To Seduce An Assassin (The Omaja Series Book 2)(71)

She was gone.

§

Graciella struggled to calm her racing heartbeat, breathing hard against the gag the two creatures had tied around her mouth. She had no idea where they were taking her, since they’d stuffed her inside a crate on the back of a cart and nailed the lid shut, but they’d been traveling for hours over bumpy roads. In the past several minutes the terrain had grown even more uneven, and she could hear the wheels of the cart crunching over snow, dried leaves, and twigs.

She didn’t know what her two kidnappers were, but they were definitely not human. They had solid black disks for eyes, and their pale faces were cracked and broken here and there with jagged red scars as if the skin was stretched too tightly or peeling away from their skulls. Their leering grins revealed sharp, blackened teeth dripping with fresh blood.

They hadn’t said anything to her. They’d simply broken the door down, stared her up and down, then lunged forward to grab her before she’d had a chance to use any of the sword-attack techniques Yavi had taught her. She’d been too caught off guard by their grisly appearance to react quick enough. They had tossed her sword to the stone floor, gagged her, lashed her wrists and ankles together with ropes, and carried her past her dead guards down a back staircase and outside the palace. They hauled her past a couple more guards’ corpses and out the back gate, where they had the cart waiting.

Since they had taken her alive, she figured they were planning to use her as bait to entrap the emperors. No doubt they were involved with the rebellion somehow. Graciella prayed that the twins and her sister were all right, and that they’d find her soon. Clinging to the hope of a rescue, she waited for the long, frightening ride to come to an end.

When at last the cart came to a stop, Graciella heard movement, things shifting around on the cart, and then the sound of a tool being used to pry the crate open. Splinters of wood showered down over the side of her face and her bare arm.

Moonlight streamed in as the creatures tossed the lid of the crate aside. The taller one muttered something to the other in Nandalan as they untied her ankles and scooped her out of the crate, setting her on her feet on the ground. The tall one grasped her arm in a vise-like grip, pointing and saying something to his accomplice about the cart. The accomplice bowed, then led the horses toward the trees nearby while Graciella’s captor took her to what looked like a dilapidated tower.

Relief washed over her at seeing the structure—the twins had been on the right trail to suspect something about an abandoned tower. They would surely be able to find her here soon. The creature led her through an archway into what remained of the bottom floor of the tower, pulled her with him between two stone pillars, and shoved aside a broken door, leaving it leaning against the wall nearby. Behind it was a dark entrance that led down a musty staircase. She struggled to keep up with the creature’s pace and not trip on the stairs as he dragged her inside with him. They descended into the stale darkness for several minutes, lower and lower into the dungeon.

At the bottom of the stairs, he pushed open a heavy wooden door and dragged her into a large room lit with torches, shoving her toward the center. She managed to maintain her footing, then whirled around to face him.

“At last we meet, younger Stovy sister,” he snarled in Villeleian. His voice was gravelly, demonic; his sinister grin stretched his sinewy cheek muscles taut, adding to the appearance of a half-decayed corpse. “Graciella, I believe?”

Graciella couldn’t speak due to the gag, so she just glared at him. He had wiry gray hair slicked back into a low ponytail, and wore thick black leather armor. The neck of his cloak was held together with chains that were fastened to his shoulders with iron brooches that looked like little half-skulls with glowing rubies for eyes.

“Come, I have special accommodations for you.” He grabbed her arm to drag her through an archway on the left and down the hall. He shoved open a door and led her inside a chamber containing iron cages and other torture devices. It reeked of rotted carcasses and filth, and her eyes stung at the putrid aroma.

As her captor pulled her toward the shackles on the far wall, her heart pounded. Hurry, Yavi. Lord Zehu, please send him, and quickly!

§

Yavi rushed into the hallway outside Graciella’s room, tears of rage stinging his eyes, his gut twisting painfully. Yajna and Jiandra ran to meet him, stopping to gape at the mutilated bodies of the guards.

“Where’s my sister?” Jiandra cried.

“She’s gone.” Yavi’s voice was hoarse. “I’m leaving now to track her down.”

“I’m going with you,” she insisted.

“No, Mahitha. You will slow me down.”

“What if you or she need healing?” she protested.

“You and Yajna can follow if you like, but I’m not slowing down for you. I’m leaving now.” He turned to follow the tracks of blood that pointed to the far end of the hall. He ran to the rear staircase, exited the back of the palace, and saw the same type of boot print in the muddy snow. It was pointing toward the southern gate.

He sprinted to the stable to get Sikar. Yajna and Jiandra caught up with him there.

“My best guess is that tower in Faril,” Yavi said over his shoulder as he threw on and secured his saddle. “I’ll bet there are tracks going that direction outside the gate. Don’t try to slow me down.”

“No, brother. Fly. We will track you and follow,” Yajna assured him.