To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(50)

“Oh, Gods.” She sat up, shocked and repulsed by that thought. “Maybe I don’t love him at all. Maybe I’m just a selfish, sexually deranged pervert.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, she moved off the bed and sank onto her knees on the rug beside it, folding her hands in prayer. “Lord Zehu, if you can hear me, please forgive me. Help me be brave enough to admit to Yavi what I’ve done and strong enough to accept his disappointment and mistrust.” For how could he ever trust her again once he knew the truth?

Master Volkan’s words now echoed mockingly in her mind. Grace and light, he’d called her. Bringing hope to Nandala, he’d said. And what had she done? Had she brought anyone any hope? No, only pain. Poor Yavi was just beginning to come out of his shell and smile a bit, even laugh occasionally, and now he lay in his room, sick off the herb she’d poisoned him with.

She pictured her utter shame at having to tell him the truth, and decided it was her just punishment. But what if he decided that she should be sent back to Villeleia right away? Her heart would break at having to part with him so soon, especially under such foul circumstances. Jiandra would be upset with her, too. And her sister would have to bear her little child without Graciella’s help or moral support.

Jiandra has Yajna, who’s true and honest. She doesn’t need her conniving little sister here when she gives birth.

Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as she realized that whatever the consequences, she had to confess her crimes to Yavi. Tomorrow, preferably before her sister and Yajna returned.

She got ready for bed, blew out her candle, and crawled under the covers to cry herself to sleep.

§

Father!

Graciella sat up straight in bed. Had she dreamed the voice had returned? The room was completely dark except for the shaft of moonlight pouring in through an open window. She lowered her feet over the side of the mattress, slipped on her house shoes, and hurried to close the window and latch it.

Father, he killed me.

“Who’s there?” She whirled around, trying to see in the dark shadows of her bedroom. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she made out a pale figure, a boy about ten or eleven, standing by her armoire.

“Who are you?” she asked.

He killed me.

“Who killed you?”

Uman.

Graciella crept a little closer, to confirm whether he was real or imagined. “Who’s Uman?” she asked gently.

My brother. Suddenly the boy’s face altered, changing to a leering, demonic grin with glowing yellow eyes and sharp, blackened teeth.

Graciella screamed and jumped back.

He laughed, a gravelly, chilling laugh, and she ran past him to throw open the door.

She slammed the door shut behind her and ran as fast as she could down the hallway toward Yavi’s wing. There were no guards or servants in sight, so she kept running until she reached the Emperor’s door.

She pounded on it with both fists, looking over her shoulder, praying the evil spirit wasn’t standing right behind her. “Sire, it’s Graciella. Something’s in my room!” She pounded again.

The door opened. He stood there in his slippers and a hastily thrown-on dressing robe, the emperor’s ruby dangling against his muscular chest. “What is it?”

“It’s—it’s the child who was saying ‘Father.’ He was standing right by my armoire. He claimed someone named ‘Uman’ killed him. Then he transformed into a gruesome demonic spirit of some sort, right before my eyes.”

“Uman?” He stepped into the hallway and grasped her hands in his. “You’re shaking like a leaf. Here, wait inside my room while I go inspect.”

“No! I don’t want to be alone in here either.”

“Would you rather come with me?”

“Yes.”

He closed his door and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “All right. Let’s go see if he’s still there and find out what he wants.”

She nodded, hoping he couldn’t feel her heart pounding as if it were about to break free from her chest as they walked.

Once they arrived at her door, she hung back. “He was standing right beside my armoire. I swear it wasn’t a dream, Sire. I’m…I’m not lying.” This time, she thought ruefully.

“I know you aren’t lying, because you mentioned the name Uman.”

“Who’s Uman?”

“It’s a long story.” He opened her door, poking his head in to look around. “I don’t see anything. I’ll go in and light a candle.” He looked back over his shoulder at her. “You coming in, or staying out?”

“I’ll stay out here.” She grabbed the sleeve of his robe. “But don’t close the door, so I can see you.”

“I won’t.” He swung the door open wide and went in to find her candle and the tinderbox beside her bed. He looked over his shoulder at her. “Hey, did you know all your windows are open?”

“All of them?” The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Suddenly her bedroom door slammed shut in her face, and she yelped.

Yavi opened it. “That was the wind blowing in. Hold the door open while I close the windows.”

She braced a hand against the door and peered into the room. “They were all closed when I left my room just now. One blew open when the spirit came in, but I shut and latched it. Those windows were all shut when I left.”