Viktoria's Shadow: Jael

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Viktoria's Shadow: Jael Page 19

by Ysobella Black


  But his unbeating heart meant this woman wasn’t his, no matter how drawn to her he was.

  Vampire hearing picked up multiple pairs of booted feet running their direction.

  He gave her another push toward the inn, harder this time, and led her pursuers away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

  VIKTORIA

  NEVER WOULD SHADOW have thought a black-eyed man holding two curved swords and talking in a language she didn’t understand would be who she took comfort in during this terrifying kidnapping experience.

  She’d made sure to check he didn’t have a crazy carpet that would take her even farther away from home, then followed him as they ran through the city.

  He’d killed to protect her. And even though his words were gibberish, the deep tone and the way they rumbled into her ear when she pressed her head to his chest, made her feel safe.

  He called her Sululu. She didn’t like much about this experience, but the way he said his version of her name made her blood heat.

  Now Shadow’s savior turned away and sprinted down an alley between two wooden building, yelling something in his incomprehensible language. Heart heavy, she hurried to the building he’d pointed to with the crossed weapons on the sign. As she reached the steps, pain burst through the back of her head and she fell.

  SHADOW’S HEAD THROBBED like her heart had moved to where her brain should be. Pain radiated from the back of her skull, down her neck, and to the top of her head.

  This must be how her grandparents felt when they drank too much Beer of Oblivion and wouldn’t let anyone talk around them. That wasn’t an infrequent occurrence. They kept everyone in their entire underworld perpetually sleeping. When they had really terrible hangovers, even Surma, the guardian of the gates, was banished so they couldn’t hear him barking.

  Why her grandparents went to such extremes made sense now. Even a whisper might destroy the fragile balance in her head and cause it to explode.

  But Shadow hadn’t been drinking. What happened?

  The man with the swords. He’d saved her and left her. She’d gone to the building he pointed to. Someone hit her! Had the protection spell worn off?

  She’d been kidnapped for the third time in the last few days. Her sisters could be kidnapped from now on. Shadow didn’t want to play this game ever again.

  Her head. The sharp pain made her eyes water. She blinked, but everything remained dark. Rough material rubbed against one side of her face where she lay on the floor. Her arms ached and were stuck behind her back, tied at her wrists. Her feet were numb, legs bound at the ankles.

  The big robe was missing and so were the sandals Jael had given her.

  Two men talked in that language she couldn’t understand. The words made no sense, but their gruff tones were far from friendly.

  One of them ripped the hood from her head, bouncing her skull against the floor. No, not the floor — a cart. Two men stared down at her. One clean-shaven, the other... the other had white hair and eyes so light she could hardly discern the light blue iris. He opened a pouch and shook several coins into the other man’s hand.

  He grinned, closed his fist, and walked away.

  Sold? Her kidnapper had sold her like property?

  The pale man replaced the hood, hauled Shadow up from the floor, and tossed her over his shoulder. Why did kidnappers like to carry her this way?

  Her head spun, and she fought not to be sick inside the hood. He walked into a tunnel, his boot steps echoing off rock. Water drops plonked into a puddle, and thirst raged through her.

  “I want some water to drink.”

  The man snarled and slung her off his shoulder, letting her drop to the floor. The stone surface scraped her skin.

  Metal cuffs snapped on her wrists and one ankle. He cut the ropes free and pulled her hood off. “You understand me?”

  His Rus was awful, but understandable.

  She used that language. “Yes. I want some water.” Dim light streamed in through a small window high over her head, showing her thick metal bars and dark rock.

  He ignored her and reached out to straighten the scarves around her face and head.

  Shadow jerked her head away. “Water!”

  He raised an open hand.

  What was he doing? Shadow froze in disbelief as his palm traveled at her face.

  Her mother’s protection spell flared, and the man jerked away, shaking his fingers.

  “Don’t touch me.” The magic didn’t feel as strong that time. How much longer would it last?

