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A call for help ripped from my throat, but I feared it was muted.
In the suffocating darkness beneath the sack, I fought for my freedom, determined to escape the clutches of my kidnappers. But when I felt thick fabric under my body and the telltale swoop of a hovercraft plunging into the air, I knew it was too late.
Chapter Eleven
Olympia
It was foolish to struggle against several pairs of hands that secured my limbs, yet I had to try. Perhaps it was a misplaced sense of survival, or simply a refusal to give up and play into the hands of my kidnappers.
They were betas, the lot of them. Their neutral scents were clear indications of their status. I was lifted into the air for several heart-rending minutes, my protests blown away by the wind, before I was set down on something soft. Something plush.
A couch, perhaps. Or a loveseat.
The foul-smelling bag was whipped off my head, and I drew in a grateful breath. I couldn’t remember the air tasting this sweet, this fresh. I gorged on it, taking in the scent of metal and leather that my kidnappers brought with them.
They were bold, nabbing me in the middle of the day and harming my guards in the process—an act of high treason that could see their heads separated from their bodies in a heartbeat.
“Who sent you?” I demanded, pulling against the bonds that made my hands immobile.
Silence was my only response.
I couldn’t begin to guess where they had brought me. We’d traveled for merely an hour or so, if the sun’s position was any indication. Given that distance, we could be anywhere along the borders or much, much deeper in the northern tribeland.
My lips were cracked and dry as I ran my tongue over them, parched from attempting to chastise my kidnappers through the revolting bag.
My surroundings didn’t provide any indication of my whereabouts.
All around me were perfectly modest furnishings—things that belonged in the home of someone who had a few coins to spare at the end of the month. If the seat below was any indication, I was in the home of a noble person. Or perhaps a merchant. The bed that dominated the room and the writing desk in the corner seemed to be of impeccable quality as well.
The room itself was shaped oddly, although the gold-edged wall coverings fought to offset the curving brick. As I gathered my breath, I studied the intricate patterns on the walls, trying to decipher the designs imprinted on them. They ran along the curve of the walls, behind the headboard of the bed and over the double doors that had been locked securely after the kidnappers’ exit.
A turret.
Now, that made sense. With the distinct crispness of the air and the curvature of the room, I hypothesized that they’d locked me at the very top of a tower with only one access point. I strained to glance out of the window at the opposite end, but only caught the wispy tails of clouds spurring past. No trees, no foliage. We were probably too high up for that. There would be little chance for me to use my powers to facilitate an escape as long as I was kept away from nature.
Someone had put a lot of thought into this kidnapping.
A curse tumbled from my lips, and I tugged at the bindings in frustration.
The double doors flew open, slapping against the silken coverings that adorned the wall behind. The thick, addictive scent of hard citrus and dark pine preceded the leather-clad figure—I caught a lungful of her scent before she walked into the room.
“Zoei.” Relief made my shoulders sag.
She was dressed for battle. That much was clear. Gone was the velvet and the ruby-studded shirt. In its place was polished leather that gleamed in the afternoon light. It was cut for her figure, high in the waist with ample room for her chest, and although the leather was worn with constant use and age, the gold trim and quality of the fabric was a nod to her wealth.
A range of weapons hung from her belt—her sword, which she had named Amnesia when she was no older than twelve—and a series of daggers that lay in their sheaths.
Last night, I had made the acquaintance of a King. This noon, I stared down a warrior.
The sudden change in demeanor was beyond me.
“Yes, it’s me.” She slammed the door shut with the tip of her boot, the old wood shuddering with impact. “Surprised to see me alive?”
“What are you talking about?” I felt my head tilt in question as I gazed up at her. “Could you untie me?”
“Don’t give me that innocent act, Olympia. I fell for it once, but not again.Never again,” Zoei snarled, crossing her bare arms over her chest. Thick, green veins stood out in sharp relief on her dark skin, drawing my attention for an ill-fated moment.
“I don’t understand.” I shook my head, still struggling against the bonds. “And this isn’t funny. If you wanted to speak to me, you could’ve asked for a meeting.”
