Page 14 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

Stormy grey eyes, visible through the thin slat in his helm, bore into mine. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but even one step out of line like this is too many. If you’re innocent, then you shouldn’t mind being under my watch.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Keeping me close was one thing. I could be crafty, secretive. He couldn’t observe me all the time. But what the others implied was an entirely different matter.

A sound resonated from his mask that may have been a sigh. “I’m calling it what it is.”

“I haven’t broken my oath to you.” It was a risk, reminding him, but I had to know what he planned. “You can’t force my sister for this.”

“I won’t have her brought here. Yet.”

The constricting bands of worry around my chest loosened, but only where my sister was concerned. Another tug had us moving down the long hallway. Flickering pools of torchlight illuminated the space along with the glow of the twin moons filtering in through the occasional uncovered window.

Each step brought me closer to my inevitable fate. My thoughts spiraled inward. I’d be strong, I had to be. Though swallowing down the curses and fury rising to the tip of my tongue had never been so difficult.

I thought myself prepared for anything, to give anything. But as Lucien drew me to a halt in front of a set of guarded double doors, my fear surged to the front. The urge to run gripped me tight. Staring down his army in the face of defeat, even bending the knee on that fateful day, had been easier than this. I clenched my necklace in a tight fist, the star sapphire digging into my palm. The Mark of Sorrena had never felt so cold—so heavy—around my neck.

Be strong. Have courage.

All for Sorrena.

Chapter7

Lucien

Ilya stopped struggling as if she’d suddenly been turned to stone. Her arm went limp in my grip as her face paled.

She should fear me.

Still, the sight pulled a frown at the corners of my lips. Leaving her to Orson was out of the question. He’d lock her in the cells, carry out his taunts, and worse. The emperor wouldn’t want his guests treated in such a way whether they’d been trespassing or not. Orson had a habit of taking things too far, asking for forgiveness instead of permission. Though lately, he’d been pushing his limits even more than usual.

Ilya was certainly up to something. The way her mind worked behind her brown eyes when she assumed no one watched her spoke volumes on their own, to say nothing of the whispered words she managed to utter to her fellow guests as soon the guards turned their backs. Perhaps she assumed no one saw, but I did. Little went on in the castle that escaped my notice.

She beckoned like a warning flame high in the mountains, calling my attention when it should be elsewhere.

I’d never forget the way she looked at me when I entered the throne room of Sorrena. I expected a cowering heir or restrained indifference. Instead, the look of promised revenge stirred my blood in an entirely different way. Her defiance, her fire. It had dimmed only briefly at the beginning of our journey to Zhine weeks ago. But she had a soft side too, one I’d seen in her care for the younger guests. The thought of Orson touching her, breaking her, bothered me more than it should. She was just a curiosity, that was all. And trouble. I couldn’t forget that. Keeping her apart from the others was a wise move, one I’d already been contemplating, and this simply provided the catalyst to move that plan into motion.

“Ajax.” I waved the guard over where he stood at attention outside my chambers. The crimson and grey of his jacket hung loosely about his shoulders and arms. The young man could do with more time in the training yard—another day.

“Lady Ilya will be staying with me until further notice. Have her things brought here in the morning.”

“Yes, Captain.” He gave a perfect salute.

Though he lacked physical strength, the boy was loyal. For that reason alone, I’d assigned him to watch my quarters—not that I needed any protection. But Emperor Ryszard had ordered guards stationed at any places off-limits to his guests. A substantial portion of the castle—though much of it they guarded by merely watching the entrances to various wings or staircases.

I’d need the guards outside my door now, to keep an eye on Ilya, if nothing else.

She followed me into my quarters without a word, her lips thin. I studied her as she took in the main room. Her eyes flitted this way and that over the sparse furnishings. I’d never needed more than a simple seating area for a rare discussion with one of the guards or my other captains. Now, I couldn’t help but wonder how she saw the worn, brown leather on the long couch, the simple tables, or the thick drapes that barely covered the balcony across the room. Shabby furnishing to an heiress. The stunning gem in her necklace, as blue and brilliant as the seas of her homeland, was proof of that.

“Don’t think to leave,” I warned as the guard clicked the exterior lock into place. “Not without my permission. That door”—I pointed to the far one on the left wall—“contains a servant’s chamber, which will be your room. It’s dusty but can be freshened tomorrow. The middle door holds a small privy chamber.”

The servant’s chamber was an unnecessary relic of the castle’s past before Emperor Ryszard claimed the structure as his seat of power. Not once had I used it. I wasn’t some prickly noble who required a servant at their beck and call. Better they stay out of my space as much as possible. We’d had no personal servants at the emperor’s estate where I was raised. There were instructors, tutors, cooks, maids, and groundsmen aplenty, but they saw to the estate in general, not us specifically. Unlike some of my fellow captains, I didn’t see the need for change now.

“What? No more threats?” Her voice dripped contempt, though I didn’t miss the little quaver in her tone.

I stalked around her, coming between her and the sitting area until she had no choice but to look at me.

For all her courage and bite, Ilya retreated as I advanced. One step, then another, until the soft material of her odd sleeveless dress pressed against the stone wall near the door. She’d need something warmer soon—thicker. Her scanty attire, while enticing, would be little protection when the bitter winds of the resting season came in full force off the northern mountains. Already the nights cooled in the final days of the living season as farmers brought in the start of their last harvests.

Her throat bobbed as I neared, nor did I miss her flinch. For all her bluster, she was full of fear and wariness. It flickered with a deep unquenchable fire in her eyes.Good.

---