the foot of the marble staircase leading up to the entrance of the palace, then leapt down from the seat to see about his feminine passenger.

When he opened the carriage door, he found her huddled tightly in her cloak, just waking up from sleep. The temperature had dropped quite a bit as they had traveled farther north into Nandala, and he knew she wasn’t accustomed to such cold winters.

Yavi reached inside the coach to grasp her hand. Her fingers were ice-cold in his warm ones. She stepped down out of the coach onto stiff legs, wobbling a bit, and held onto his arm for balance.

“Easy, there.” He steadied her with a hand at her waist. “You’ve had a long trip without resting. You must be exhausted.”

She smiled up at him, shivering. “Yes.”

He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms to warm her. “Let’s get you inside by a fire.” He placed her delicate hand into the crook of his arm as he glanced over his shoulder at the guard who stood at attention beside the coach. “Get Miss Graciella’s trunk and bring it inside.”

The guard nodded, and the stable boy took the coach to the stable to tend the horses.

Yavi escorted Graciella up the wide marble steps. At the top, Wolfan bowed and then swung open the doors for them. A young servant girl met them in the foyer and handed Yavi a candle. He took it, then spoke to her in Nandalan. “Bring warm water and a towel for the washstand in Miss Stovy’s room.”

He led Graciella through the Great Hall. She gazed up in wonder at the long, winding staircases with ornately carved balustrades leading up to impossibly high balconies overlooking the stark white marble of the pillars and floors of the Great Hall. The palace was as grand and magical as she remembered from six years ago when she was here for the wedding.

Yavi escorted her up the main staircase, glancing down at her face as they ascended. “Your sister will be eager to see you, but I don’t want to wake her and my brother and cause a ruckus tonight about your coach being attacked and me leaving without them to look for you. For now, I think it’s better if you rest.”

“Yes,” she agreed, her voice weary. “I can deal with my sister in the morning.”

Yavi led her down the long hallway in Yajna and Jiandra’s wing, then stopped to open the door to the room the servants had prepared for her. He led her inside and set the candle down on the night table, finding himself reluctant to let her go. He rubbed a hand over her fingers, still draped over his arm. “Your hand is like ice.”

Graciella shivered in her cloak, smiling up at him. “Yes.”

Her lower lip was plump and pink, and he caught himself staring at it before gently releasing her. “I’ll build a fire to get this room warmed up for you.”

She backed away, and he knelt to stuff the fireplace with a few logs and some kindling. That done, he struck the flint a few times, holding it against the twigs until they caught on fire in a couple of places. He watched the fire grow a moment, then backed up as the flames began to blaze with orange and gold.

When he turned around, he caught his young houseguest gazing at the tin tub that sat in a far corner of the room. “Would you like me to send for heated water for a bath?”

Rosy color stained her cheeks. “Oh, no; that’s all right. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no bother. You are family and I want you to be comfortable here. Treat it as your own home.”

“Oh, thank you, but I—”

There was a light tap at the door, and Yavi barked out a command to enter. The serving girl came in with a pitcher of water and a towel, curtsied quickly to him, then went to fill the washstand.

When she finished, Yavi gave her another order, and the girl bowed to him again before scurrying off. He turned to Graciella. “I told her to bring you something to eat. Are you sure you don’t want a heated bath?”

“No, honestly, I can wash up just fine in the washbasin there.”

There was another knock at the door. “Mahaj, it’s Ciren. I have Miss Stovy’s trunk.

“Enter.”

Ciren carried in the trunk, set it at the foot of the bed, bowed to Yavi, and left. Yavi glanced at his guest. “Do you need anything else tonight?”

She smiled, shyly moving closer to the fire to warm her hands. “Ah, no, I think I’m all set for bed now.”

Yavi looked away and cleared his throat. “Well, if that is all you need then, I’ll take my leave.”