I crept forward on silent feet, searching for knives and packable food. Combing through the baskets, I found the pile of leather satchels I’d been hoping for. I checked the first one to confirm that it held dried meat, and then I palmed four, stuffing them into my pockets.
Spotting the outline of a knife block on one of the tables, I moved toward it—
Across from me, a door swung open. Soft light flooded the room, and I flattened to the ground before sliding beneath the table. I hadn’t been able to grab a knife.
There was a man’s animated laugh, then the light disappeared as the door clicked shut.
“Shut the fuck up. You’re going to get us caught,” someone hissed.
The laughing stopped.
“I can’t believe this worked,” another man whispered, his words followed by the sound of shuffling feet.
My blood became a roar in my ears.
There were three, maybe four of them, and they clearly weren’t supposed to be here. While the darkness provided some camouflage,I was exposed on all sides, the tabletop my only cover.
“If I was a kitchen bitch, where would I stash the ale?”
“If only there were one here, we could ask.”
There was a cruel chuckle. “We wouldn’t ask. We’d be busy with better things.”
The implication sent alarm shooting through me. These weren’t just men who could catch me. They werebadmen, and if they found me—
Boots brushed stone, creeping closer to where I lay. My limbs began to shake.
“There’re baskets everywhere. Check every single one. See if there’s more under the tables.”
Just like that, the need to survive overtook any desire for escape. If these men looked under the tables, there was no doubt they’d spot me, and I couldn’t fight them all off. Even if I called for help, these walls could be too thick for the sound to travel far.
I swung my head toward the garden door, narrowing on the exit with tunnel vision. If I made it out there, I could get the upper and lower guards’ attention.
On a silent breath, I bunched up my legs.
Then I exploded from beneath the table, dashing to the door.
A shadow materialized from the storage alcove, morphing into a heavy-set man who snatched me mid-stride and threw me to the floor like I was no more than a doll. His mass hit me a second later, knees caging my hips, and I opened my mouth to shout. A meaty palm slammed over my lips, fingers squeezing my cheeks. “Look like we found a kitchen bitch,” he drawled. Short hair. Middle-aged. Pudgy cheeks.
I hadn’t even seen him.
He leaned closer, and I jammed my fingers into his eyes. I felt the nauseating squish before he howled, releasing my jaw and fallingback. I scrambled to my feet, barely straightening before another man was before me.
This one clumsily lunged for my arm. Just as he made contact, I shoved my knee into his groin. There was a sharp yell, and then he crumpled, cupping himself.
The remaining two approached me slowly, the one on the left blocking my route to the door. He smiled, teeth glowing in the darkness, and it reminded me far too much of Koerlyn.
“I like it when they fight,” he snarled.
There was a moment for the horror to dawn that he’d probably done this before, and then they pounced.
I didn’t stand a chance.
They were on me before I could shout, tackling me onto the stone floor. My spine bruised on impact, and then I was being dragged, hard fingers digging into my ankles. I clawed at the floor, fingernails splitting on stone. Abruptly, they stopped, flipping me onto my back. One landed on my arms while the other straddled me, their faces blurs of violent intent as I flailed.
I pulled in a stuttered breath and screamed.
A backhand to the cheek cut the sound. Pain exploded. The taste of blood coated my tongue as tears flooded my eyes.