  She was in a strange place, full of sand and heat. Her beautiful new dress was gone, and she was forced to wear rags. Now she was locked in a cage in a dungeon. And everyone tried to hit her! This wasn’t fun. Where was her mother?

  “I am a Maiden of Pohjola!” This wasn’t how kidnappers were supposed to treat her!

  “I bought you like a trinket. So just sit there and look pretty until the king wants you.”

  Maybe the king would be nice. But how long would she have to wait? “When my mother finds me, you’re going to be sorry.”

  He laughed. “I fear no woman.”

  Shadow called on the last of her bravado. “That’s because you’ve never met my mother.”

  Mother, I need you.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  JAEL

  JAEL SETTLED INTO HIS perch on a broad branch sixty feet above the ground in a cypress tree. The thick greenery offered plenty of perches to watch the palace while remaining unobserved. The stone walls of the Jamshid’s residence were smooth. No one expected someone up this high, so they often left their guards down and windows open.

  Like the Snake Mage. He slept in his gigantic canopy bed. The snakes coiled on his chest, their darkness stark against the gold sheets. Everything in the room was gold. The rug. The furniture. The canopy arching over the bed. Golden thread wove into the tapestries depicting hunts, gods, and goddesses. Jael had expected the king to order his wives brought to him here, but, fortunately for them, Zahhak had shown no interest in the girls other than using them to solidify his claim on Jamshid’s throne.

  Where was Zahhak keeping Jamshid’s daughters? No one in the palace had seen them. At least, no one who would talk about them. Eating two people a day turned out to be an effective way of keeping those not eaten yet obedient.

  How much longer would it be possible to keep up the deceit of substituting criminals for the actual people Zahhak intended to die? Surely even a city this big would run out of murderers and rapists the cooks could substitute at some point. Luckily, the snakes couldn’t tell one brain from another after they chose their victims.

  A scream tore through the palace, so horror-filled and resounding the walls shook. Wild-eyed, Zahhak sat up in his bed, muttering to himself as he rocked. Or maybe the other mages inside him. “Three men attacked. One had a mace and struck me down. He imprisoned me under Mount Damavand. Who was it? Who was it?” He froze. “Fereydun.”

  The king threw back his covers and darted to his desk, reminding Jael of the boy he’d been not so long ago. “I must write it all down. Stop this before it starts. Show Fereydun I am not his enemy. Why now? What does this dream mean?”

  It means your time is short. Jael smirked. As an assassin, he was usually someone’s worst nightmare. Now he would try to make Zahhak’s dream come true. First thing — find this man called Fereydun.

  “THIS PLACE JUST ISN’T right.” Xenos made sure his hood covered his face and joined Jael in the early morning sun for the walk through the city. “There is far too much sun. Only a snake would want to live here.”

  “Echo asked me to bring you to see her, anyway.” Jael didn’t like the sun anymore than Xenos, but hardly anyone stirred in the palace so early, so leaving unobserved had better odds.

  “This dream. Zahhak saw three attackers, and one of them is named Fereydun? Is he one of yours?”

  “Not an assassin.” Jael shook his head. “I’ve never heard his name before.”

  �
�Do we even know he’s an actual man? Maybe this Fereydun is just a figment of a dream.”

  “Could be. But since we have a specific name, there’s no harm in asking if Echo’s heard anything about him.”

  “Last night, I followed one of the Serpent Mage’s minions. I think he’s the next in line. Although, it might not matter. He’s got to be about the only one left, but he’s buying witches for Haestratos and keeping them in the dungeon. I’m pretty sure the one he bought this morning is a Dragă. I’m going to get her out today. We need to get the keys.”

  That wouldn’t be easy. The keys to the dungeon cells hung in a room always full of guards. Jael or Xenos could use their vampire speed to rush in and take the keys, but with so many others in the room, not without someone noticing.

  As long as the topic was Dragăs... Jael couldn’t get the blonde woman out of his mind. “What do you know about Dragăs?”

