Page 71 of Hellbound

Caromir vibrated with anticipation in her palm, settling into the marrow of her bones, eager for blood. She felt the frenzy as well, becoming more exhilarated with each step forward.

Water dripped steadily from the ceiling and a shuffle of feet sounded in the distance—a pained whimper.

At her sides were cramped but vacant jail cells. The dirt looked recently disturbed, as if someone had been forcibly dragged out.

The pressure in her ears and skull twinged in a familiar way.

She lost track of how many cells she’d passed before her pace quickened.

Rinna was chained to a chair in the middle of a room, her white knuckles gripped around the wooden edge. The air was thick with blood, settling on Ksenia’s tongue, and the cobbled floors were dark and wet with a drainage hole in the center.

Rinna’s breath came sharp and ragged, muffled by a cloth gagging her mouth. Her face shone with tears.

Her eyes brightened, brows drawn upward together, straining when she spotted Ksenia.

Suddenly, she darted her gaze toward the corner of the room.

It was enough warning, and Ksenia scrambled from the threshold.

The blade of a scimitar skimmed the floor with a low and discordant toll, throwing yellow and white sparks as it sliced upward before Ksenia. It emitted a sonorous hum that sank into her bones: hellbound.

She advanced in effort to face the threat and immediately regretted it.

Tenterhooks hung from the ceilings and walls, full of limbs and half-hacked torsos. Pools of blood gathered beneath each one, running toward the drain.

Ksenia retched onto the floor and wiped her mouth, glaring.

The portly man from the tavern ripped off his vest and threw it to the ground, rolling his shoulders. The scimitar was a couple of feet long with a mottled brown patina, and its cutting edge was serrated with chips. Rust had crept into the hilt with orange-brown streaks.

Bound weapons were highly coveted and near impossible to destroy; thus, it was more likely that a weapon survived to be handed from wielder to wielder.

This one had seen hard, prolonged use, with the irreparable mark of something more sinister.

Ksenia moved in front of Rinna, shielding her with her own body.

“Let her go.” Her voice was clipped, transactional.

The man let out a snorting laugh, like a boar. “I’d be happy to, if you pay triple what the king would pay.”

He lunged forward. Ksenia sidestepped.

TSCHINGGG!

Caromir met his chipped blade in a parry that threw sparks. The contact left a resounding ache in her forearm.

His broad yellow teeth gleamed in the light as she hurled herself back at him, the close distance limiting his range of movement with the heavier blade.

She spun around and drove her foot down against the back of his knee.

He keeled to the floor, slamming the pommel of the scimitar into the ground before Ksenia kicked it from his hand.

He swiped at her legs with thick arms, and she leaped away with a shudder.

“What’s one more in the king’s collection?” He panted, his stringy hair falling forward. “I’ll tell you what—lay down your weapon and I’ll cut you a bit of the pay if you leave us be.”

Ksenia saw red.

She crushed his hand underfoot, bones breaking beneath her heel.