Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113936 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
At the wall, the guard’s hard hands spun her around and put her back against the plaster and the felt. Chains seethed with a metal chorus as her wrists were locked on the wooden pegs. She didn’t fight him. There was no way she could overpower the guard in any way that would work in her favor, and she was already bruised and fighting for breath from pain.
As the guard stepped back, there was a pause—perhaps he expected her to beg him for mercy, or at the very least ask him why again—
The knife came out of a holster at his waist, and as its blade caught the light with a flash, she began to tremble.
Leaning into her, he put the sharp edge to her throat, the hood’s folds providing no protection at all. Underneath her robing, she closed her eyes and realized she had always been waiting for death to come to her, but as a far-off kind of thing. She had lived through an attempt on her life already; she’d assumed old age would get her—
The male jerked his arm, the blade slicing through the hood.
“No!” But she wasn’t begging for her life. “No—”
As he peeled the folds back, Nadya ducked her head and leaned to the side, chasing the covering until it was gone. And then the lights were too bright for her eyes. Turning her face to her shoulder, she did what she could to hide herself.
“Jesus… Christ,” the guard whispered.
When he stepped back, she wanted to tell him to stop staring. But she couldn’t speak.
And then someone approached.
The footfalls were heavy, the pace quick, the arrival imminent. Nadya guessed who it was, and was not wrong.
The head of the guards stopped next to her male with the knife—and for a moment, all she did was stare.
“My hood,” Nadya said hoarsely. “Please… give it back to me.”
The other female cleared her throat. “You know why you’re here.”
“No, I do not.” Nadya squeezed her eyes closed, as if she could make the world go away if she just didn’t see anything. “Why.”
There was more silence, but she wasn’t going to solve that problem. It would just be a waste of energy.
“You killed my guard,” the female in charge said in a low voice.
“I most certainly did not. You will find all your males doing well, with several having already left—”
“No, the one whose corpse was removed. I have an eyewitness.”
Nadya frowned into the shoulder of her robe. “Then he doesn’t know what he saw—”
“You put a pillow over my guard’s face and suffocated him.”
“I did not.” Nadya shifted her eyes over, until the image of the taller, stronger, dark-haired female entered her vision. “So do whatever you will with me—”
It happened so fast. The female grabbed what little hair Nadya had and yanked it, nearly snapping her skull off the top of her spine. As she cried out, the harsh face came close to her own.
“You should be very afraid of me.”
Nadya pulled weakly against the pegs, chains rattling softly. “I am afraid of you, but there is nothing I can do. I am not strong enough to fight anyone or anything. Therefore I must accept what happens.”
She met the other female’s eyes—and was surprised to find a certain removal in them, as if the camp’s new leader had taken a step away, even as the distance between the pair of them was unchanged.
“Who did this to you,” came a quiet inquiry.
“He’s dead.”
“Who ahvenged you.”
Nadya blinked slowly. “I did. I took care of things… in my own way.”
The other female shook her head, and then her expression hardened. “You should have lied to me.”
“Why?”
“Because you just admitted you’ve murdered before.” The female’s eyes narrowed. “Not what I’d lead with if I were bargaining for my life.”
“You’re going to kill me anyway.”
And besides… the only thing Nadya had felt like living for was dead and gone. What did she care what happened to her now? Something about losing Kane had stripped her of whatever connection she had with the world.
Even though he had never been hers.
The sound of the knife being drawn out of its sheath was a ring of metal like a note sung, resonant, high-pitched, lingering in the still air.
The head of the guard’s face did not change as she brought it up. “At least you know what I must do. What is taken from me, I must redress.”
“What is your name?” Nadya asked.
That got a brow arch. “I don’t need a formal introduction to use this weapon. And if you’re trying to make some kind of connection, it’s not going to save you—”
“I don’t need to be saved and I have no regrets.” Abruptly, she dropped the act. “That guard who died in my clinic, he dragged a prisoner who was suffering from burns all over his body off that bed like he was a piece of meat. He showed no concern for the suffering. He enjoyed it, actually.”