Page 97 of Captive of the Stolen Empire

Elin rose from where she read nearby, concern evident in her features.

I set my brush aside and waved her away. Whatever the guards wanted, involving her wouldn’t help us.

Summoning my courage and trying to keep my composure, I asked, “Where to?”

The man ignored my question and beckoned to the others. One frowned, the other showed no emotion as they advanced without a word. I stood a little straighter and stepped back, but they were upon me before I could think, grasping my arms between them. I stumbled forward, tripping over my feet while twisting around for a glance at Reyna. Her wide-eyed stare and white-knuckled grip on her paintbrush told me everything. She knew nothing and was frightened.

That look sent a dagger into my heart. Trouble. Danger.Gods and Goddesses, help me.

Another jerk. Another near fall. “I can walk on my own,” I grated. Guards closed in around me as the two ruffians loosened their grip, though not quite enough for me to wrench free. Not that I had anywhere to flee if I could.

None of them answered my questions or pleas as I was led into a portion of the castle kept off-limits to us. Only the rhythmicclackandclompof boots along stone floors accompanied us as we meandered twisting hallways. Not even the merry chatter of servants reached us here.

Every step increased the invisible ropes around my neck threatening to cinch tight and choke me. Something terrible had happened. If Sorrena rebelled, it would be my head. There’d be no escape, no time to put to use all that I’d learned. My eyes burned with unshed tears.

At last, we came to a halt in front of a guarded set of double doors. The men at attention showed less emotion than those who dragged me here. Despite the anxiety twisting like eels in my gut, I steeled my nerves and raised my chin as they pushed open a door.

I wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted me.

My body locked up, refusing to move into the room, as the squeak and scrape of metal invaded my ears. Captains turned my way, their armor gleaming in the light that filled the room. Not just one, nor two. All of them by the looks of it. Worse was the man sitting behind a large wooden desk on a raised platform, and the bloodied man kneeling on the patterned stonework in the room’s center.

On instinct I searched for Lucien. He’d only half-turned in my direction from where he stood to the right of Ryszard’s desk.

Look at me. Please.

Whatever this was, he could fix it. He could—

“You may leave us,” Ryszard said, dismissing the guards. They shoved me hard toward the center of the room before slamming the door at my back.

Trapped within, the walls of the room closed in around me, tightening their invisible noose. Zurina stepped forward to flank me as the guards had. Like Lucien, her form gave nothing away.

Instead, I looked to Fernand, still crouched unmoving upon the floor. Blood dripped from a wound above his eye and rolled down his chin to splatter upon the stones beneath him. Whimpering sniffles signaled his consciousness, yet he kept his gaze trained on the floor no matter how I willed him to look at me in return.

“Lady Ilya Valerious of Sorrena.” Ryszard rose to his feet, a small smile playing about his features. “Care to confess your crimes?”

“My crimes?” I echoed. A scream crawled its way up my throat, one I swallowed down before I spoke again. “What am I accused of?” I notched my chin a bit higher, a show of confidence I didn’t feel.

Lucien…

As if my silent plea reached him, the man in question turned to face me. Despite the familiar form and armor, I almost didn’t recognize him. The cold, vacant look in his eyes was more haunting than the sight of all the captains together. This wasn’t the man I remembered. His chilly demeanor and lack of emotion gutted me, threatened to bleed me out worse than any blade.

“This one”—Lucien pointed to Fernand, who visibly flinched where he knelt—“informs us that you’re the one responsible for giving him the information he tried to pass off to a maid.”

He clutched a crumbled piece of paper. Though I couldn’t read it across the distance, there was only one thing it could be. Dread curled around me. It had to be the page I’d stolen from Lucien and given to Gabriel. How in the name of The Four had Fernand gotten it?

“I do not have such information, and if I did I’d never give it to him.” Truth, or as close to it as I could muster. I locked my knees under the skirts of my dress to halt their shaking. Fernand made foolish choices, he’d proven that before, and now he’d dragged me down with him.

Stupid, foolish man.

And foolish me for wanting his and Gabriel’s trust and admiration.

“How do we know that’s not a lie?” Lucien grated, the sound cutting into me like small knives.

I looked away, unable to handle the harshness of his gaze, and instead focused on Ryszard. A horrible yet preferable alternative. It took everything in me, but I managed to kneel, to pretend subservience.

“I delivered your message to Trale at your request, my emperor.” The words tasted like acid on my tongue. “If I’d had such knowledge and wished to pass it off, why would I give it to Fernand when I could have delivered it myself?”

A thin excuse. One Lucien could kick out from under me if he mentioned I’d been alone in his room since then.

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