Page 8 of Immortal Origins (Chronicles of the Immortal Trials #1)

Ambrose had been called many things in her life, but a ‘lady’ had never been one of them. With no choice, she forced a grin, passed the guard, and made her way down the hallway. Achingly aware of his footsteps now in cadence behind her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“I love the palace this time of night.” The guard’s voice cut the silence like a finely crafted knife. Sharp and deliberate. “It’s as though the whole world just melts away.”

Unfortunately .

“What does have you up so late, sir? The nobility has been retired for some time now. The guard was off a while ago. It can’t be that you’ve just been relieved?” Ambrose poked, hoping to keep him talking until they reached the dorms.

“You’re very inquisitive for a servant.” His gaze bore holes in the back of her spine.

Any day before this one and Ambrose would’ve said she loved how long and wide the corridors were, how they went on forever and one could get lost in them. She didn’t feel that way now…

Now it felt like there was nowhere to run.

“You’ve been such a generous escort. The servants’ quarters aren’t far from here. I wouldn’t want to keep someone so important any longer and take advantage of your kindness. I’d be happy to walk the rest of the way.”

Run was what she was really thinking.

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” His footsteps stopped.

“No sir! No. I simply didn’t want to take advantage of your kind heart when I’m sure you’d much rather be back in the comfort of your own bed.” She hoped her words would be enough to turn his attention.

There was a moment of silence that hung in the air like an executioner.

“You could be comfortable in my bed too.” His words felt more like a threat than an invitation.

“I-I couldn’t possibly sir, it wouldn’t be right of me to assume the companionship of someone of your status,” she rushed out, turning to face him.

She needed to see him .

Stopped a few paces behind her, his facial features twisted in the candlelight.

The cape he’d been holding was pooled at his feet like a pool of blood.

Every nerve in her body told her to run.

To get away as far and fast as she could.

She mapped out the amount of paces left to the servant dorms but they were still too far to thank him, run, pretend like she was really tired, and disappear.

No.

To run now would be to run from a ranking member of the Imperial Guard.

Not a light offense.

Weighing her options, she tried to think of the words that could turn him, bore him, or make him go away back to his bed and forget all about her.

“You know, you’re quite pretty.” He cocked his head to the side. The light of her candle flickered and she caught a good look at his rank.

Not good.

“Thank you, sir. That’s a huge compliment from someone of your status.” The words spilled from her mouth as quickly as her thoughts raced. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears as fear told her to run .

“How about a proper thank you then?” No sooner were the words out of his mouth, he closed the gap between them.

Her heart beat so hard she was sure he’d be able to hear it with how close he was.

She knew there were predators in the palace and she’d fallen right into this one’s trap.

His hands snaked their way around her waist, one of them closed around her wrist and pulled it behind her back while the other reached up to wrap his fingers in her braid, pulling it down so her face would meet his.

He pressed his body firmly against hers and brought their faces so close together his hot breath spread across her cheeks.

“You know, you servants are one of my favorite things about being stationed in the palace. Royalty always gets the best of the best and you’re all just so pretty and tempting …

I just can’t help myself. It’s like you’re here just for me, ripe for the taking.

And no one stops me. No one says anything.

” Her scalp tingled as he brought his mouth do wn to where her neck met her shoulder and pressed himself even further into her.

As his lips brushed her skin she wished she could rip out of it. Her body went stiff against his.

She couldn’t refuse him. To refuse him would be a dangerous offense. A servant who outright defied the guard defied the gods.

She could not refuse him.

It would be a crime that could forfeit her life. His body towering over hers made her feel like a mouse caught by a cat while the feline decided just how it wanted to play with it. How much would the little mouse struggle?

She knew there was nothing she could do. She should submit, and it would be over before she knew it.

How long could it last anyway?

Were a few excruciating moments worth being executed for?

Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

Maybe she could forget all about it after. Like it never happened.

Throw it from her mind.

His hand slipped from her wrist and found its way to the brooch that was the only thing holding her gown in place. With one click on that tiny lock he could pull it away from her with ease. Panic boiled in her chest.

She reminded herself this was her duty. She couldn’t say no.

His fingers swept over the only piece of jewelry given to her kind and pressed on the tiny gold clasp—

NO !

A blast of energy ripped them apart, the guard’s body thrown across the corridor but he landed on his feet.

Her breaths came desperately as she stared at him and processed what she’d just done.

