From the Ashes (The Elder Blood Chronicles, #3)(103)
“Get away from her!” Valor snarled and Jala felt relief wash over her at the sound of his voice.
“Just like an Arovan. Trussed up like a pig and still trying to bellow orders,” another voice called and judging by the laughter that followed there were quite a few others with them as well.
Her eyes still closed, Jala let out a slow breath and tried to force her mind to think clearly. They were inside. Of that she was certain. She could hear the storm raging still, but there was no sting of wind or rain. Her arms were bound behind her and someone was holding her upright from behind. Carefully she flexed her leg and felt her heart sink farther as she felt the pull of bonds there as well. Apparently, Valor wasn’t the only one trussed up like a pig. This definitely wasn’t how she had planned to make her entrance.
“Shy one, aye?” The first man spoke again, squeezing one of her breasts painfully as he did.
“I’m not shy, and if you do that again I will remove that hand. I am here to speak with Kithvaryn, not his lackeys,” Jala hissed with as much command as she could muster given her current situation. Where are you? Jala worked the link to Marrow as quickly as she could and took care to keep any expression but outrage from her face.
Outside in this wretched storm. I wish you would soothe him so this bloody rain will stop. They didn’t see me when you were captured and I followed you here, but couldn’t get inside without notice. It’s difficult to hide in a well lit room even for a Bendazzi, Marrow replied almost instantly and she could hear the relief in his voice.
Stay close, but don’t risk yourself. This doesn’t look good at the present, but I don’t think my life is in danger yet, Jala said quickly and dropped the link between them. There was a chance that this room held mages other than herself and Sovann, and she had been told many times how loud her mental links with Marrow were by others sensitive to such things. She may have just given away the fact that Marrow was on the island, but they didn’t know exactly where he was. If any of them were stupid enough to go hunting a Bendazzi at night in this kind of weather she would lay all of her gold on Marrow for the fight.
Laughter echoed through the room once more. “She must be Arovan as well,” the second man called loudly through the noise of the room.
“I am High Lady Jala Merrodin and I demand you release me at once,” Jala bellowed over the amusement. The room fell deathly silent at her words and she slowly lifted her head and opened her eyes. There were perhaps thirty in the room all dressed in assorted armor. From the looks of it they were in a sort of mess hall and had interrupted dinner with their arrival. Benches and tables filled the area surrounding them and she could see several more men still seated. Apparently the entertainment hadn’t appealed enough to them to leave their supper. Turning her head slowly, she let her eyes travel over each and every face. There was no longer any amusement written in their expressions, it was anger now. Valor was perhaps ten feet away from her, bound as she was at hand and foot. Sovann hung limply between two of the mercenaries, his face still lax.
The hands supporting her tightened on her arms. “I can’t believe you were stupid enough to show your face here. Where is the cowardly bastard you call husband? I hear he faked his own death to avoid paying his dues for killing Kanon.”
“Finn was never a coward. He was rash and bold, but never a coward,” A man called from one of the tables. His voice was cultured and low as he spoke and didn’t quite hold the same accent as her captors.
Jala turned her head at the words trying to locate the newest speaker. She hadn’t expected to find any allies here and wasn’t sure who it was. The sound of boot heels behind her gave her pause and she waited as the man slowly circled around her to stand directly before her. He was average height with long brown hair that was pulled back neatly in a braid. The expression on his face was one of interest, but not one of sympathy. His amber eyes trailed across her face and then slowly down her ragged dress to her feet. Leaning back on his heels he straightened his coat carefully and met her eyes. “Do you know who I am?” he asked softly.
Jala remained silent for a long breath, her eyes lingering on the black coat he wore. It was cut just below the waist and made of material that was far beyond the means of a common soldier. It was the embroidery that captured her eyes though. The careful stitching of flames in yellow and orange that lined the bottom of the coat as well as the cuffs. “You personally, no, I’m afraid I don’t. I recognize the colors of Rivana though,” Jala replied coldly.
His eyebrow rose slightly and a faint smile creased the corners of his mouth. “Bound and trussed and still defiant,” he said softly and nodded his head with what might have been approval. “My name is Hexian Rivana. I am the General of the Northern armies in Rivana. It was my nephew that your husband killed in the arena.”
“Devron earned that death,” Jala cut in her eyes narrowing.
“You didn’t let me finish,” Hexian chided with a smirk. “I was about to say I owe you my thanks for that. Pity he didn’t stay dead. Devron is a righteous little shit and in my opinion a waste of the air he breathes.” His smile grew at the look of shock on her face. “Just because we share the name doesn’t mean there is love among us. Release her, Keller. Lady Merrodin and her companions will keep me company at my table until Kithvaryn chooses to speak with one of us.” There was a snap of command in Hexian’s voice and Jala felt the hands on her arms loosen their grip at once, though not entirely.