Page 107 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“I’m fine,” I lied.

“Don’t hide your wounds from me.” Before I could argue, he lifted me into his arms. Though I sensed he tried to be gentle, sharp pain raced through my chest and arm. Something somewhere might be broken, but I pushed the agony away, concentrating on his words.

“I can’t leave my friends behind.”

“Warren’s getting them now.” Lucien strode through the door adjacent the end of the hallway.

His words did little to calm my nerves. “How will we get out of here?”

He halted in the vacant guard room just long enough to snag a heavy blanket. Whatever guards may have been there had been sent away. By Orson or Lucien, I didn’t know.

“Trust me,” Lucien said, carefully tucking the blanket around my sullied form in his arms. “I’ll explain everything. Hopefully, you will too.”

My chest tightened. “I was an idiot. A fool.” I shook my head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. Never you.”

He nodded once—acknowledgement, if not yet forgiveness.

“Tell me once we’re free.”

Chapter48

Lucien

Too late.

I’d almost been too late.

At the barest glimpse of Ilya crumpled on the floor with Orson looming over her, I’d lost it. Magic leaped from my skin, weaving a wall of protection more vivid and real than anything I’d willingly conjured. A quick, clean death would have been too easy for him, though I admired Ilya for her determination to deliver it. Part of me yearned for him to bleed out slowly, painfully—if he regained consciousness at all. Another couldn’t forget the boy he’d once been. A thorn in my side, an ass, but a brother too. In the end, I left his fate to The Four.

I stared at Ilya—finally back in my arms—as I carried her through the winding halls of the castle. A bubble of illusion hid us from sight, though sound was another matter. If I went too fast, her eyes closed and her lips thinned in pain; yet no matter how my steps jostled her, she never cried out. I tried to block the noise of my armor with magic, but it was imperfect at best. Quizzical glances crossed the faces of several guards. None of them had discovered us yet, but I didn’t expect it to last.

Slow. Careful.By The Four, let us make it to the stables before someone sounds an alarm.

I didn’t want to fight our way out, to kill these men and women and risk Ilya in the process. My arms ached. Each breath sent a twinge of pain along my ribs, a parting gift from Orson. I nearly sighed as Ajax came into view, waiting by the back entrance near the stables as planned. He paled as I let my illusion fall away.

“The horses? Supplies?” I asked.

“In progress, Captain,” Ajax stammered.

“The others?”

Ilya tensed, looking as anxious as I felt.

“They should be back soon.” His attention flicked to Ilya. “Can she ride?”

“Of course I can,” she insisted, though her voice lacked the bite and fire that normally accompanied it.

“We snagged a few tonics from the storeroom just in case,” Ajax said.

“Bring me one,” I ordered as we slipped into the dark stables attached to the lower level of the castle. The scent of hay and horses washed over us. As he’d said, the mares were mounted and ready—several bearing saddles, others bearing bags of food and supplies. The men had worked quick, carrying out the instructions I’d barked on our run to the castle with more expert precision than I’d imagined.

Brishon emerged from the shadows to join us. “I sent a few men around to the other side to gather more supplies.”

“And if they get caught?” I asked.

“Pray they don’t, brother, or we’ll be living off this lot until we can find a safe haven.” He gestured to the encumbered horses. “I’ll join them now and see what I can do to smooth our passage.”

“You’re all running?” Ilya looked between us, her brows scrunched.

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