Page 70 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

Lucien made a beeline for me as the guards huddled around us, ready to be escorted to our rooms. Basilla watched, her lips slightly pursed. She’d yet to move from the high table.

“Magic?” I whispered, just loud enough for his ears.

His answering nod was barely imperceptible. He crossed between the woman and me, nearly brushing my shoulder. Too casual of an act for the role he played, and one that the mix of emotions in my heart could hardly stand.

“She knows.”

“What?” he mouthed.

“You. She—” I swallowed the rest of my words as he placed a firm hand on the small of my back.

“We should get you to bed, Lady Ilya,” Lucien said, drawing far too much attention.

My hands fisted at my side. “I hoped we could enjoy a drink with our hosts?” I gestured back to Stefan and Basilla. I couldn’t sleep. Not when I hadn’t accomplished any of my goals.

“Not tonight,” the fake captain said. “This way.”

The real Lucien nodded. His stare searched me, seeking my aim.

My lips drew thin.Fine.Let them take me to my rooms, but I’d find a way out. I couldn’t lose this chance.

Chapter31

Lucien

Ilya’s odd comment at the end of dinner wouldn’t leave me alone.She knows.Basilla? What did she know?

The moment the hallway cleared of Lord Stefan’s men and mine, I slipped into her room.

“What are you doing?” Ilya hissed. She stalked around the bed, eyes wild.

I held a finger over my lips.

“You can’t be in here,” she said in a harsh whisper as she leaned toward me, all fire and fury.

My lips twitched into a smirk. “No one saw. Besides, how else could your faithful bodyguard keep you safe?”

Something about the room called to me, and it wasn’t just the beauty fuming across the rug. An impossible sense of familiarity tingled down my spine. It wasn’t the first that evening, despite the lack of such feelings on the way here.

“Keep quiet a moment.”

Ilya pursed her lips and crossed her arms but didn’t speak. I crept toward a long wall draped with tapestries, meandering past heavy furniture of dark wood. A nagging feeling pulled me to a woven scene. Four does grazed in a glade flush with verdant grass and wildflowers. Tall trees haloed the edges with misty mountains in the far distance. Time had worn away some of the threads, but not the majesty of the scene.

I slipped behind it, rattling the wooden frame. I slid my hands along the planes and grooves of the stone wall. Feeling. Searching. Low on the wall, near my waist, I found the source of my curiosity.

A chill racked my body as my fingers found a circular hole and slipped inside. I’d known what I’d find, and where, though I couldn’t remember being in this particular room.

I pulled a soiled handkerchief from my pocket and stuffed it into the hole. A floor-length mirror against the tapestry provided further blockage.

“What are you—”

“Whisper hole,” I replied, voice quiet. “Wouldn’t do for someone to see me in your room. Or hear us.”

Her mouth gaped. “You went right to it… How did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” The casualness of the reply and accompanying shrug belied my racing thoughts. I had known. Just as I knew it was the only way to peek in here, or it had been once. The certainty of that thought did nothing to stop me from searching the rest of the room.

Ilya watched me work from the edge of the bed in tense silence.

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