Palace of Silver (The Nissera Chronicles #3) - Hannah West Page 0,50

it. And yet I had been no safer in the dining room with the mercenaries. Lord Orturio could have violated or murdered me, and Captain Nasso would have simply watched.

We approached another studded pine door. Orturio withdrew a ring of iron keys from an interior pocket of his vest and selected one with a swirling filigree head.

“Why do you outbid the king of Erdem?” I asked.

“My other guest of honor will explain,” he said in Perispi. I realized too late that I had let surprise show on my face—now he would know for certain that I spoke the language of this country.

When he turned the knob, a draft licked over my skin, tracing my wounds with cool fingers. Closed stone stairs led to a dim underground space. I feared whatever awaited me down there, but I also feared the drunken men in the dining room, aroused by Lucrez’s performance and craving fare beyond food and wine.

“Come, a sip of renowned Casiani Trescara will help you recover from your harrowing journey,” Orturio said, gesturing for me to descend first. “Captain Nasso has heard I’m generous with my best wines, but that’s a myth I perpetuate. I save the best for conducting serious business.”

“If outbidding the ruler of one nation to kidnap the queen of another isn’t serious business, I don’t know what is,” I replied without moving.

Orturio laughed. “I have heard you were clever. I anticipate a productive partnership. But I don’t do business without a goblet in hand. Come.”

Business. Perhaps there was a chance to secure my freedom without the risk of Lord Orturio sending the Jav Darhu to drag me back or kill me. But what did he want? Who awaited me on the other side of this door? What was so valuable that he would pay a fortune to undercut King Agmur?

It’s too high a price for simply bedding me. Isn’t it?

The thought of him pinning me down with those brawny, hairy forearms and trapping me under his body made a cold stake of fear pierce my ribs. What if he considered my disinterest in men an entertaining challenge, or an aberration to be suppressed or eradicated?

Regardless, overpowering him—and whoever else awaited me—could be no more difficult than taking on the rowdy lot of inebriated murderers upstairs. So I descended. The powerful smell of fermenting grapes pervaded the air.

I heard Orturio follow me and lock the door behind him.

At the bottom, I found a dirt cellar containing oak barrels and large wooden vats. Their enormity made the arched ceiling feel low and confining, but the cool air kept me from spiraling into a panic—until I noticed a figure sitting at a table.

Sconces splashed light on a male face I recognized. With shoulder-length pale hair, exquisite cheekbones, a thin nose, and flawless cream skin, the man looked like an even less approachable facsimile of Devorian.

Mathis Lorenthi.

I shut my gaping mouth to prevent every curse I knew from spilling out. “You? You’re behind this?” I stalked down the dirt aisle and showed him the bloody lacerations encircling my wrists. “You fled the Realm Alliance’s punishment so you could hurt more innocent people?”

Mathis’s shapely lips melted into a diabolical smirk as my breathless interrogation hung in the air. “We did not arrange your kidnapping; we intercepted it. And it’s not my fault you saddled me with a punishment I could escape. You should have confiscated my elicrin stone and thrown me in prison. The probation was bewilderingly na?ve.”

He swirled and sipped from a glass of ruby wine, groaning with relish. Mathis was an Amplisensor, an elicromancer with the gift of enhanced senses. Any touch, taste, scent, sight, or sound he chose to perceive with his gift became exponentially more potent. He used it to amplify music, art, sex, and cuisine…and to manipulate others so he could enjoy his lavish lifestyle without interruption.

“There’s no need to convince you of the na?veté,” Mathis continued, tracing a graceful finger around the rim of his glass. “You wanted a more severe sentence, but you were the token mortal in the council chamber…or so most of your friends believed.”

I glared at him, my tongue on fire with a thousand scathing rebukes. “You think you’re clever for noting my displeasure? You didn’t intend to starve and kill your own people, so my friends balked. But I believe negligence and greed are no better than cruelty and malice, and your heart is home to all. They should have carved out your power and ripped the privilege of immortal