Page 55 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Fifty-Five

EVIE

P ain.

Growing stronger and meaner the more I regained consciousness.

Something jostled my chest. No, my entire body.

Why was I so terribly tired? Even breathing was difficult, as if my lungs couldn’t be bothered to keep me alive.

I blinked the grogginess away. My eyes saw only a dirt track, flying underneath me. My body seized, fearful of the drop, but I couldn’t flinch away.

My hands were bound in front of me and I was tied tightly to the back of a horse, head hanging upside down, like a deer that had been freshly hunted.

Pure fear speared me. Where was I? Where were the others?

“We’ll be up north soon,” a boorish voice that didn’t sound quite human said from above me. It was muffled. A helmet, a mask, a piece of fabric.

If whoever had captured me wouldn’t kill me, the smell would. It reeked.

“We have to go east at the end of the road,” another voice said. Just as muffled, even rougher.

I tried shifting my wrists, but the thick rope coiled almost up to my elbow, making it impossible.

“She’s awake. Sap her before she fries us.”

With another hissed whisper, the world went dark and frightening once more.

I awoke as my black slammed against something solid.

“Don’t damage her. They need her blood.”

“Just putting her down while we revitalize.”

“Do it more carefully. Crack her head and she’ll spill out on the rocks before we arrive.”

I was surrounded.

Even with my eyes closed, I counted more than a dozen pairs of feet shuffling around me. Some more precise than others; three of them stumbled as their steps took them farther away from me, along with that horrifying stench.

But not far enough. I could still hear one of them exhaling heavily, putrid breaths alarmingly close to me.

I tried to keep my own breaths under control, so they wouldn’t know I’d woken up again. Whatever power they used had drained me, urging me to sink into the moist earth underneath me and never rise again.

Worst of all, I couldn’t feel Zandyr. That small pressure against my mind was gone and no matter how hard I tugged on our connection, there was nothing on the other end, only endless silence.

My heart threatened to gallop out of my chest.

No .

If I panic, they’ll hear me.

Think. Survive .

I’d been kidnapped.

I didn’t know where in the underworld I was.

The little pocket of power inside me was dormant. It felt like it was no longer stitched closed, but completely sealed, and I didn’t have the energy to unravel it.

Thoughts, one grimmer than the next, invaded my mind. They wanted to drain the blood out of me. I was nothing but a bag to them.

My skin was slick and itchy with sweat.

My hands and feet were tied hard enough to bite into my skin.

Think. Survive .

Beyond the rotten stench, I smelled moss. There was a whisper of leaves around me, but no animal sounds. Not even insects dared come near.

No hooves or neighs, the horses must have been farther away from us. Even if I could free myself, riding back to safety wasn’t an option–even if one of those horses would let me approach.

Zorin had tried to warn us. He’d felt something was wrong.

My body felt lighter, no longer dragged down by the gown, only shielded by my armor.

My ghostly reflection must have stolen my dress. Gods, Goose and Leesa were unarmed. I sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening.

No dress meant I could move faster. If I could move.

There was a low trickle in the background, a sound I couldn’t quite make out.

With my heart somewhere near my bound ankles, I opened my eyes the tiniest amount.

Not a dozen.

Thirty-four. Thirty-four hazy shadows with cloaks stood in a circle around a fire. They were throwing some herbs into it that smelled acrid and let off a choking smoke.

The corners of my eyes stung as my blood roared.

The shadows.

The masks.

The fire.

My parents’ killers had come for me once more.

Why hadn’t they just slit my throat and be done with it?

Because they wanted my blood. Who? Who would face the wrath of the Protectorate and Blood Brotherhood for me?

Whatever energy I still had distilled into revenge that burned through me. But it wasn’t the blinding fury of a caged animal that wants to rip off the hand that struck it.

No, this was a cold, calculated emotion that wanted to succeed. Not to slash and hope the blade landed. Death was easy. Simple.

I wanted them to regret ever setting eyes on my family.

They would pay. Dearly.

For that to happen, I needed to escape. There was no way I could fight all of them, especially in my state.

But I could hunt them down with the entire force of the Blood Brotherhood behind me–after I became queen.

“Hurry up,” one of them slurred, as if he couldn’t quite piece those two measly words together. He shivered, rubbing its hands together. “I need a good huff.”

More pungent herbs were thrown onto the fire, turning suffocating. Then the chanting started. I couldn’t make any sense of their gutural, garbled words. But a deep sense of dread settled in my belly as the flames licked higher, highlighting the underside of the decaying leaves. They were covered with some kind of slime that pulsed .

My stomach roiled. I needed to get out here. Fast.

I was in a forest that felt thick and unwelcoming. The trees had a gritty sleekness to them. The bark oozed pus, as if the forest was infected, sweating off some disease. It reminded me of the vines in the bowels of the Archives.

