by Frost Kay
After walking for a while, she lost all sense of direction as well as time. The only thing she could discern was that they seemed to be descending, her legs and thighs burning from the slope. Her brows furrowed when she detected faint traces of light, which brightened their surroundings bit by bit. She blinked a few more times as the outlines of the men surrounding her became visible. Something cracked underneath her foot. She paused and squinted at the floor.
Bones.
Jasmine followed her gaze and yelped, pulling them to the side. “Is that…a skeleton?” she asked, her voice shaking.
“It’s what happens to those who run away.” Rhys’ voice slithered over them.
Sage grimly stared at the skeleton. That had been someone. It had once been a living, breathing human being, maybe even with a family. Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Why?”
“He was hunted down, hobbled, and then let free,” the leader replied.
She finally tore her gaze from the bones. “Free?”
“Free to run until the leren caught him.”
“Leren?” Jas asked.
“The man-eater that almost killed you that first day in the forest.”
Chills ran up Sage’s arms when she thought of the giant black jungle cats that had tracked them through their entire journey. “You let them run free here?”
“No,” Rhys whispered in her ear. “We ration their food until another source presents itself.”
“You starve them until you want them to hunt someone?” she asked, her tone flat. Just when she thought they couldn’t get more barbaric, they got worse.
“They love to hunt prey that runs from them,” the leader supplied. “Let’s move on.”
Sick to her stomach, Sage carefully stepped over the bones with Jas plastered to her side. She shivered at the thought of being hunted in the maze of dark tunnels. Disgust gave way to hysteria, and a giggle slipped out. How fitting. The stone was as black as the Scythians’ souls.
Jasmine looked at her askance.
“Nothing,” she muttered, and stamped down the hysterical thoughts bubbling up inside her. If she let go now, she’d probably come unhinged.
The group snaked around a corner, and her steps faltered as light poured through a wide doorway. When she saw what lay beyond it, she stopped short. It was a phenomenon unlike anything she’d ever seen. The doorway led to a massive open cavern that hosted what looked to be an entire city, carved from the black stone. Sage squinted, barely able to make out the filthy people scuttling about the curved lanes, carrying all sorts of tools. Lanterns cast a sickly, yellow glow over them and she suppressed a gasp. Were those chain slaves?
“Move on.”
The leader jostled her forward, and just like that, she was swept away from the strange underground city. A thousand questions were at the tip of her tongue, but she kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t like they would answer her anyway.
The stone hallway twisted left then right, and at the far end were two enormous wooden doors into which symbols had been charred. Four giant men guarded the door, their bare, muscled skin painted with those same symbols. She shivered as their dark eyes zeroed in on her and Jasmine. It wasn’t sexual, but they looked at the girls with unveiled curiosity, as if they were some sort of exhibit.
In unison, the guards bowed and pulled open the doors. Her lids slammed shut at the sudden burst of light. One eye at a time, she cracked them and forced herself to move through the doors.
She squinted, the bright light blinding her. Everything was white. The walls, ceiling, and floor were made from white stone polished so brightly she could practically see her reflection. The bare walls sloped into high arched ceilings and the entire place felt cold, empty.
Sage looked behind her just as the doors thudded closed. She blinked. From this side, the door was invisible. The only thing that gave it away was a fine line where the stone didn’t quite touch, allowing the doors to glide smoothly.
Her attention was pulled to the floor when she noticed garish scarlet footprints that marred the pristine beauty of the floor behind her. Something about it raised the hair of the back of her neck. She tracked the bloody footprints to her own feet.
“Rhys,” a woman greeted.
Her head snapped up. She hadn’t heard the woman arrive. She couldn’t afford slips like this. Time to focus.
The woman’s body was cloaked in furs, with daggers strapped to her thighs. When combined with her lithe, toned body, she was even more a warrior than Sage ever was. She scanned the strong features she’d learned were typical of the Scythians: sharp cheekbones, straight nose, and coal black hair. She paused when she met a shrewd, caramel gaze.
“This is the one?” the woman asked as she moved through the warriors and to Sage, stopping a pace away. Her eyes scanned Sage from head to toe, then back up. She cocked a hip and pursed her lips in a way that betokened disapproval.
Sage tipped her chin up. She’d be damned if she let some random woman intimidate her. Her body was in bad shape, but no one would make her feel ashamed for it; it wasn’t even her fault. She eyed the woman as she circled her, and turned just enough to keep her back from the woman.
The Scythian female paused and raised a brow. “You’re smart not to turn your back to me. Although…” She scanned her body again. “It seems you were not always smart.”
Jasmine shifted by her side, an aggravated gesture. Sage grabbed her friend’s wrist and squeezed. They couldn’t afford rebellion.
The woman noticed the gestured and grinned. “It seems she has manners.”
Sage stiffened.
“She needed training,” Rhys replied, his face a mask of smugness.
“Indeed,” she drawled in her slight accent.
“Where is he, Maeve?”
“The throne room, where else?”
“Of course.”
The woman smiled with fondness at Rhys. Sage blinked, surprised. No one liked him.
“If you release the women into my care, I’ll clean them up before you present them to the warlord.”
