Henri
“Did you know about this?” I growled at Orcus as warborn soldiers flanked us on both sides.
“I suspected.”
“You could have mentioned it.”
“The messenger is never well received in these matters.”
Orcus’s soul servants were rounded up while the remaining half dozen soldiers corralled us with their guns drawn. My hands were on my blades, but I hadn’t drawn them. Even with their rifles aimed in my direction, I could probably take out a few of them. Not all, but a few. But then what?
“We have the sunborn prince already,” one of them said. “And if you don’t come quietly, we’ll kill him. After we kill you.”
“Put down your weapons,” I demanded. A couple of the soldiers began to comply when their commander barked at them to stop, breaking my seduction.
“Drop your blades,” the soldier said, placing the cold metal mouth of his gun against my temple. I did so slowly, my sword and my dagger, at least. “Gag him and strip him, and don’t look him in the eye.”
Once that missive was executed, I was left with little recourse to defend myself. The soldiers cuffed my wrists behind my back. They didn’t strip Orcus, though they did pat him down for weapons, gag, and cuff him. I thought of Lucian, whose seduction was more powerful than my own. Perhaps he’d escaped the warborn’s assault.
I clung to that promise as they steered me out of Orcus’s chambers. However, that hope was swiftly dashed when I arrived at the courtyard and saw Stefan naked and displayed on a cross, crucifixion-style. Surrounding the macabre circle were lit torches that bespoke of some grisly rite. Stefan’s wrists were lashed to the beam and he’d been beaten, one eye bruised, his lower lip split and swollen. Clearly, the warborn wished to make a spectacle of our pain. Stefan whimpered softly, doe-eyes searching mine in vain. This cruel display would surely unravel Lucian, which was likely their aim.
I watched as another cross was wheeled out to the courtyard, this one with Anika affixed to it. Our chances, in my mind, improved significantly then, for if Aretha wasn’t part of this insurrection then the warborn loyalties were split. I quickly assessed Anika’s person. They’d not beaten her as they had Stefan, and her wrists were afforded a cloth to prevent rope burn. I deduced that the warborn soldiers weren’t sure which way this thing would play out, and if Hyas didn’t succeed in his hostile takeover, they didn’t want to incur the wrath of Aretha by mistreating her most beloved assassin.
I could work with that.
Another cross was wheeled into the courtyard, one that I assumed was for me. I manipulated the gag in my mouth, slowly chewing through the leather. The soldiers who’d led me into the courtyard backed away, and I turned to meet with a square-faced colossus.
“Nothing personal,” the man said, then landed a blow to my head that nearly knocked me off my feet. I stumbled backward, stunned, head spinning. Before I could recover, there was a fist to my gut. I doubled over and the abuses kept coming. Without my hands, I couldn’t even block the blows. Several minutes later, when I thought I might be slipping into unconsciousness, I was raised to my feet and dragged over to the cross. My hands were unbound, and my arms were spread like the Vitruvian Man and held flush against the cross.
“Make the ropes loose,” I whispered to my captors while battling the dizziness and nausea from what was surely a concussion.
I took a deep, meditative breath and tried to harness my control. There was some give in the ropes as I worked my wrists slowly back and forth, rubbing the tender skin raw.
The sun was rising over bloodborn lands. Even with my eyes nearly swollen shut, I spotted you in Hyas’s keep. I wished to tell you not to worry, that I’d be all right, and whatever might happen, to save yourself.
But judging from the fury on your face, the only way this might end was in bloodshed.
