From Anastasia (The Anastasia Series Book 3)

by Jordi Burton

  “William?” she breathed.

  But Ericcen pulled her away, following the dance. She searched the crowd for the young man, eyes roaming every face. But it was no use.

  He was gone.

  When the dance ended, Anastasia politely excused herself. Ericcen didn’t seem to mind as she moved away from him, pushing her way through the crowds. Faces swam before her, but she was gripped with a fevered sort of fervor. She needed to find him.

  Reaching the opposite end of the field, she spun around hopelessly. She felt, ridiculously, on the verge of tears. Somehow, she’d forgotten how much she’d relied on having William in her life.

  They’d spent months together with no one else around them and had only ever fought the one time. He’d stood by her when the Shadows attacked Sehir and she was forced to relive the most traumatic night of her life. He’d been there when Adrian found her in the elemental Sky Temple, had held her hand as they fell towards their deaths. He’d protected her and kept her secret when she’d had a premonition in the middle of a party. He’d dragged her to safety more times than she could count. And he did it all without a negative word.

  And now? He was being hunted for his dedication for her, imprisoned for serving a higher purpose rather than the draft to the Realm Guard. But all she could think of was how much she missed him. How she missed his steady companionship, his warmth, his strength.

  No one could ever replace that for her, no matter how many men her family forced upon her. William was the be-all and end-all. He was hers.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she sank into the grass. Merriment sounded all around her, but it didn’t touch her. She let her eyes go unfocused as she stared at the fire, the flames blurring. Knowing she needed to put on a braver face, so as not to draw unwarranted attention, she let out a deep breath and stood. Grabbing her amulet, she focused on its healing energies. She would make it through this, too.

  Getting up, she ran her hands over her skirts. A strange bulge at her hem gave her pause. Frowning, she felt around until she produced a crumpled paper boat. Her heart quickened as she recognized the handwriting within. William.

  Unfolding the boat, she read and reread the words hastily scrawled across the damp parchment. I wish to always come home to you. It mirrored her own wish she’d written in her boat, but was also a declaration for their future. His intentions toward her hadn’t changed. She bit her lip to keep from cheering. William Dinas was hers.

  “Thank you,” she said into the growing darkness.

  Grinning, she started back to the celebration, renewed. But as she stepped forward, hot and cold sensations flushed her. She staggered back, suddenly unable to breathe. Uncontrollable trembling overtook her; she dropped to the ground like a stone. The world blurred around her as her body seized. The last thing she saw was a masked man hovering over her, with eyes that looked like William’s.

  CHAPTER NINE

  D ani spat on the ground, rubbing the toe of her worn boot through the dirt. It was strange how normal it felt to wrap her hand around the iron bars caging her in, how used she was to the cries of other prisoners around her. It felt like any other day, waking up from her wooden bed, stepping to the side to relieve herself in the hole in the corner, waiting for her meal to be slipped through the slit in the door. But it wasn’t just another day.

  With a sigh, she settled back on her bed. A bug crawled up from the thin mat that sat atop the wood; she flicked it away from her. A small, square hole in the wall held a candle, the only light in the cell. It flickered, giving the impression that the walls were rippling around her.

  “Help!” Mira’s voice carried through the walls. “Help us!”

  She’s grown hoarse in the week since they’d been captured, using every waking moment to call for someone. But no one was coming for them. Dani had assumed as much when they’d been captured. Anastasia only checked in haphazardly, or when she had important news. And no one else knew they were out here. So who would come for them?

  “Quit yer yellin’ girl!” one of the other prisoners shouted.

  Mira ignored him. “Help! Somebody!”

  Dani closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. It had been surprisingly quiet around here. Back on the wagon, the guards had thrown sacks over their heads and taken them across the desert. She knew they were still on the Sand Isles, as they had only traveled by land, but she wasn’t sure where they’d stopped. But from what she’d felt being led into the building, it seemed to be an impressive place. At least size-wise.