“No, he needs to see them now.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly before she schooled her reaction. “Do you think that wise?”
“You think to counsel me?”
Sage shifted closer to Jas when Rhys moved around her to tower over the woman.
“No, my lord,” she replied. “But you know how he is.”
“I have to agree with Maeve, Rhys,” the leader added, stepping into the circle they’d formed in the hall.
Rhys cackled in his deranged way. “You live to disagree with me, Blair.” He stepped back and wrapped a hand around her bicep. “I brought her here. I delivered her. I won’t have this honor taken from me.”
She kept her face blank even though he was pinching her arm.
“You shouldn’t hold the Aermian so tightly. Even I can see you’re hurting the girl,” Maeve admonished.
His cold eyes locked onto her face, and she had to force herself not to run in the only way she could: by retreating into her own head. As appealing as it seemed, however, it was not something she could afford.
“There’s beauty in flaws,” he whispered near her cheek.
Her stomach heaved. Lord, how she despised him.
His face soured as if he read the thoughts she fought to hide. “We go now,” he snarled. “Move!” He released her arm and spun around to stalk away, the warriors seamlessly parting for him.
The men straightened, forming a ring with Blair, the Scythian woman, Jas, and her at the center. Sage stepped forward, only to be tugged back. She met Jasmine’s blue-gray eyes.
“I can’t move,” Jas whispered.
“What?”
“My legs, they’ve seized.”
Sage released her friend’s hand and tucked the brunette into her side. “Put your arm around my neck.”
Jasmine grunted and did so. “God, that hurts,” she hissed.
“It’s going to hurt more before it gets b
etter. Brace yourself.”
A small cry fell from Jas’ lips as Sage held her tightly and began moving.
“You have one extra,” a feminine, accented voice spoke from her right.
“She…inserted herself where she didn’t belong, and we had no choice but to bring her. We always need more stock.”
Stock? What did that mean? She tilted her head down, focusing on carrying Jas and listening at the same time, her ear cocked toward the woman.
“The last few did well.”
There was an undercurrent of jealousy in the woman’s tone. Interesting. Why would she be jealous of stock? Her foot slipped, and she jerked, jarring her friend.
“Hell, Sage,” her friend cursed through clenched teeth.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, adjusting her grip. She glanced at the floor and grimaced at the trail they were leaving. If by some miracle they could escape, at least they’d have their own trail of dirty, bloody footprints to return by.
Looking ahead, she caught sight of a set of twenty-foot-tall, engraved, white doors adorned with curling black handles carved from wood. The warriors stationed outside them bowed to Rhys and then immediately looked at her. Was she that different? That odd? To her, they were the odd ones, all looking the same.
She was pulled from her questions when Rhys appeared before her. “You will not speak unless spoken to. You will stare at the floor unless addressed, and you will not embarrass me.” He then spun on his heel and disappeared past the ring of warriors.
“He’s right,” the leader whispered. “Be careful, both of you.”
The immense door pushed inward.
Sage took a deep breath and looked to Jasmine. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be when walking to my death,” she wheezed.
Sage briefly quirked a smile at her before shuffling along with their procession as it moved through the doors and into the room. Upon entering, her eyes widened and she barely managed to keep her jaw from dropping.
The room was large and domed, its walls at least four stories high, with glass ceiling tiles sprinkled here and there. The white stone floor was broken up by large trees that stood like giants surveying their kingdom. They reached up through the dome and disappeared into a sea of greenery above them.
She was jerked from her inspection when something touched her cheek. Her lips thinned. It was a reaching fern. Nothing else. Just a plant.
She plowed ahead, trying to keep her wits about her, but she still felt like something was off.
“There are no birds,” Jas whispered.
The hairs rose on Sage’s arms. That’s what it was. There wasn’t a sound in the throne room except for their own shuffling footsteps. The feeling of being watched had the back of her neck prickling. She scanned the surrounding trees, but found nothing, at least, nothing she could see. That’s what worried her the most. It didn’t dissipate as they moved on, but intensified.
The trees opened up and formed a half circle, which butted up against the biggest stone wall she’d ever seen. In the center, a strip of the black porous rock ran from ceiling to floor. She peeked between two warriors to get a better look and caught a glimpse of stairs which led to what she suspected was the dais.
“Nephew, it’s been some time since I’ve seen you in the flesh.”
The deep voice rolled over Sage like thunder in a storm, all power. She’d always thought Tehl’s voice held power, but his was nothing compared to this.
She stilled when it was Rhys who answered the warlord. “My lord, I’m humbled to be in your presence.”
Her insides quivered in fear. This was going to be worse than she thought. The warlord was Rhys’ uncle? “Oh, God,” she breathed.
“He can’t help you here,” the leader whispered.
She whipped her head around to stare into the solemn eyes of the leader.
“Blair…” the deep voice commanded.
If Sage hadn’t been staring so hard, she would have missed it. Just for a moment, hate flashed through Blair’s eyes at the sound of the warlord’s voice, but it was gone as quick as it came. He broke their stare-off, then pushed through the ring of warriors.
“My lord,” he responded, his tone respectful.
“You’ve done your job well. Thank you for bringing my nephew home safely.”
