Page 82 of Hellbound

A beat of silence.

Ksenia swallowed. “No. Friends don’t put friends in danger, all right?” She tucked a wild curl of blonde hair behind Petra’s ear, and Petra swatted her hand away, red coloring her cheeks.

“But I know this whole place! I can help.”

Ksenia rubbed her forehead. If Petra were hurt because of her, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.

But part of what Petra said rang true. Ksenia was out of her element in Hearth, and she sensed that the violence of the competition was only just beginning.

“Maybe,” Ksenia relented, shaking her head while Petra beamed. “Off to bed with you.”

After the young girl was safely in her sleeping quarters, Ksenia doubled back, a sinister idea brewing in her mind.

She wove through the tunnels that Petra had revealed to her, finding her path back to the hedge maze.

Scarcely half an hour had passed, but her time was fleeting before the guards inevitably made their rounds. The tang of blood was fresh in the air, and for the first time in days, the night was without a single cloud in the sky.

With care, she beheaded the noblemen and brought their heads to the center of the maze, before the oak tree.

She staked the polearm to the ground. Then, one by one, she stacked each head on top of the other. A reverential smile slipped onto her face as she stepped back to admire her handiwork.

Then, as a final touch, she lit a match.

From her pocket, she retrieved her maker’s mark—a thin bar of metal scarcely thicker or longer than her pinkie.

She held the flame to the tempered stamp until the dull, gray metal took on a light tan tarnish.

And with it, she branded their skin.

The next morning, gray light streamed through the rose window of the great hall, bathing Karsan in a beam of light. Overhead, Ravenka’s reliquary shone with rays of green, red, and purple, shards of light ever moving across the stone walls.

A short distance behind him stood Bohdan, who appeared to be conferring with his lieutenants.

With predatory patience, the king waited for the lords and ladies of the court before him to silence themselves. Ksenia watched as a few dozen bloodshot eyes darted nervously and hands fidgeted with fine clothes as the vast hall echoed with a buzz of muttered rumors.

A small smile graced his face with detached curiosity at their panic.

A pallid man shuffled forward, licking his lips. “Lord King, there has been an increase in violent crime and murders. Last night—”

“I know about last night,” Karsan spoke evenly, as though silencing a child.

“Something hellish is happening in Kraal, my Liege. I beg of you to increase security.” Beads of sweat formed on his lip, and he shook like a leaf.

“Had Dmitri followed my guidance, he would not have suffered the fate he did. His death is regrettable, but unsurprising.” Karsan cupped one elbow with his hand, the other softly stroking his chin. “Pledge fealty to me once more, and I will guarantee your safety.”

The court wilted and paled. The first man who spoke looked up, his mouth falling open in surprise as he rubbed and twisted his gloves before quickly shutting his mouth after a sharp look from Karsan.

Chancellor Valdren rocked slightly on his heels, scratching at the skin of his hands till angry red welts formed. He glanced toward the exits, but he was held firm in the crowd like a school of fish with nowhere to turn.

Ksenia watched the proceedings from a darkened hallway, her sharp eyes and ears absorbing the court’s tangible anxiety. Their faces were becoming paler than the fresh apple she was peeling with Caromir’s sharpened edge.

Slowly, the court dragged its feet to form a shifty line in front of Karsan. A soft glow of light haloed his head, but the glimmer of his eye was sinister as he unsheathed Radegast from his hip and presented the gleaming edge to his court.

A guard stepped forth with a dagger as well.

Radegast’s dark, organ-like resonance bounced off every stone-cold surface, closing in on Ksenia’s head like a fist. Her nails dug into the fresh apple as she winced, but she fought to keep her eyes trained on the blade.

Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, made more harrowing by the low-cut brocade-silk corset that cinched her waist tightly. A dark burgundy chemise with translucent fabric grazed over her arms and plumed with heavy, matching red silk from her waist to skim the floor.