Song of Blood & Stone (Earthsinger Chronicles #1)(78)

He spun back to face the captain. “Who brought this note?”

“A servant, Your Grace. A maid. I didn’t know her.”

“And you thought I’d send a maid to retrieve someone from custody?”

“The letter bears your seal, Your Grace.”

Jack turned away, trying to tamp down the rage boiling in his bloodstream. At its edge was a cold fear he didn’t want to inspect too closely. Whoever had stolen Jasminda’s dress and destroyed it had wanted to send a message to Jack. They must have taken her, as well. Would they really harm her? All to punish him?

Only one person he knew had clashed swords with Jasminda recently. At the very ball where she’d worn that dress.

His breathing came in short spurts as he exploded from the dungeon, racing up the stairs three at a time.

“Where is Minister Calladeen?” he growled to the young man at the main Royal Guard station.

“He’s in his offices, Your Grace.”

A red haze swallowed Jack. His whole body quivered as he stalked down the hall and slammed his way into the offices of the Minister of Foreign Affairs. A startled young secretary yipped in alarm as Jack stormed into the inner office.

Calladeen stood, eyes wide, as Jack exploded into the room.

“What did you do?” Jack demanded.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jack marched across the room until he was nearly nose to nose with the man. “Where is she?” he yelled. Calladeen shrank back, leaning almost comically away.

“Where is who, Your Grace?”

“Don’t play games with me, man. Where is Jasminda?”

Calladeen placed two hands up in a motion of surrender and stepped away from the wall of anger radiating from Jack’s body. Jack clenched and unclenched his fists, waiting for the moment when he could release his frustration in a flurry of violence.

“Your Grace, I swear by our Sovereign, I do not know.”

Jack’s glare was ruthless, and the man seemed genuinely afraid. Jack held up the letter. “You did not forge this message from me ordering her release?”

Calladeen tentatively plucked the letter from Jack’s hand and read it over, a frown pulling down his mouth. “No, I did not. But I do recognize the handwriting.”

Jack had paid little attention to the curling script of the letter. “Whose is it?”

Calladeen’s sharp face grew pensive. “Lizvette’s.”





CHAPTER TEN


The caravan of buses rolled across the country as the sun-kissed day darkened into a tempestuous, thundery night. Rain pelted the metal of the bus’s roof so hard it sounded like hail. Jasminda sat near the front, handcuffed to a bar running under the window.

On the bench across from her sat Osar, squeezed together with a woman and two smaller children. All the mothers held their children close, blanketed in fear and sadness. The refugees had taken a risk in trusting their Elsiran neighbors, and they had lost.

Jasminda felt her own loss acutely, the loss of Jack and now her freedom. The cold metal bit into her skin when she jangled the chain connecting the cuffs. The soldier sitting in front of her craned his neck, glaring at her. She narrowed her eyes at him, hardening her stare until he turned back around.

She’d thought being locked in the dungeon would be the worst this day would hold. She was wrong.

Her hours in the dungeon had been spent mulling over the latest vision from the caldera and counting the stone blocks in the wall, waiting for Jack to appear and explain himself. Then the clank of keys approaching had made her sit upright.

A maid appeared outside her cell with two Guardsmen in tow. The cell door opened, and the maid motioned Jasminda forward. She stood, shocked the Guardsmen allowed the maid to lead her away.

“Did Jack send you?” Jasminda asked as the woman passed her a hooded cloak, large enough to cover Jasminda’s face. “Where are we going?”

“There’s a car waiting for you, miss.”

“To take me where?”

“We must hurry,” she said, leading her through the servants’ passages at a rapid pace. With a sliver of Earthsong, Jasminda tested the woman’s emotions. Uncertainty and caution pulsed powerfully within her. Jasminda couldn’t imagine that Jack would have allowed her to be released to just anyone, though it was odd that he’d sent a servant she didn’t know instead of Nadal or Usher. They soon arrived at an outer door where Lizvette waited with an unfamiliar driver and vehicle.

Jasminda froze. “Jack didn’t send you, did he?”

“It isn’t safe here for you,” Lizvette said, scanning the area as if a ruffian would spring from the bushes at any moment.

“Who wants to hurt me?”

“Please believe me. This is for the best.”

Lizvette wouldn’t meet her eyes but nodded at the driver before stepping back. "Do not harm her."

The driver, a burly man with an icy gaze, approached, and fear spurred Jasminda into action. She spun away and ran, but the man reached out a long arm and grabbed her. She kicked and flailed, but her shout was muffled by his large hand over her mouth. A pair of handcuffs clinked as the metal slid across her skin.

He manhandled her into the backseat where another man, who she hadn’t noticed before, waited. In the brief moment when the driver removed his hand from her mouth, she gasped for air to scream but a gag was stuffed between her lips and tied around the back of her head. She continued thrashing, but the second man held her in a crushing grip. The driver took his seat and slammed the door. Jasminda struggled to look out the window, seeing only Lizvette’s retreating form.