“It was nothing.”
“Untrue.” A pause. “Did you accomplish your task, nephew?”
“I did,” Rhys replied.
“Excellent. And what of your guests? I wasn’t expecting you to bring anyone home.”
Jasmine sucked in a breath and began to tremble.
Rhys’ voice drifted closer. “I’ve brought you a gift.”
“Intriguing.”
Sage’s heart raced when her enemy pushed through the circle of warriors. He captured her gaze and held his hand out. She stared at it as if it were a venomous snake.
“Come now, Sage, don’t be foolish. And mind your manners,” Rhys spoke through gritted teeth.
Inwardly, she steeled herself. She didn’t have any other choice. Things would go very badly for them if she offended the warlord. Sage turned to the woman, who was currently watching the spectacle, and gestured to Jasmine. “She can’t stand on her own. Will you help me?”
Maeve eyed her with annoyance but moved to Jasmine’s other side.
Sage squeezed her friend’s hand once more, and then placed that same hand in Rhys’, her jaw clenching when his thumb rubbed against her wrist. The warriors parted, and she dropped her eyes to her dirty feet as her own personal demon led her like a fine lady toward the dais. Her gaze snagged on his limping gait. Despite the horrible circumstances, she had to hide a grin at his shuffling pace. The bastard deserved that and then some.
Blair’s instructions ran through her head. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact. But she wouldn’t be led to the warlord like a lamb, cowering and staring at her feet like she was in submission to them. Using her last vestiges of strength, she raised her head and stared ahead.
Gasps surrounded her, and Rhys’ hand tightened on hers, but all she saw were warm, black eyes. It shocked her. She’d expected soulless, cruel eyes. The smile lines around the man’s eyes spoke of something different. His inky hair hung around his angular face, just brushing his bare, muscular shoulders. He was beautiful. Everything about him called to her, from the straight, proud line of his nose to the stubborn chin and almond-shaped eyes. But it was more than his features; it was how he wore them. Sage kept her face schooled and lifted her chin. Never in her wildest imagination did she expect him to be so stunning, or so young. Her eyes told her he was beautiful when her mind told her he featured in the nightmares of many. It wasn’t right that evil could don such an alluring mask.
Her gaze strayed to the lounging felines on either side of him, and she barely contained a gasp. Leren: the man-eaters. Their golden eyes latched onto her as they flicked their tails in her direction. With her head still held high she surveyed the Scythian court; they were every bit as beautiful and cold as she expected. They eyed her with shock and disgust, but also a flicker of fear. Why did they fear her?
“What have you brought me?”
Her eyes snapped back to the warlord, who had sat up from his lazy sprawl, now leaning forward, one elbow resting on his knee.
Hell, he was flawless.
She’d spent time surrounded by handsome men—Tehl, Sam, Gavriel, and Rafe—but this man was regal in a way that left her in awe, rather like a fine painting or well-carved statue.
Rhys tugged her close, pulling her from her gawking, but when he tried to brush a tangled strand out of her face, something inside her snapped. She slapped his hand away and jerked out of his grasp. In an instant, both man-eaters sprang from the dais and to the floor, growling in a way that had fear clawing at her belly. Her instincts told her to run, but she knew that would only sign her death warrant. She reached for her belt and clasped air. Again, she cursed Rhys f
or taking her weapons. She was now completely defenseless. Slowly, so as to not startle the beasts, she settled into a defensive position, hands held out in front of her.
“Who’s this?” the deep voice purred.
She shivered, but didn’t pull her gaze from the giant midnight felines.
“This is Sage Blackwell, the rebellion’s blade, and…princess of Aermia.”
“Princess?”
“Yes,” Rhys replied, pride in his tone.
There was a beat of silence, and then, “Sage, I’m so happy you’re able to visit my court.”
Visit? What a joke. “It wasn’t much of an invitation, my lord.” It took all her energy to hold still and remain calm. In reality, she couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her pulse and the ringing inside her head.
More curses and murmurs erupted around them. Inwardly, she winced. Probably not the best idea to disrespect the warlord. She felt his gaze hot on her face, but she still didn’t look away from the beast that had just licked its lips.
“She’s feisty.”
“More than you know, my lord.”
“Why are you limping?”
She swore she could almost hear Rhys’ teeth grinding.
“She fought me and landed a blow,” Rhys rushed out.
“Interesting,” the warlord drawled. “And her injuries?”
“Earned.”
She bit her lip to keep herself from lashing out, but still kept her eyes on the beasts stalking back and forth in front of the immense throne.
“My loves, come back,” the warlord cooed.
She studied the felines as their ears flicked back and forth before slinking back to his side, settling like shadowy pools that stained the white dais. Her hands trembled, and she had to clench them to hide it. At least she would not be torn apart by beasts. For now.
The warlord stood from his throne made of stone and thorns. She blinked at his bare, chiseled chest, which also seemed to be carved from stone, and again wondered why he didn’t wear clothes. In her mind, a warrior would want as much protection as possible. Sage studied him as he glided down from the dais and toward her. He truly did glide, each movement of his body flowing into the next. She shivered. Only highly trained warriors and assassins moved like that.