Page 27 of Wraithwound

Chapter

Twenty-One

Lena’s hands were bound so tightly she was beginning to lose feeling in her fingers. Her mind struggled to come up with a way to escape, the fog of the sedative still lingering in her body. She still had her pack but couldn’t reach it, and there was nothing else nearby that would slice through rope. It was tempting to give up. The feeling of helplessness was so familiar. Her body felt useless, exactly how she’d felt when grief had slowed her thinking and numbed her emotions to avoid the pain of her losses.

Lena squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, hoping the sensation might shake those thoughts loose. Thinking that way wasn’t helpful. She needed to focus.

In what felt like both the longest and shortest ride of her life, the wagon began to slow. She wasn’t in any condition to fight her way out, especially with her hands bound. But if Vince got her inside, there was little chance she’d ever get back out. Still, she had to do something.

“Who’ve you got there, another conspirator? The two maidens expected tonight were already delivered,” said a muffled voice.

“This one’s a gift,” Vince said.

“Doesn’t he already have two in his chambers?” the guard said.

“This one is for the Commander,” Vince said.

“Is that so?” the guard asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

“It is, so leave her be. It’s your head otherwise. I’ll be back to pick her up at first light,” Vince said.

“All right,” said the voice.

After a moment, she heard the jingle of keys, and the wagon began to move again. She lay back down and pretended to be unconscious. The click of the lock was the only sound before light flooded in.

“You look so innocent for a fucking demon,” he murmured, clamping his hands around her ankles. “But you did me a favor by killing them. If I had to work another day under Jarek, I would have had to kill him myself. Bastard kept confusing me with the other men. And now, you’ll do me another. I’ll finally be offered what I deserve. What’s mine.”

He yanked her towards the door, once, then twice. Then she felt hands at her chest.

“And to think, I expected to see you at the northern gate before dawn, wearing that emerald broach. But then there you were, in the middle of that intersection.” He played with the broach, no doubt trying to get a better look at it in the dim light. The two thin crystals hanging from the bottom clinked dully. “Ah, I’ll just take it from the treasury when he tires of it . . . don’t want to be accused of theft again.”

He wrapped his arms around her torso and heaved her over his shoulder, grunting as he lifted her. The smell of hay and manure drifted toward her, and Lena cracked an eye open to see a barn illuminated by rays of moonlight.

Shortly after, she heard the click of another lock. This was her chance; she could try and run. But she would never make it, not with her hands bound and her body still struggling against the effects of sedation. Vince stepped into the barn, her chance of escape evaporating into the blackened night. He took several turns, stopping a few times to adjust his grip on her body before coming to a stop. She heard the squeak of a door before he shoved her off him, her body landing on the ground with a thud. She did her best to absorb the impact without wincing.

A gasp echoed through the space, and then a female voice said, “Are you going to tell us what we’re doing in here, Vince? When do we get to leave?”

“Keep it up, Camille, and I’ll move that demon into your cell,” he said.

A prolonged silence ensued, punctuated by a click of the lock and heavy footsteps retreating. Lena lay there for a long while, unwilling to open her eyes. For if she did, it would be like accepting the pain of betrayal, so sharp and unrelenting that it speared through her, stealing the very air from her lungs. She would have lain there forever, if not for her brother.

Lena was in a dark, narrow cell. Three women sat in a small column of moonlight in the adjoining cell, eyes wide with terror. Scanning the women, she noticed all three were wearing silver robes and their hands were bound. They were also beautiful. Likely a requirement of being a maiden. Lena inhaled sharply, trying to dislodge the pain in her chest that had nothing to do with her wounds, when the young woman with reddish brown hair on the left flinched.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Lena said.

The woman seated in the middle with sandy brown hair appeared a little older with striking features and high cheekbones. She studied Lena, something like curiosity in her brown eyes.

“Is that so?” she asked with a bit of pause.

“Yes,” Lena said, irritation starting to fill the gaps the fog had left behind.

“Because your eyes are glowing,” the other woman on the right said, her grey-blue eyes cold.

Lena blinked. And then blinked again.

“My eyes—what?”

“They’re glowing. It’s all I can see from where I’m sitting,” the woman added, her long, blonde hair swaying slightly as she motioned toward Lena with her chin.