  There were at least a dozen cells, most of them full. They were all given regular meals, and enough water. The latrine holes led down to a sewer that was regularly flushed out, so smell wasn’t an issue, and they were allowed to bathe every few days.

  And yet, Dani still had no idea who captured them. She knew only of Durse Follant what William had told her—that he was an arrogant, selfish young man, a ward of Master Glude, and the son of the most powerful warrior in the realm. But she didn’t know who he was working for, or why. Perhaps it was the guards of the Sand Isles, or the Realm Guard, or even the Soster.

  Somewhere down the hall, a door opened. Dani listened to the footsteps, counting as they exited the prison. Twenty-three. So, at least fifty steps from her cell to the door.

  A sharp rap on her door startled her. She sat up, peering through the bars. It wasn’t feeding time yet, and she’d just bathed the day before… but there stood Durse Follant, dressed in the same roughspun clothes he’d been wearing when he’d captured her.

  “Come on,” he said, his expression eerily blank.

  Dani got to her feet as he unlocked the door. When she stepped into the hall, he wrapped his hand around her upper arm, just over her healers’ tattoo. She squinted as he led her outside, yet another deviation from the norm, and across the deep ruby sand to a large tent. To her utter surprise, Mira and Hayde sat inside, chained to chairs.

  “Dani, thank God!” Mira breathed.

  Hayde looked up, one of his eyes bruised and swollen shut. Vaguely, she wondered what had happened.

  Wordlessly, Durse tied her to her own chair. Crossing to the other side of the desk, he sat and started at them. Mira started to tremble but seemed unable to use her magic. Hayde merely stared sullenly at Durse with his one good eye.

  “I assume you know why you’re here,” Durse finally said.

  Dani tilted her head. “Assume we don’t.”

  A ghost of a smile tugged Durse’s lips. He looked down at a sheet of parchment in front of him, his expression blank. “Daniela Catherine Dinas. Healing apprentice in Sehir. Daughter of Dolan Frederick Dinas, the master blacksmith, and Victorya Syla Dinas, the dance master. Sister to William James Dinas, the disgraced royal warrior apprentice.”

  Dani bristled. “William was not disgraced.”

  “Charged with treason, was he not?”

  “You’re one to talk.”

  He chuckled. “So I am.”

  She glared at him. “So you know my name, my family. You lived in Sehir for twelve years. It’s not so hard to know who people are. I can do it, too, Durse Gallan Follant. Ex-weapons warrior.”

  Durse merely looked amused as he stared at her. Hayde glanced between them, nearly turning all the way around in his seat to look at them with his good eye. Mira, meanwhile, quivered in her chair, veins in her arms popping as she tried to use her magic.

  “Let me guess,” he intoned. “You’re here on special assignment for Princess Anastasia?”

  Dani said nothing, but she was certainly taken aback. No one was supposed to know of their work tagging the Shadows. Anastasia had been adamant about keeping the people of Jacqueline unaware of the fact that the Shadows had begun to unfreeze, or that they were being moved to remote locations so that there would be fewer casualties once they did. So how was it that Durse Follant, of all people, knew?

  She studied him, the way his mouth curved into a smile, how his flinty eyes searched her face. She hadn’t known him too wel
l before everything had happened with the Shadows, hating him on principal because of his beef with William, but it seemed like something about him was off. She just couldn’t put her finger on what.

  “Don’t deny it,” he said. “I know all about it. All about your work tagging Shadows, breaking the curfew in the Sand Isles to do it. And I even know why.” He put his finger to his lips. “But we shan’t say.”

  Dani frowned. “What do you want?”

  “What do I want?” He considered her for a moment. “Nothing. But my men, that’s another story.”

  Hayde shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

  “Am I?”

  “I’ve seen your brand on your arm, and on your men. You’re one of them, one of the Soster. Those psychos that feel indebted to the Shadows. It’s disgusting.”

