To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(3)
Graciella pulled her pillow into her arms and hugged it snugly against her breasts, pretending it was Yavi she was holding and comforting. She was no longer the awkward fourteen-year-old he once knew; she had turned twenty in March. When she saw her brother-in-law again, it would be as a grown-up, and she intended to make sure he noticed she wasn’t a child anymore.
Imagining that meeting, a smile curved her lips, and she drifted off to sleep.
§
Two black-cloaked, hooded figures rode hard into the night along Ularian Road, stopping after a couple of hours to rest and water the horses by a creek, and then setting off again. They reached the site of the caravan attack within another hour, finding it just as their escaped guard had described: three palace guards dead, a few heads of the cabbage and other vegetables they’d packed strewn here and there amongst the patches of snow, and no sign of the carts or horses.
Yavi’s blood boiled as he surveyed the wasted food. Produce they had worked so hard to grow, had invested so much time and coin in. Here it was, carelessly flung along the roadside while families in Ularia were starving, waiting for that caravan to arrive.
Behind him, Yajna muttered an oath in Nandalan. “Shall we gather up what we can salvage here, brother? Pack it onto our horses and carry it into town?”
“No. The trail of those thieves is getting colder by the minute.” Yavi let himself down from Sikar’s back to look around, examine the wheel tracks and hoof prints. “They left the road, headed off to the north through these trees, took the wagons with them. We can move much faster than they can with those carts over the wooded terrain.”
“Let’s go, then.” Yajna guided his horse off the road, toward the trees.
Yavi mounted Sikar and followed him. They found a path of sorts through the woods and urged their horses into a gallop, flying through the darkened trees with only slivers of moonlight to light their way. After a while the trees opened up into a meadow, and they followed the cart tracks in the half-melted snow for another mile or two, until they came to another forest thick with trees. As they made their way through it, they caught sight of the faint glow of firelight ahead, and the brothers halted their horses in the dark shelter of the forest.
Yavi slipped silently to the ground, and Yajna followed suit. They tied the horses to some low-hanging branches and moved quietly through the trees until they saw the bandits’ camp just ahead, in a small clearing. There was a campfire glowing in the center, with a couple of tents pitched around the perimeter and the palace’s still-loaded carts and horses standing nearby.
There looked to be about eight men total at the campsite—five sitting around the fire, two others rifling through the contents of the carts, and one leaning against a tree trunk off to the side, some distance from the others. He was the only one who was alert for intruders. Yavi made eye contact with his brother, who nodded and strung his first arrow.
The arrow sliced through the air, struck the bandit who stood off by himself in the throat, cutting off his airway and ability to warn the others. He stiffened, then crumpled to the ground near the tree he’d been leaning on.
Two more arrows flew, hitting each of the two thieves in the back who were rummaging through the carts. The men sitting around the fire jumped to their feet, drawing their daggers. One of them rushed toward his horse, but Yajna took him out on the way with a fourth arrow.
Yavi drew his scimitars and rushed in for the attack, leaping into the air while swinging the blades in a double spiral that sliced the throats of two of the bandits who stood by the fire. Yavi’s hood fell back when he landed, and the remaining three men gaped at him.
“It’s one of the emperors!” a bandit gasped, backing up.
Another bandit turned to run. An arrow stopped him midflight, and he fell to the ground.
Yavi grabbed the nearest bandit by the throat, forcing him back a bit on his tiptoes. “I sent a caravan of food and supplies to help my people in Ularia, and you vermin—” he tightened his grip and pressed a dagger to the underside of the man’s jaw, “—slaughtered my guards and stole it? If you were hungry, all you had to do was send word to the palace for food and supplies. We would have shared what we could.”
“Sire…we…just work for Uman,” the man choked, holding onto Yavi’s wrist with both hands.
“Who’s Uman?”
“Our leader. I think you killed him. He was standing over there by the trees.”
Yavi glanced back to where the first man had fallen with Yajna’s arrow in his throat, and then addressed the bandit near the carts, who stood frozen with his hands in the air. “You. Re-hitch the carts to the horses. Move, or my brother’s arrow will find its mark.”
The nervous fellow hurried to do as requested.
Yavi released the man he’d been holding. “You and your friend here have two choices. You either help us drive our carts to Ularia, or we hang your carcasses on these trees for the birds to find.”
“We’ll drive,” the bandit responded.
Yavi pointed a finger of warning in his face. “Just so we’re clear, you go as our prisoners. If you try to escape on the way, we’ll execute you ourselves on the spot. And when we get to Ularia, you’ll be turned over to the local authorities. If you don’t care for that arrangement, we can fight it out here and now.”
“We’ll drive your carts, Sire.” The man held up his hands. “You’ll get no further resistance from us.”