Royal Recruit - Susan Grant Page 0,77

she became more lucid, common sense sounded an alarm.

It was late, dark, and she didn’t know where she was going. Her husband had been killed and no one had let her see his body. Another tragic accident.

She dug in her heels in protest. “I want to see Jared.”

“Not now.” He pulled her half off her feet, lifting her to his face. He appeared angry and scared at the same time.

“Please. I want to see him.”

“There is no time. We’re going to a ship now. You are no longer safe here. You will see and hear things you don’t like, but say nothing. Heed my words, Goddess. No matter what happens, no matter what you hear, say nothing.”

A violent memory ripped through her mind: the sound of another panicked voice: “Stay here, Keira. Do not move. Do you understand me? No matter what you hear, do not come out.”

Say nothing...

A tear tracked down her cheek, grief welling up as Tibor resumed his punishing pace.

“We’ll take it from here, Frix.”

He guard jerked to a shocked halt at the sound of voices. Keira lifted her heavy head. Vemekk and Rissallen blocked their way. “What’s he doing here, Ismae?” Tibor demanded.

“I could ask the same of you, Captain, but I’d long ago suspected your part in this. We all share the same end goal—delivering the goddess to them.”

Them…

The Drakken!

“The warlord himself asked that I do this, Kellen. You have not been part of the plan.”

“Oh, I have. In more ways than you know, Tibor. Everything I have done was to bring us to this day.”

She was the last of her line. These people were supposed to protect her. Their treachery tore her heart out. She started to protest then bit her lip. “No matter what you see, no matter what you hear, say nothing.” Was she to simply stand and listen as they argued over her fate like scavengers over a carcass? All her life she’d been told to be silent, and where had it gotten her? All her life she’d remained silent as horrible events had unfolded around her.

She may not have been able to change the course of those events, but doing nothing, saying nothing, had sentenced her to a life of frustration and vulnerability. A useless life. A life that had been meaningless until Jared had come into it. He’d encouraged her to speak up; he’d badgered her relentlessly to raise her voice and speak out.

If your voice was not important, would they ask you to stifle it?

No, her voice was powerful and that was why the man she loved had wanted her to raise it. For him, for her people, she would do so. For you, Jared.

“Unhand me!” She struggled to free herself from Vemekk.

“Keira, no,” Tibor warned.

“Give her something, Ismae!” Rissallen said urgently.

“Coward.” Keira sneered at him. “Traitor.” Her legs folded as the sickening hot-cold of the sleeping drug plunged down her spine. She looked up at Vemekk, who held the blunt tip of a med applicator in her hand.

Tibor shoved Vemekk. The woman hit the ground with a thud, her robes swishing. The glint of a pistol showed through the layers of fabric.

Keira tried to shout a warning but no sound came out. A zap of light crossed the small distance and Tibor made a horrible sound, coming up on his toes. He collapsed in an immaculate heap, his long legs and polished boots sprawled over the floor.

Vemekk came to gather her up.

“Do not do this.” Keira backed away, her hand extended. “Or you will be cursed, you and your family, for all eternity.”

“I’m not a believer.”

“The Dark Reaches of Hell is filled with nonbelievers, Ismae.”

The woman’s gaze faltered at the sight of Keira’s certainty. Then she swore in disgust. “Enjoy your new husband,” she whispered in her ear as Keira lay helpless. “I went through a lot of trouble to deliver you to him.” The voice grew muffled and soon it didn’t sound at all.

Jared sputtered and coughed as awareness rushed back in a torrent of cold air. His vision swam as he slid over the floor, facedown and paralyzed. He fought panic. It was like one of those dreams where you try to move but can’t.

He was lifted next and carried, his legs dangling. Pale robes brushed across his face. Whispers. The swish of slippers. Then it grew dark, but warmer.

What had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was meeting with Rissallen in his office. Slowly it dawned on him that he must have