  Xenos’ hair slithered over his shoulders in curiosity. “Well, I haven’t found mine, but apparently when it happens, there’s no doubt about it. Heart beat, a scent only you can smell, color vision. If you have her blood, you can track her across the world.” He sighed. “I miss the color of flowers and trees under the sun. Have you felt your heart beat?”

  Jael caught his shoulders slumping and straightened instead. “None of that.”

  “But you wish, huh? I have a girl like that. She’s Fae, which makes things even more complicated. They’re hard to pin down in the first place, but ever since the war they’re even more skittish.”

  The war between the Nymphs and the Fae was a mystery to Jael. Other than admitting it happened, neither side ever explained why. But the two sides hated one another. “If she doesn’t make your heart beat, how do you know the witch here is a Dragă?”

  “She recognized me.” Xenos tossed his head. “They like to talk about my hair.”

  “Of course they do.” Jael pulled open the door to the Sword and Mace. This early, the inn was almost empty, but Echo occupied her usual place. Xenos bypassed all the protocols and went straight to her.

  “Xenos!” Echo’s arms solidified for a few seconds as she hugged him and touched his hair before she lost cohesion.

  Jael gave them a few minutes as he ordered a drink for Echo. He joined them when she waved him over and set the drink down on the bar top for her.

  She picked up her straw and slid it into her mug. “Look, Xenos! My drinks are safe here.”

  “That’s great, Echo. We should have thought of that a long time ago.”

  “Do you need me to send another message, Jael?”

  “No. I have another question.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her about Sululu and where she went, but what was the point? The conversation with Xenos confirmed what Jael knew — his Sululu was not his Dragă. He concentrated on the current mission. “Have you heard anything about a man named Fereydun?”

  Echo flashed rapidly for almost a minute. “I have heard his name. He’s the grandson of Jamshid and takes care of a sacred cow called Barmāyeh in the highland meadows.”

  “You are the best, Echo.” Jael waited until she was mostly solid and kissed her cheek. She flushed and gave him another token.

  Xenos waited to kiss Echo’s forehead and let her play with his hair one more time before he tucked his wild mane under his hood. “The highlands are where the cooks are sending the people they save from the snakes.” He passed through the door Jael held open. “After we get the witch out this afternoon, I’ll go with them all the way to the meadow and see if I can find Fereydun.”

  “Good idea.” Jael nodded. “Bring him to the city, if you can. I’ll wait here. I’m sure Zahhak will send for me and order me to capture or kill the man he thinks will murder him.”

  The summons came, although much later than expected. Given how the dream had rattled the king, Jael thought an early morning order to find Fereydun would be forthcoming, but now it was late afternoon.

  Jael strode into the throne room, shifting between the crowd of elders and the upperclassmen of the city already in attendance, their presences a combination of wary heartbeats and perfumes that didn’t quite cover the scent of fear. So this was why the order to attend the king was delayed. He’d been busy.

  The king’s throne stood on a dais four white marble steps high. A dark rug ran from the stairs to the entry, separating the room in half. Tall windows let sunlight pour into the cavernous room. Jael pulled his hood a little farther forward.

  Zahhak waved a parchment, almost in a frenzy. “You’ve all heard what I’ve written here. Is my rule not virtuous and righteous? Jamshid’s daughters are my wives. The kingship is lawfully mine. All of you must sign this document so Fereydun can see we are not enemies.”

  A few men did, but the majority of them milled around. Finally, Kaveh, the blacksmith, said what the rest would not. “It is not virtuous or righteous that you murdered two of my sons! And the last is in your prison right now, soon to be fed to your snakes!”

  “I’ll free him!” Zahhak shot to his feet. “Guards! Free Kaveh's son!”

  “This has gone on long enough!” Kaveh shouted. “I will find this Fereydun myself so he can bring you down!” He shoved through the crowd and stomped out.

  The blacksmith didn’t know his sons hadn’t been killed for the snakes. A pang of guilt niggled at Jael’s unbeating heart. He could ease the man’s grief, but if he intended to rebel against the king that could help. His sons would be returned to him soon enough.

