To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(26)

Thunderous shouts of approval.

“Nandala is a frozen wasteland, and it will always be a frozen wasteland. Together, my brothers, we will eliminate the Zulfikars, take the throne of Nandala, and enlist every starving Nandal farmer into the Vyrkune. We will descend upon Villeleia like a ravenous pack of wolves. We will rip her little queen and her complacent generals to shreds. And then we will live in their castles, enslave their people to feed our appetites, and reap Villeleia’s spoils forever.”

Loud cries of agreement rose from his audience.

He paced to a position in front of the altar. “This, however, requires sacrifice. It requires resolve. Not all of you are fit to be Vyrkune.”

They quieted down, watching him. He knew he had them in the palm of his hand.

“Most of you have sworn your allegiance to me as the true heir of the throne. Some of you have taken the oath of the Vyrkune and drunk the elixir. Some, but not all. My true followers, those who will rule with me here in Nandala as well as in Villeleia, must take the oath to become Vyrkune. I will not extend my hand in friendship forever. My army of Vyrkune must rise, and soon. We must stamp out the Zulfikar line while they are the last two living heirs, leaving nothing to chance.” Uman raised his fists and shouted, “Who is with me?”

A deafening cry arose from the assembly.

Uman turned to Terijin. “Open the book of the oath.”

§

It was early afternoon by the time the coach reached the top of Mount Solara, escorted by Yavi and Yajna on their horses. Graciella peered out the window of the carriage at the Tylvan monastery as they came to a halt, and surveyed the ancient stone columns carved with intricate symbols and designs unlike any she’d ever seen.

The carriage door opened, and Yavi reached in to help her out. She took his hand for support as she stepped out onto the ground, pulling her cloak tighter around herself in the chill of the high altitude. There was a mist surrounding the area, and all was silent save the snorting and prancing of their horses.

Jiandra came closer to say something under her breath. “We have to ask the monks if Rafe can be seen today.”

“Do they ever say no?” Graciella whispered back.

“Sometimes, if Rafe isn’t feeling…calm.”

Yavi issued a command to the coach driver, and then he and Yajna escorted her and Jiandra up the steps to the entrance of the monastery. Stone archways led off into various walkways and staircases, and the high walls of the courtyard were covered in lush vines. The place almost appeared to be vacant at first, but as they approached an inner staircase and began to ascend, the faint, haunting sound of melodious chanting reached Graciella’s ears. She tightened her grip on Yavi’s strong arm and sidled closer to him, feeling cold and a little intimidated.

At the top of the stairs, there was a stone portico shielding the entrance to a sanctuary with large wooden doors. Yajna reached forward to open one of them so they could step inside.

Pale light filtered into the room through high, narrow windows, sending shafts of light over the thirty or so monks who were kneeling in prayer on woven mats, their heads covered by hooded cloaks. The leader at the front signaled a halt to the chanting. All the monks rose as one and turned to bow in reverence to the twins, who each inclined their heads in response.

The leader walked through their ranks to speak with the visitors. He removed his hood, revealing long silver hair, a silver beard, and kind gray eyes framed with wrinkles. He pressed his palms together and bowed deeply to the twins. “Mahajin, it is an honor.”

They bowed to him in the same manner. “Master Volkan,” Yavi responded.

Yajna added, “The honor is ours.”

The elder monk turned to Jiandra. “Honored Queen. You are here to see your brother.”

“Yes, Master Volkan,” she answered softly. “And may I present my sister, Graciella.”

Graciella extended her hand to him with a nervous smile.

Master Volkan took her hand, his face breaking into a full grin as he gazed at her face. “Grace and light,” he murmured in his lilting Nandalan accent. “Fitting name for such a lovely, pure-hearted spirit.”

Graciella chuckled and glanced at her companions self-consciously.

Master Volkan held onto her hand. “You, my dear, bring good fortune to Nandala. Yes. You bring hope.”

“Thank you, Master.” She felt an instant closeness to the elderly monk; she wanted to hug him, call him Grandfather, be adopted by him on the spot.

He almost appeared as if he wanted to say more, but instead he simply squeezed her hand once more before releasing it and turning to Jiandra. “Your brother has been in seclusion today, but I will go and tell him you are here.”

“Thank you,” Jiandra said.

He left, and the other monks filed out of the sanctuary, leaving the four visitors alone.

Graciella looked up at Yavi. “This place is so peaceful. It’s beautiful here.”

“Yes. I have fond memories of this place. Yajna and I were sent here as part of our assassin training in the Black Armies,” he explained. “We were trained by Master Volkan in mysticism.”

She nodded. “I liked him.”

“I’ve never seen him smile so much.” Yavi chuckled. “He obviously liked you as well.”

Jiandra touched Graciella’s arm to interrupt. “What a wonderful compliment he gave Gracie.”