Page 105 of The Barbarian King's Assassin (Magic and Kings 1)
The stairs didn’t take long to descend, and on the main level, chaos reigned as soldiers were woken by the mighty pounding vibrating the temple walls and floor.
A grizzled man wearing a uniform with more stitching on it than others eyed Marell. “The king and his horde have escaped the dungeon and are attempting to penetrate the east wing. What are our orders?”
“Round up as many as you can. We leave now.”
The older man frowned. “Leave? By whose orders?”
“Mine.”
“Where’s the grand vizier?”
“Dead. Murdered by the same assassin who took our zariina. We must return to the emperor at once and tell him of the treachery.”
The soldier didn’t argue with Marell but began barking orders. Those who were awake rounded up those who weren’t.
Marell thrust me in the direction of a beefy fellow and said, “Don’t let her out of your sight.” As we exited the east wing, Marell glanced behind. “Drop the portcullis and smash the mechanism. That will slow them down.”
That wasn’t the only thing Marell did. This side of the falls sat on a narrow strip of land. I didn’t see what happened, having been draped face down over a horse. I only heard and then felt the rumble. Tasted the dust that suddenly filled the air.
What had he done?
A soldier whispered, “The whole east side of the temple just fell down.”
“He’s stronger than his father,” someone else replied.
Great. It appeared, in killing the grand vizier, I might have unleashed someone worse.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-TWO
The quick paceset by Marell and the soldiers soon got us far away from the clanging of sirens and the tongue-cloying dust. The horse I’d been unceremoniously folded over might not be a Weztrogian steed, but it still moved fast. And I got to enjoy every bone-jarring minute of it because Marell didn’t remove the spell. On the contrary, that first night he made it more permanent.
I sat still and quiet as a statue as he tied two leather strips around my wrists. I would have gasped if he’d given permission at the sickening sensation it gave me. I wanted to scream. Shake it off. Kill.
Instead, I got to suffer several days of being told when I could go squat behind a bush. When I could eat. Sleep. I could only speak if someone asked me a direct question. No one did, not even the servant assigned to me, the same veiled woman I’d seen with Zasha the day she died. She cared for me with brisk efficiency, not once saying a word. Perhaps she had no tongue?
To my surprise, I made it to the emperor’s palace without having been rescued by Jrijori. Did he not know I’d been taken? Not care? Perhaps he’d decided I wasn’t worth the risk.
I swallowed my disappointment when Konstantin never appeared either. Couldn’t blame him. He was already on the brink of war.
I finally sat upright for the ride into the city, but I was side saddle, clutching the pommel, annoyed at the veil I’d been told to wear over my face. The robe didn’t please me either. I missed my breeches and my knives, but I missed my sword most of all. No matter how I tried, no matter how I called, it didn’t come to me. I didn’t tingle at all.
The city proved pretty and familiar. I remembered those tall trees with the broad leaves at the top. The whitewashed buildings gleamed in the sun, as did the road of crushed stone glazed into place.
The palace proved more splendid than anything I’d seen, if too much at the same time. Garishly decorated with so much detail it actually repelled the eye. Colors clashed on walls and floors. The fabrics were rich in texture, just not harmonious in decoration.
It proved the rudest insult to force me to march past a wall of weapons—sharp blades, three-pronged tridents, battle axes—when I couldn’t muster the strength to reach for even one. The spell didn’t just make me docile, needing command to act; it wouldn’t let me fight. I couldn’t even slap the servant’s hands away when she groomed me.
How long could Marell keep me bound? I refused to believe this would last forever.
I didn’t get to see much of the inside of the palace. At Marell’s order, my servant guided me to a room where even more servants waited. Women of all ages fussed over me, not knowing who I was other than important. The grand vizier’s son had kept my identity secret thus far.
None of the people I encountered found it odd I didn’t speak. Then again, they didn’t talk to me. To them, I was just something to bathe and dress. A doll that didn’t recognize herself in the mirror once they’d finished pinning my hair, painting my face, and stuffing me into layers of ruffled finery.
I looked ridiculous.
When Marell arrived to fetch me, I noticed he’d bathed and changed as well. His beard was freshly groomed and oiled. His robes, sumptuous and ornate with mauve stitching. He lacked the hat his father had worn but wore the pointy-toed shoes.
He eyed me. “Even dressed in finery, you can’t manage to look adequately feminine and delicate.”