Page 11 of Crown of Betrayal and Blood

I go under, and the world disappears.

ChapterFour

Something digs into my wrists, and a vaguely familiar medicinal scent assaults my senses. My brain is hazy, my body heavy.

Sifting through the mental fog, I fight to remember what happened. Images flash through my mind. My mother. The corridor in the palace. Strong arms grabbing me. A sharp, pungent odor. That voice.

Somone drugged me.

Alarm chases away the haze as I call on my magic, ready to fight my way out of this situation I’ve found myself in. It doesn’t respond. No power hums just below the surface. No warmth.

Fear replaces my alarm as my eyes snap open.

I’m not in the plush comforts of my chamber, but in a spacious room.

Several curtained windows peek out of gray stone walls. A heavy wooden door stands in front of me. Bookcases of varying heights and sizes are crammed full of an eclectic mix of old and newer tomes. To my right is a large, neatly made bed. Pots and pans hang from hooks on the wall to my left beside an iron cookstove.

A roughhewn rectangular table lined with wooden chairs sits beyond the stove. A collection of knives and daggers that would make Celeste Dawson—Flighthaven’s weapon’s instructor— envious takes up more than half of the surface.

I glance down. Rope binds my wrists and ankles, tying me to a leather chair that’s seen better days.

“Hey there.” An imposing figure steps into my peripheral, leaving me with the fleeting impression of muscular arms and dark, gray-streaked hair. “Glad to see you’re awake.”

I stiffen and yank at my bindings, but it’s no use. The stupid things won’t budge. “Who in the three hells are you?”

“Someone who needed to ensure our conversation remained private.” He stays just out of sight, but if I twist enough, I can make out the gleaming tip of a sword at his side.Fucking fantastic.“Rest easy. I mean you no harm. If I did, we wouldn’t be speaking now.”

I test the ropes again for good measure, but the knots only tighten. “Could’ve fooled me. You know, drugging and kidnapping me and all.”

Laughter rings out, followed by an unceremonious grunt and a clanking noise that I attribute to weapons. I’m guessing my captor just sat down. “You’ve got moxie, that’s for sure.”

Irritation prickles my spine. “As delighted as I am that my moxie impresses you, I’d really like to know why in Ziva’s name you brought me here. If you wanted to talk to me so badly, you could’ve introduced yourself at the palace like a civilized person.”

He releases a heavy sigh. “You’re right. And I’m sorry about all this, but I need to discuss something important. And I didn’t want to risk anyone overhearing.”

“So you had to tie me up and hide your face to talk to me?”Who is this man?

“Yes. This is critical. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me for this eventually, but even if you don’t, the gods know my intentions are pure.” Without further explanation, a chair creaks behind me. “Excuse me. I’ll be back shortly.”

Odd. Tough to believe, but this might just be the most bizarre situation I’ve ever found myself in.

Left alone, I survey more of my surroundings in a futile attempt to tame my anxiety. A bronze statue of Zeru, god of the heavens, perches on a table. A colorful vase depicting all four elemental gods graces another one. Several paintings hang on the walls, the closest of which showcases a phoenix with its tail on fire roosting on a black and yellow dragon’s back while four more dragons look on. The second one illustrates a battle where the Victory Goddesses, Bida and Fimmilena, float overhead and smile down on the winning side.

Dust motes dance in a shaft of light, illuminating the third painting. A portrait.

In it, the artist captures a woman riding atop a flying dragon, her silhouette powerful yet serene against a backdrop of tumultuous gray skies. Only her profile shows, but something about the tilt of her head, the curve of her neck, strikes a chord of recognition within me.

Her one dark eye contrasts with her pale skin. A real subject, I wonder, or an artist’s rendition of a fictitious woman? She’s certainly beautiful, with her strength evident in the definition of her arms and hard swell of her thighs in her fitted breeches.

As a new dragonrider, I’m well aware of those muscles in my own legs. They get a workout every time I ride on the back of a dragon.

I tilt my head. She still seems a little familiar. Since I can’t place her, my best guess is that she lives near the palace, and we’ve probably crossed paths.

The man returns, now wearing a heavy cloak with the hood pulled up. His face is mostly shadowed, but I can tell he’s tall and fit.

He holds an aged paper, rolled tightly with a ribbon. A red seal binds the ribbon in place. “I believe I have something you want.”

My eyebrows shoot up. That’s not at all what I anticipated him saying. If anything, I figured he’d rant at me for being a traitor to Tirene or blackmail me into asking Sterling for favors.

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