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A man was in her bedroom.
She opened her mouth to scream.
“It’s me,” the shadow said.
Relief poured through her veins, though her heart still hammered from his unexpected appearance. “Jekem—you frightened me.” But if her bodyguard was here in the middle of the night, it couldn’t be for a good reason. She was instantly more alert, and she scrambled to sit up. Her wounded leg bent and she hissed in pain. “What’s wrong?” she asked through gritted teeth.
Her bodyguard let out a slow exhale. “This was the best moment,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
She frowned, not understanding.The best moment?For what? It was late at night, and the room was pitch black. Why hadn’t he carried in a lamp?
Jekem stopped beside her bed. Something in his sudden stillness sent a chill across her skin. “What’s going on?” Despite her best efforts, her voice trembled.
“I thought there was a chance the fates would save me from this,” he said quietly. “Our travels with Serene were not safe, after all. But Hanna told me today that you plan to return to Zennor as soon as you’re healed, and I’m afraid I cannot let that happen.”
Imara's fingers knotted in her quilt. She opened her mouth to call for—
His fist hit her temple.
Imara gasped as she fell to the mattress, her vision sparking. As she recoiled, her leg reflexively jerked, and tears stabbed her eyes as the stitches in her skin tore. She sucked in a breath to scream, but Jekem shoved a pillow in her face, pressing down hard.
The pillow smothered everything—her scream, her breath; sight and sound.
Panic attacked her. She thrashed on the bed, but Jekem only climbed on top of her, still pressing the pillow against her face with one hand while the other captured her wrists in a painful vice. She thought she heard him say something, but she couldn’t make out the muffled words.
His knees dug into her sides as he straddled her. The bones in her wrists grated as he held them immobile in his fist, trapped above her head.
Her lungs burned. She squirmed beneath him, trying to buck her hips to dislodge him, but he was too heavy—too strong.
She was going to die.
No.
Desperation caught her. She dug her heels into the mattress and shoved. Agony sliced her injured knee, but she didn’t stop trying to throw him off. She twisted her head back and forth, but the pillow remained in place. In fact, the pressure increased until she feared he’d crush her skull.
Her head pounded. Her ears roared. She screamed, but even she barely heard it.
The bedroom door banged open, and the weight on top of her vanished. Her trembling hands clawed at the pillow, tearing it away from her face.
She sucked in air.
Her body shook. She was covered in sweat. Her knee was an inferno of pain, and her cheeks were wet with tears she hadn’t felt until now. Her chest rose and fell in heavy gasps, and her eyes darted around the room.
In the darkness, she could hardly make out the two shadows, grunting as they fought each other.
A pained hiss and a thin curse revealed Kaz’s identity, giving a name to her rescuer—her senior bodyguard was fighting Jekem.
Imara’s heart thudded, and she wanted nothing more than to run. But she couldn’t. Her leg would never support her. Her throat felt raw, but she cried out for Hanna.
It was a pathetically weak shout.
There was a terrible, fleshy thud, followed by the crash of a body hitting the floor.
Imara whipped her head toward the shadows, where now only one man stood.
Terror flashed through her.
Then Kaz boomed out, “Hanna!”
