wall. The jagged stone blocks of the wall gave nothing away. I ran my hands over its rough surface.
“I see nothing,” Septimus murmured.
Then, I spotted it. An inconsistency. A layer of dust covered most of the wall except one small block at the bottom, which seemed unusually clean. Leaning down, I pushed at the block hard. It sank into the wall as a line of the door popped open. An arrow flew from within the hidden opening’s dark abyss. If I hadn’t been crouching on the floor, the arrow would have torn through me. Instead, it sank with unerring accuracy into Septimus’s neck.
To my shock, the arrow penetrated. It had no trace of magic.
Septimus didn’t have a chance to scream. His vocal chords were instantly severed, and he could only manage a weak gurgle before falling to the floor.
“No!” Sergius cried.
The boy holding him took advantage of the moment to wriggle out of the brawny soldier’s grasp. The boy’s mother jumped off the bed toward her son. It was a mistake. Another arrow flew from the hidden room. Sergius dove to avoid it. His axe swung and hit the mother squarely in the chest. She fell back on the bed.
I grabbed the green crystal dangling from Septimus’s torn throat. I put it against a small, shiny, metal piece on my thread necklace. The metal stayed. I noticed the green crystal had cracked on Septimus’s fall. With a loud curse, I slammed my hand into the cold stone floor.
My body shook, rage battling with despair. So close, I was so close to freedom I could taste it. Yet, I couldn’t feed.
Another arrow flew with deadly accuracy at my head.
“Sphara!” I cried. To my disappointment, nothing happened. No magic. I remained bound. Inches from me, I knocked the arrow away with my sword. Pushing aside the defeat, I stood up and focused my mind. Septimus’s key should work. It should free me. The blasted crystal binding my magic should come off. Again, I tugged at the crystal on my neck. It didn’t budge. Then, I had no more time to think.
“You are dead, centurion.” Sergius grunted behind me. He lunged, swinging his axe at me. I kicked him again, in his groin. As he doubled over, I lifted my sword. I could have easily sliced his throat. A movement at the bedside caught my attention. The boy, his innocent face, peered at me with wide eyes, and I hesitated for a moment. One moment. Then, I ran Sergius’s heart through with the sword. He made gurgling sounds as I pushed him off my blade with a foot. The dead soldier fell to the ground in a pool of his own blood.
I turned to the boy. “It’s all right—”
The boy grabbed a fallen knife and hurled himself at me. I flexed my fingers and said, “Zyayti.” Nothing happened. I could have cried. Instead, I cold-cocked the kid. He crumpled to the floor. I caught him before he hit the ground and put him on the bed. Mustering up my energy, I grabbed a candle and went into the hidden room.
Light illuminated a room stacked neatly with shining coins and bejeweled artifacts. The amount of gold had me swallowing my own tongue. However, the true treasure stood in front, guarding the bounty. Flickers from the fireball glanced off the flaxen highlights in the hair of a small child, roughly four years of age. Garbed in a dress of fine purple, her tiny, piquant face held a bow with a notched arrow. My savior.
I mumbled, “Rescued by a little girl. I’ll never live this down.”
The pointed end of the notched arrow followed me as I approached her. It was her last arrow yet her big brown eyes, identical to Lady Aldith’s, watched with unworried defiance. Her nose wrinkling, she favored me with a truly adorable frown.
“I’m not a girl, Roman,” she spat at me. “I am a princess.”
I raised a brow. “Nor am I a Roman, princess. I am Briton.”
CHAPTER 6 – GARDEN OF EDEN
CHAPTER 6
GARDEN OF EDEN
A violent downshift of wind caused the airplane to wobble from turbulence. Inside its airy cabin, my eyes snapped open.
“Dorothy.” Vane groaned in my head. “That’s enough. I never wanted you to see that.”
My fingers jerked open and the amulet fell from my hand back into the safety of my pocket. My body shook, but it wasn’t because of the cold, sterile air blasting from the vents above me. I dug fingernails deep into the hard bench of