She looked from her extended hand to the guard that stared back at her with only a sliver of confusion slapped on top of rage.

The shock on his face a mirror of her own before he reigned it into a look of murderous determination.

No going back now.

Ambrose cleared her mind and honed all her attention.

With the shock quickly fading, the man in front of her had just become the most dangerous thing in the palace.

A soldier who had been beaten down and built back up into the perfect weapon.

Never before had she been more grateful for her training.

The moment she’d been preparing for but never thought would actually come.

Her brother knew she would never fall in line.

The endless lectures of accepting her place and the order of things.

How they couldn’t have control but they could be grateful for the gifts that were given.

Lectures they both knew fell on deaf ears.

All while he trained her until her back gave out.

She would never accept her place. And now it could be what signed her death warrant.

Maybe Ms. Asquith was right about it getting her killed one day.

But if she was fated to die today, she wasn’t going down without a fight. She slid her feet into the fighting stance that had become second nature to her over the long nights in the woods. How natural it felt. But how different this opponent would be. How different this fight would be.

“You think you have a choice ?” The guard threw his head back and the laugh that left his throat was a mixture of hysterical and excited.

“I always have a choice,” she spat back at him and threw her gown to the ground. It would be no help to her now and it would only hinder her in hand-to-hand combat. Servant uniforms weren’t made for combat mobility the way the rest of Eltorian fashion was.

The guard stared at her naked body like she’d just spread the kingdom’s greatest feast in front of him.

There was no charge around him, so the likelihood of him being a mage was slim at best. She at least had that advantage.

But, he had one of his own. The hilt of his sword glinted from his side as his hands expertly raised it from its home.

Ambrose blew out her candle, plunging them both into complete darkness. Their uneven breathing the only sound that cut the air between them.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun breaking you.” His voice echoed off the walls as though coming from every direction.

The crackle under Ambrose’s skin wanted to force its way out. Out of her very nerves. But she forced her channels to calm.

Breathe.

Her magick wasn’t strong enough yet, and she had no weapon to protect herself. If she wanted to live, she was going to have to be smart.

So she turned on her heel and ran.

The night air stung her face and throat as she willed her muscles to run as fast as they could carry her.

Her legs burned with every step she took but she pushed on.

Where could she go? The servant dorms were now out of the question.

As soon as word got out, or if he followed her and told them what happened—that she defied him—she could be executed on the spot.

She knew the city. Knew how to get around without being seen or noticed. She’d done it hundreds of times with Adym. She knew exactly where that crack would be waiting for her to slip outside and be gone forever, nothing but a memory.

Pain exploded into the back of her head with a dull crack and she crumpled to the ground. Something wet dripped from her hair to the marble floors, staining it with her terror. Her vision waved in and out, head spinning as she forced herself to focus.

No. No. No. No. Get up. Move !

She placed the palms of her hands to the cold floor but when she went to lift herself she was met with the force of a boulder on her back. The guard’s knee pressed into her spine, pinning her to the ground.

She couldn’t breathe.

“Oh yes. I’m very much going to enjoy breaking you,” he hissed the words in her ear, dragging them out as though savoring the thought.

She wanted to puke.

She couldn’t breathe.

“I’ve never had one fight back before.” His knee pressed harder. “It’s fascinating. Honestly, I think it makes it better.”

She couldn’t breathe!

A blinding light pierced the darkness, assaulting both of them.

A light so bright, Ambrose couldn’t see where it ended or began.

Just that it filled the entire corridor, the entire wing, maybe even the entire palace.

As fast as it appeared, it vanished, allowing her just enough time to take advantage of the guard’s confusion and leap from the floor, his sword in her hands .

She didn’t have time to think. Overthinking right now could get her killed. She had the full advantage. She had her magick, and now his sword. It was bigger than she was used to. Her arms protested, threatening to buckle under the weight but she held strong.

There was no other option. She turned on her heel one final time, with a speed that could only have been born from countless hours of her own training and faced her opponent.

A squelching sound and guttural scream invaded the corridor and echoed off the walls as though the palace itself was screaming. The darkness claiming anything other than sound.

The scream came from the guard, whose facial expression was forever stamped into a look of disbelief as they both looked down at the sword buried in his chest.

This time, there was no cold.

No hunger.

No anger.

Not even a light behind his eyes.

The guard was dead.