The Elder Blood Chronicles – Book Three(123)

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.

“She is a prisoner, Lord Hexian. Her Arovan knight killed one of our scouts. I can’t just let her go,” Keller objected, though his voice was wavering.

Hexian’s eyes narrowed and he looked past her to stare directly at her captor. “Are you suggesting that I am not capable of preventing the escape of a half-drowned girl and her two wounded companions?” His voice was low and dangerous as if daring the man to offend him further.

“We don’t take our orders from you, Hex, and I still have a few things I’d like to ask the half-drowned girl.” It was a woman’s voice this time, and from the back of the room. The crowd parted as the woman crossed the room toward them. Her long dark hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and the expression on her pale face was murderous.

“Who is she?” Jala whispered to Hexian as she watched the woman approach. It was obvious from her armor that she wasn’t simply a common mercenary. The quality of work on her breastplate rivaled the detail on Valor’s.

“Commander Kithkara, I’m surprised such a trivial prisoner has attracted your esteemed interest,” Hexian said as he half turned to face the woman.