Page 57 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

“The poison?” I reached for him without thinking but drew my hand back in a flash as he pulled away.

He nodded and rubbed one hand with the other. “It hurts less than yesterday.” Yet it still stung enough to wrench a cry from his lips.

Words couldn’t reach my tongue as I considered what to say to him. I wanted to explain my absence, that I had tried to warn them, but the guards lingered too close. “Shall we take a walk?” I offered.

He glanced at the nearby guards and shook his head. “Probably best that we don’t.”

The unexpected rejection tripped me up, but I followed after him as he moved away.

“I thought you’d walk with us the other night,” he mumbled as he turned onto a gravel path, barely sparing me a glance.

“Something came up,” I whispered in return. Too close. The guards lingered just beyond the near hedge, another pair trailed behind us.

A tingle ran down my back, creeping like little spiders under my clothes. I twisted around. The sight behind me nearly froze me in place. Lucien walked with Warren across the courtyard in the shade of the castle walls, and though his friend nodded along as though they spoke, Lucien’s gaze was fixed on me.

Gabriel’s eyes had narrowed when I turned back to him. His head tilted to the side. “Something, or someone?”

“It’s not what you think.” My focus flitted around, searching the locations of the guards. I ached to tell him what I knew. His nephew lived. But after what he endured at Lucien’s hands yesterday, he might not believe it—or worse, the knowledge of what he’d become may be more hurtful than thinking him long dead.

“Isn’t it?”

I sucked in a sharp breath. “You can’t think that I—” My mouth snapped shut, rattling my teeth as several guards glanced in our direction at my outburst.

“I’m not sure anymore.” Gabriel’s curt dismissal iced my blood as he walked away.

Roots might as well have grown up my legs for all that I could move. The world swayed, or perhaps I did. In a matter of days, all my carefully laid plans had fallen apart. Worse, Gabriel no longer trusted me. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. Fernand likely felt the same way.

The frayed ends of my plans floated through my head like slimy eels, taunting me.

I jumped as a slender arm looped around mine.

“Come paint with me,” Reyna said, her characteristically cheery smile in place.

“Paint?” My forehead creased at the odd request. The imaginary roots anchoring my legs released as she gave me a tug in the opposite direction from Gabriel.

“Of course. It’s a lovely day to capture these late-blooming flowers.”

An apron was draped across the front of her dress, tan and marred with a few dabs of green and yellow. Her long, dark hair had been tied behind her head with a cream ribbon. The pale color matched the trim around the sleeves of her crimson dress, which fell to just above her elbows.

“I don’t know how to paint,” I said as we neared an easel set with a partially painted canvas. Another two sets stood propped against a wall nearby, waiting to be used.

“Then I’ll teach you. It will be fun. Think of it as a distraction from the trials of doing what’s right.”

I stiffened, almost stumbling over my feet. “What do you mean?” I whispered.

Reyna just smiled at me before calling out to the guard near her work in progress. “Dion! Can you fetch Lady Ilya an apron like mine? She’s going to paint with me, and I’d hate for her lovely dress to get ruined.” She winked at him, blinding smile still in place.

“O-of course,” the man stammered. “Right away.”

He departed faster than if one of the captains had given him the command instead of the hostages under his watch.

She smirked as he hustled off. “If you seem happy and content, they don’t watch you quite so closely. In fact, they can be rather helpful.” She hefted one of the spare easels and brought it next to her own. The guards did keep their distance here, as if they didn’t need to watch this particular woman.

“Grab a canvas,” she instructed. “It’ll be a bit before he gets back, but we can get you all set up here.”

I followed her orders, using the opportunity to ask another question as I set the canvas on the stand she’d just straightened on its grassy footing. “Are you not happy here?” She seemed like it.

Her eyes bore into mine. “Is any fish content in a small bowl?” She smiled again. “You’re too obvious, Ilya.” She leaned in, pretending to help me settle the canvas. “If you really want to learn their secrets and perhaps earn them to your side, you need to relax. Anyone can tell you’d slit all their throats if you could.”

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