Page 19 of Snapped
“The guard who died trying to protect Aiya from Marcus…that was Ian, wasn’t it?” Hector asked softly. Maeve nodded, her eyes misty and distant. “I’m so sorry, Maeve. Judging by how this upsets you, you obviously lost a friend. The lord works in mysterious ways though, doesn’t he? Aiya and Sawyer’s son, named after the fallen man, has a very diligent guardian angel; don’t you agree?”
The statement made Maeve’s cheeks flush, a small smile painting her lips. “Yes, I suppose he does. Come on then, I’ll show you the garden.” Maeve picked up the pace, all but dragging Hector along behind her. The feeling that he was being watched, almost stalked, had returned. Earlier in the day while traveling from the docks to the gates of the palace, Hector had the distinct impression eyes were following him. While foreign and slightly foreboding, he wasn’t afraid. No, quite the contrary actually—if anything, Hector felt a sense of anticipation surrounding him. Something big was coming, but what?
***
A thick copse of trees camouflaged their bodies from sight on the far side of the stables just beyond the reach of the torches that lined the back side of the palace. August searched out the missing ball of light that would indicate the door Cillian would usher them through once he’d incapacitated…or killed…hislover.
“There is a line of torchlight between the building and the stables. I’ll extinguish the torch closest to the iron door once I’ve taken care of my friend,” Cillian had told August and Robert, a gleam in his eye at the prospect of killing the man that had warmed Cillian’s bed many times over the past few months.
The discarded son of the former Ambassadors of House Gaeland couldn’t care less how many people he took down in his quest for vengeance. August was confident his psychotic leader would kill anyone that crossed his path. So, with the help of several of Cillian’s rebels disguised as servants within the palace walls, August had spiked any and all beverages being served to the Guards that evening with belladonna. A murderous rampage through the halls of House Gaeland was far from the vengeance August wanted.
August took the time to study the grounds—the tall trees swaying in the breeze, the smell of freesia and lilies thick in the air. Closing his eyes, he could envision his sister walking through the rows of colorful flowers and trees. Her beautiful long, flowing red hair falling down her back while her inquisitive green eyes roamed every branch, leaf, and stem. In his mind, she was wearing the bright yellow dress he’d given her for Christmas three years past, the one his mother had to sneak out of Autumn’s room while she’d slept to wash it. He’d known as soon as he set eyes on the dress at the market that she’d love it, and he hadn’t been wrong.
Any pity August held for the people of House Gaeland evaporated when an image of his sister in the yellow dress she adored, pale and lifeless, as she was lowered into the ground fought its way past the sight of her smiling in the garden. A loud, creaking noise jerked August back to the present. Following the sound, August looked toward the palace in time to see the light from a torch farther down the path disappear. A quick, sharp whistle from Cillian and they were on their feet, sprinting across the dimly lit path toward the building.
Stepping aside, Cillian ushered Robert and the other twelve men and women into the palace through the iron door. “Come on, come on, don’t got all night. Be a right fucking shame to get caught when we’re this close to what we want,” Cillian barked.
Voices coming their way caught August’s attention as he darted through the doorway. “Go, I’ll see who it is and make sure we haven’t been found out,” he whispered to Cillian. The big man eyed him warily for a few moments, the voices growing louder, coming closer. Finally, he nodded and turned, walking at a fast clip down the darkened hallway where the rest of their group had already gone.
Pushing the heavy door almost shut, leaving a small crack to see and hear through, August pulled a dagger from his belt. He’d come too far, sacrificed too much to be discovered and have his plan thwarted before he could complete his task. If someone came through the door, he’d slit their throat first and ask questions never.
Two people came to a stop about forty yards away, the oil lamp hanging from a large post that sat at the entrance to the garden shining light on their features and clothing. They both wore cloaks gathered at the neck with the seals of House Orion.
He’d listened to his sister gush about the woman she loved enough to know that the woman he saw through the crack in the door was Maeve, daughter of the Ambassadors, wife of Aiya. It sparked a thought in August’s mind.What if I grab the wife? Use her to flush out Aiya?
“There’s a bench just over there.” Maeve pointed down a path that disappeared behind a large rosebush. “We can sit and talk for a while.” She turned, the man moving to follow.
“You’re certain Aiya and Sawyer don’t need you to help with Ian?” the man asked, his voice causing a guttural reaction, the likes of which August had never felt. It was exotic, almost melodic and crept down August’s spine like honey from the vine. The man stole a glance over his shoulder, and it gave August a brief but clear glimpse of his features.
Holy fuck, it’s the guy from earlier…
Glancing back down the hall that led farther into the palace, August saw it was empty.Fuck it, they can start without me.So he left the safety of darkness behind the door and followed the man that had snared his attention.