  At Hayde’s words, Dani searched Durse’s body. And there, sure enough, on his forearm right below the crease of his elbow was a brand in the shape of a clawed hand. Thinking back, Dani remembered seeing it on the guards that brought her food in the cells. Closing her eyes, she blew out a breath. They were screwed.

  “Disgusting, you say?” Durse pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

  Something about Durse shifted and he leapt forward, wrapping a hand around Hayde’s throat. With his other, he punched, his fist connecting with Hayde’s jaw. Hayde’s head snapped back with a sickening crack. Dani was revolted but said nothing. She’d seen enough violence to be able to stomach it. She didn’t like it, but it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it once would have. Mira, on the other hand, started screaming and didn’t stop.

  Crossing the room, Durse silenced her with a backhand to the face. She shrank back in her chair, whimpering, while Hayde groaned, floating in and out of consciousness.

  Durse turned his attention to Dani. “Tell me you’ll be more cooperative.”

  “As much as I can be.”

  He smiled again. “Good choice.”

  Smoothing his hands over his trousers, he sat once again behind the desk and peered at her. His gaze was unnerving, but she held it. She needed to show him that she wouldn’t be easily cowed; it could be their only way out.

  She paused momentarily. “What would you like to know?”

  “Where are the Shadow statues being taken?”

  Dani grimaced. She’d been expecting a question like this. But even so, she hadn’t prepared an appropriate answer. She knew she could never tell Durse the truth; the Soster would take the Shadows and try and help them. They could wipe out the realms if they tried. But did she really have the strength to withstand him if he tried to press her?

  “I don’t know. All I was told was to tag them. A separate team comes in and takes the Shadows.”

  He frowned. “And who is on this team?”

  “I don’t know that, either. They were selected by the High Council.”

  “I don’t know if I believe you.”

  “I don’t know how to convince you otherwise.”

  He stared at her again, but this time pensively. She wondered what it was like, to feel such a bond to creatures like the Shadows. She wondered if he was aware that he’d changed, if he knew what was happening but was unable to stop it. She wondered if it hurt.

  “All the same,” he intoned. “I need to be sure.”

  He snapped his fingers and more Soster entered the room. They lugged Mira and Hayde to their feet, dragging them from the room. Others came and grabbed Dani, leading her back to the prison. Instead of going to her cell, however, they brought her upstairs. Inside a new room, she was strung up by her hands and suspended off the ground.

  “I’ll see you in a few days,” said Durse.

  Blowing out a breath, Dani pulled against her restraints, making a show of struggling to escape. As they left the room, she counted their footsteps—sixty-seven.

  Thinking back to when William had been teaching her self-defense, she grabbed onto her restraints and swung herself back and forth, working to gain momentum. At the right moment, she swung her leg up and hooked it around the rope. Gritting her teeth, she slowly worked her way up the rope to where it was tied around a beam in the ceiling. Looping her legs around the beam, she pulled herself right side up and straddled the beam.

  Catching her breath, she got to her feet and rubbed the heel of her boot back and forth over the rope, fraying it. It was slow going, but she finally managed to break the rope from the beam. Carefully, she worked her restrained hands over the edge of the beam, breaking free.

  She hastily retied the rope around the beam, and loosely retied her hands with knots that she could easily break, on the off-chance the guards returned for her. Listening for guards, she leapt from the beam. Pain lanced up her legs as she landed. Scrambling to her feet, she tiptoed to the door and peered through the bars.

  Growing up with her father, she’d learned a thing or two about ironwork. Unfortunately, she’d spent more time in her mother’s studio learning the strange dances from the smallest towns in Jacqueline. She had, however, picked up a trick or two messing around with William in the smithy. Pressing her hands to the door, she closed her eyes and concentrated. Her healers’ power swirled inside her chest, tingling as it raced down her arms and out through her palms. It searched through the door until it found the lock.

  It was like she could see the inner workings of the door, every bolt and tumbler, like a blueprint. It was the same as if she was looking at a body, searching for internal injuries. When she’d first learned how to do it, she’d followed her family around for weeks, just looking at their insides.