Bile rose in my throat and I swallowed it right back down.

I was not about to get drained of blood and tossed aside. Or whatever they planned on doing with my corpse.

In the cover of the loud chants and frantic inhales, I stretched my limbs against the rope. The bands dug into my skin like acid, but they didn’t budge. It felt like little hooks weaved through the fiber, to cause as much pain as possible.

Weapon .

I still had my bracelet on, the blade completely inaccessible in this position.

I gnashed my teeth and rubbed my forearms. The ropes tensed and nipped at my skin, chafing me raw.

Screw the pain.

Half-delirious from whatever spell crawled in my system and the rivulets of blood staining the rope, I was barely aware of the chanting growing stronger. My cloaked attackers growled and hunched, like beasts were about to rip out of them.

I smelled fear in the air. Mine.

I rubbed my forearms harder. The switchblade didn’t click open. I would’ve broken my own wrist to break free, like a trapped animal gnawing off its leg, but I couldn’t get the angle right.

I took a deep, centering breath, even as my heart raced.

Control.

All my energy went to that little pocket of power.

Don’t fail me now .

I trembled from the strain. But finally, unbelievably, one of the stitches moved to the side. It was enough for a ghost of a blue tendril to race down my arms, coiling around the ropes.

Instead of the inferno that usually consumed me, all I felt was cold. Numb. Wrong. One breath away from freezing. But the tendril burned through the first thread enough to move my wrist at an aching angle.

Finally, the switchblade clicked. I almost cried in relief.

Silently, I cut the ropes caging my feet. It was like cutting through metal, the blade hissing and straining. Thread by thread, the rope fell to my feet as the smoke from the fire turned suffocating. My lungs begged to cough, while my attackers inhaled it like their lives depended on it. A vial splashed into the fire, sending green flames up in the air. Whatever liquid was inside it made their movements faster, jerkier. Unhinged.

More blood spilled all over my uniform as I cut through the ropes on my arms.

But finally, mercifully, the last thread loosened.

In the next breath, I slid along the rock I’d been thrown against, not taking my eyes off them. Thirty-four. Thirty-four wretched souls I would hunt down and get my answers.

When my back finally met air, I crawled backwards like a spider. I gagged at the slime and pus my hands and legs touched along the way.

The kidnappers began howling. The sound slashed straight through my veins.

When I was sure they wouldn’t notice, in the shade of a tall, burly tree, I finally rose. The world spun around me so hard and fast, I hugged the crumbling bark to keep from falling.

Dark spots raced in front of my eyes. Every fiber of my being begged to lie down and just rest.

“No,” I muttered. To myself, to the fates trying to get me, to the gods that clearly weren’t listening.

I straightened, swaying on the spot. But I moved.

With my body betraying me, with my power ignoring me, with the connection with Zandyr unreachable, I moved.

One foot in front of the other, a trail of blood behind me. I stumbled, I cursed in my mind, I hurt.

But I didn’t give up.

They must’ve drugged me. It was the only explanation for reality slipping away from me with every blink. Magic couldn’t do this…could it?

I didn’t know where I was going, just far away from those creatures. A weird rustle resounded from up ahead.

Just as the howls grew louder, my right foot went through a rotten mushroom that came up to my ankle.

A rancid cloud emanated through the air along with a loud crack.

No .

The chanting stopped.

“She’s run away, you idiots! Find her!” that same boorish voice screeched, beating against my bones.

Panic seized my muscles, hurling me into a shaky run.

I moved faster as steps thundered behind me, squeezing between the crammed trees. This forest was thick and filled with malice, trying to block me.

That sound. That rustle. There was something up ahead.

It trickled a gram of hope in me. It was all I had on my side now.

Bursting through the thicket, I stumbled onto my knees on a bank. A river. Long and wide and dark and fast.

Water. Why the fuck did it have to be water?

I fisted my palms in the thick mud. I couldn’t go back. Running along the bank made me an easy target.

I had to cross it.

All my instinct blared at me to back away.

Run. Run away .

The steps quickened in tune with the hiss of blades cutting through the leaves.

I got up and took one step in the water.

Something big and thick slithered across the surface of the water, rippling it. It looked like a scaly hump.

There was something massive in those frightening depths and I didn’t plan on becoming its midnight snack.

I blinked at the trees. Vines. Slim and barely hanging onto the branches.

They were the only way.

Only the gods knew how I managed to grab hold of one and hoist myself up.

Everything turned into a dim haze as I propelled myself away from the slimy trunk, holding onto the vine for dear life.

But my hands were tainted with sleek blood. Mine.

I felt myself slipping. I held on with all the strength Adara had trained in me.

But it didn’t matter.

Halfway across the river, the starved vine snapped, and I fell into the darkness.