  Those left behind stood in silence, unsure of what to do.

  “Out!” Zahhak bellowed. The snakes emerged from his shoulders and lunged at those nearest the king. “Leave me!”

  Jael stood aside as people rushed to obey.

  The king slumped on his throne when the room emptied of all but the two of them. “Assassin, you must find a man called Fereydun. Capture him and bring him to me.”

  CHAPTER FORTY ONE

  VIKTORIA

  THINGS KEPT GOING FROM bad to worse. I don’t want to be here anymore. Where was her mother? What if these kidnappers brought her too far away from Pohjola? Had the magic her mother used to track her faded, as well as the protection spell? What if she couldn’t get home? She’d never see her sisters again.

  Only this dark place made of cold, slimy rocks and black metal bars. More cells like hers, each separated by an aisle, lined three edges of a vast square in the middle that held a table with straps, and a rack of sharp knives. Dirty glass jars stained red lined another table. On the fourth side, a wide staircase led up. A few torches made small shadows dance along the walls. They allowed her some small comfort.

  Did they want to hurt her and take her blood if they could break her mother’s protection spell? Screams and shouts came through the wall sometimes. Maybe they were doing that to other people.

  Only one other cage in this part of the dungeon was occupied. A sleeping woman brought in after Shadow. Hopefully, she was only sleeping. The woman hadn’t moved. She wore pants. Pants! And a short-sleeved shirt.

  Shadow’s head ached. She hadn’t eaten since the dinner party with Koschei. How long ago had that been? The water dripping into puddles tormented her dry throat.

  This wasn’t how kidnappings were supposed to go.

  To stop herself from sobbing, which she really wanted to do, Shadow paced in her prison, coming to an abrupt stop after only a few steps, when the chain on her ankle halted her.

  The woman in the next cell woke up and stood. She watched Shadow with speculative dark eyes. “Soră?”

  Another word Shadow couldn’t understand. She shook her head and lifted her shoulders as much as the manacles let her.

  That didn’t deter the other woman, who smiled broadly and nodded. “Soră.” She wasn’t chained up, and extended her arm through the cell bars, fingers stretching toward Shadow.

  The chain around Shadow’s ankle let her step to the bars of her cell, but only that far. If her arms were free, their fingers could touch in the
middle. She turned to show the other woman her wrists stuck behind her.

  The Soră woman scowled and muttered words Shadow didn’t need translated to know they meant something her mother would never approve of her daughters saying.

  Shadow wished she knew what they were. She returned to pacing. Sitting on the cold, stone floor seemed like giving up. If she stopped moving, the fear and despair she was trying to hold back might catch her. She might never climb to her feet again.

  A muscular man wearing a tawny-colored shirt with his hood up came down the stairs to the dungeon. He had a sword on his hip, carried a bunch of keys on a ring and went to the cage holding the other woman with hardly a look at Shadow.

  One key after another rattled in the lock until one clicked. With a white flash, the door opened and he let the Soră woman out, taking her arm to hurry her up the stairs.

  “Wait!” Shadow called. They were going to leave her? Maybe some of those keys unlocked her chains. “Can you help me?”

  The other woman talked to the man, who flicked a glance at Shadow and argued. She shoved at his chest and ran at Shadow.

  Boot steps clattered down the stairs, echoing off the stone walls. Guards armed with swords ran into the dungeon. The hooded man caught the woman’s arm and swung her away from Shadow as guards ran down the stairs.

  The Soră woman’s outstretched fingers brushed the bars of Shadow’s cell, caught on the loose end of one of the scarves around her arm and pulled it off, then the touch vanished as her rescuer yanked her away. With a shove, he put the woman behind him, backed away, and drew his sword. The scarf fluttered to the ground.

  Too many soldiers for one man to fight poured into the dungeon, coming between Shadow and the only two people who could get her out of here.

 

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