  Thankfully, it let her know that there were three tumblers in the lock that needed to be depressed, and that the topmost nail holding the hinge on the door was loose.

  Carefully, Dani braced herself on the bottom hinge, hoisting herself up to the top of the door. Working the nail loose, she dropped back. It was a harder metal, but it was warped with age. Chunks of it had already fallen away, and it stood crookedly in her hand. It would be easy to fashion into a key of sorts. She just needed a couple of tools to do it.

  Glancing around the cell, she found it to be empty of anything other than the rope, which wouldn’t really help. Upon closer inspection of the door, however, she realized it was made of sturdy metal, covered with planks of wood. Squatting, she wedged the edge of the nail into a corner of the wood and kicked it. The rotting wood fell away, leaving a corner of the metal door exposed. Sitting cross-legged in front of it, she started to saw the edge of the nail against the metal.

  It would be slow going, for sure. And she’d need something to chip away at the nail to fashion teeth. But what? There was nothing else in the room and they’d taken her crossbow from her when they took her.

  But then she remembered the bolt she’d hidden in case she’d ever been captured. Reaching up into her headwrap, she unraveled the length she’d tied around her head. Sure enough, a crossbow bolt fell into her hand. Thank the Gods and Angels.

  Settling back, she set to work on making her key.

  And then? Just sixty-seven steps to freedom.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A nastasia stared down at the letter in her hands. Two more bodies had been found, their fingers burned, small puncture wounds in their backs, and her name pinned to their chests. Sitting in her mother’s study, staring down at Zethus’ spiky script, she nervously touched her pendant. The High Council was struggling to find a connection between the victims, a reason why they’d been killed. But she was pretty sure she had one—the alternate universe. They were all people she’d met there, and the realization that someone other than William and Valdon knew about the alternate universe was terrifying.

  Setting down the parchment, she considered her options. She could tell the High Council of the connection, but that would mean revealing that the alternate universe existed, that her grandmother was still alive, that a second alternate universe existed where Shadows had eradicated the realms, and that the Shadows wanted to bring the universes together and destroy them al
l.

  She could also keep it a secret and find another connection, a way to find the killer without revealing the alternate universe. But that seemed unlikely.

  But if she didn’t say anything, she ran the risk of more people being killed. Her only hope was to figure out what the killer wanted. Why the puncture wound? Why the burned fingers? Once she understood, she could piece together who was responsible.

  A knock sounded at the door. Lili stuck her head inside. “Mistress Miglune is here to see you, my Princess.”

  “Let her in.”

  The Healing Master strode purposefully inside, her traveling cloak rippling around her legs. She looked pointedly at the door until Lili closed it behind her, leaving her alone with Anastasia.

  “You’ve had a chance to examine the bodies?”

  Mistress Miglune nodded. “Their cause of death is severe trauma to the neck.”

  “They were snapped.”

  “That isn’t all.” Mistress Miglune pursed her lips. “The puncture wound is from a needle. A syringe was used to remove spinal fluid. I was able to see the leakage from the wound, which means they were still alive when it was extracted. They moved, likely a spasm of pain, as it was being taken.”

  Anastasia breathed, “Gods and Angels.”

  So, one piece of the puzzle had been unearthed. The killer was taking spinal fluid from the victims. But why? What could it be used for? When she voiced the question to Mistress Miglune, the older woman’s frown deepened.

  “DNA. It can be used in many ancient rituals, especially if there is magic in the victims’ blood.”

  Anastasia mulled the information over. Then, suddenly, the answer seemed shockingly obvious. The killer was hunting the Ancients. Somehow, they knew who was on the List, or at least expected who was on the List. It would make sense as to why they were prominent in the alternate universe, and why their DNA would have magic properties.

  Logically, the first person she thought of was Tamo. But he was no murderer. He hadn’t lost himself so completely that he would stoop to cold-blooded murder, had he? Yes, he’d pulled his warriors out of the Realm Guard, but that didn’t make him callous, just angry.