Page 27 of Hellbound

“Dead. The moment you failed to recover, you were dead.” Varka extended a hand to her, which she batted away, holding in her curse.

“If you know you’re going to hit the ground, especially on your back, break the fall with your hands and roll out of it, like this.” Varka demonstrated falling backward and leaping back onto her feet in an instant. “Of course, there’s a forward version, but the point is to prepare for your combatant to throw your body around.”

Ksenia’s energy was sapped from the lack of food, her sleepless night, and the dull throb of Caromir’s protest on the rack.

For the rest of the early evening, Ksenia practiced rolls nonstop until Varka called it quits because her form was suffering.

Ksenia lay eagle-sprawled upon the wooden floor, willing the room to stop spinning.

“And tomorrow, we’ll up the difficulty.” Varka strode out of the sparring hall without another look, leaving Ksenia to watch the sun set through the skylight, painting the clouds in pink and blue. She should be so lucky to have this sight again.

Her eye slid to the entrance where Varka disappeared and drew herself to her feet. She ambled over to the abnormal mirrored pane and probed with her fingers.

A quick whoosh of air escaped the sides of the panel from the depression of her fingertips and then palms. The panel swung outward smoothly, revealing a darkened corridor behind it.

Where did it lead?

Why don’t you go and find out? Vornaya whispered.

8

Ksenia hesitated but stepped through, pulling the mirrored door closed behind her. A labyrinth of corridors revealed itself in shafts of dim light, shining through select spots on the walls. She listened carefully, but not a soul was in the musty hallway.

She crept up to one of the lights, at roughly eye-level, and found herself peering out into the foyer. Evidently, the multitude of portraits had the dual purpose of not only looking imposing but also shielding from prying eyes. The canvas was slightly more threadbare before the peephole, retaining a sheen of paint while allowing one to peer through.

Her ears picked up chatter as she neared the next peephole, this one overlooking the dining room where Varka and her house staff sat together sharing dinner. It was oddly disarming to see Varka mingling—

Her boot caught something.

The resistance was so slight, she almost missed it. A hair-thin wire stretched across the stone floor at ankle height. Her momentum had carried her forward a half step before her mind could process the trap.

Ksenia flung herself backward, her ass slamming against the floor as something hissed through the air where her throat had been a heartbeat earlier.

A metallic think echoed in the narrow space—a needle-like dart embedding itself in the opposite wall, the shaft still quivering.

She pressed herself flat, breathing hard, her heart hammering against her ribs. She ran her gaze delicately along its length, as if it would re-trigger with a look alone. One end anchored to a hidden mechanism in the wall, the other disappeared into a minuscule hole.

She dusted herself off and examined the dart. The shaft appeared to be iron, but Ksenia knew better. With such a short distance and that delicate a structure, the dart had to have Grastelian steel for a core. That was the only way it would’ve buried itself into the stone instead of pinging off the hard surface.

She couldn’t help herself. She grasped the needle and pulled it out. Its point was wickedly sharp, and a dark residue stained the tip.

Poison, most likely.

Ksenia straightened, pulse still racing, and scanned the corridor ahead with renewed wariness. Varka had stayed true to her word that the manor would be full of surprises, and Ksenia was wiser than to think this was the only one.

She continued on her path, running her hand along the dusty brick as she approached the next peephole, then the next. She now had a view into the kitchen, the library, and the sparring hall. At the end, a drafty staircase led her to the second floor.

The passageways were relatively bare and free of debris, but Ksenia worked through them at a snail’s pace, checking for more traps.

Perhaps they served as a makeshift escape route in case of emergencies—or insurrection.

Her stomach growled loud enough to be heard through the walls, and she clutched her belly. Although she had discovered these passageways, there was no way she’d sneak into the kitchens right now with the cooks and servants streaming back and forth through the swinging doors.

She found herself on the second floor and in a similar situation, except most of the peepholes were darkened—unused guest suites, she presumed.

She noticed a spot of light near her quarters.

It must’ve been Varka’s. She paused before squinting through the hole.