While yourkingis missing.
She hated them. All of them. Her parents, the council, Raffe. Hated them for their apathy. Hated them for assuming the worst and moving on. Hated that she was playing a part instead of helping Stone and Aesira find Desmond.
She rose to her feet, ready to confront Nev only she couldn't before a hand closed around her mouth and she was dragged backward through the dark corridor, the flowing panels of her dress slipping beneath her, the music from the hall fading until it was only the sound of her struggled breathing.
Twenty
Nev
Nev stood with her back to the corridor, sword hanging at her side, eyes alert, scanning the ballroom. Raffe was smiling, talking with the King and Queen of Novaria, a few lords and ladies lingering next to him. Nev didn’t trust Raffe’s too smooth smile. The way he entered the kingdom as if it were already his own. Her back stiffened, a soft cry coming from the hallway behind her.
She didn’t mean to catch the queen crying, which is why she turned as quietly as she could. Offering her a moment of privacy in a world that typically gave her none. It was the least Nev could do, as her protector. She stood firm like a wall, turning away even the Citadel attendants.
Then, the faint crying stopped.
A shuffle behind her.
Nev drew her sword, the sharp slice of metal scraping against the sheath was swallowed by the music. “Your Majesty?” She crept forward, toes pressing lightly into the tile floor. Her eyes darted to the small wedge of darkness where she’d seen Kamari sink into.
Gone.
Her hand tightened around her sword, her boots now flying against the floor. She would have worried, would have felt the smallest tingling of fear, had she had time for it. The smallest glimpse of deep purple silk floated through the back door as she neared the end of the corridor.
“Your Majesty!” She tore down the rest of the hall, her armor clinking, boots thudding. The door was open when she reached it, leading to a narrow, spiraling staircase.
Nev didn’t remember this door. Aesira had assigned she and Nora to scan every surface of the Citadel upon their arrival. Every service entry, every tunnel, every dark corner that may be used as a place for an unwanted visitor to hide.
This door, she did not remember.
She pounded down the stairs, her armor echoing off the narrow stone walls. The tip of her sword caught on a loose stone, tripping her up for a moment. She pulled it higher. Moonlight spilled across the stone tile at the bottom.
Panic fanned in her chest like a moth opening its wings. She would not let harm come to Kamari again. She would not fail her only duty to protect her, again.
The warm, dry air of the desert slapped her cheeks as she plundered out of the doorway. The moon was new, hanging in the skylike a slice of silver. The granite wall of Vargah loomed before her, the flickering of torches kissing the deep, night sky.
The door led her straight out of the Citadel.
“Your Majesty!” Her voice echoed back to her, bouncing off the wall. Biting her tongue, she forced her lungs to slow, her breathing to steady, so she could focus on the sounds around her.
A crackle of flame.
In the distance, music from the party.
A bell from a cart in the main square.
And there–stuck on the breeze–a scream.
Nev’s boots dug into the sand as she abandoned the doorway in a sprint. She focused on the wind, hoping it would bring her another trace of Kamari’s voice. The breeze curled around her neck, her ears, and there it was again.
Another scream.
Her boots skidded in the sand as she reached another door along the wall, small and inconspicuous. It pushed open with easy effort from the sole of her boot, and when she stepped through, a gasp caught in her throat.
A woman held Kamari by her shoulders, arms pinned behind her back. The door led straight into the open desert. “You!” A scream rushed from her throat, deep and menacing, a warriors-cry, as she took off through the sand, sword in hand.
The woman holding Kamari wore a mask, concealing the lower part of her face, but her eyes were exposed and went wide as saucers. “Stand down!” her voice wavered, a thin knife wobbled as she pointed it under Kamari’s chin. “She’s coming with me.”
Kamari thrashed in her grip, black smudged around her eyes, but there was a fierceness there that Nev recognized from Aesira. The queen was not losing this fight.
