Page 74 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
We got along well enough. Veric had made me laugh several times throughout the day, and he was always kind and considerate. He matched his pace to mine and consistently offered breaks for rest or food. He shared everything he could with me, teaching me about his culture and his place within it.
Truthfully, I liked Veric.
It wasn’t the same passionate intensity I felt for Clay—the kind of connection that could either set us ablaze together or burn down the realm around us. Glancing at Veric didn’t send tingling anticipation racing through my veins. Holding his hand was nice, but it didn’t leave me acutely aware of every place our skin touched.
But it wassomething. There were much worse men to be married to. So, I would commit myself to nurturing that companionship for the rest of our lives.
As the sun climbed higher, the streets became more crowded and the noise of the market district began swelling around us. People jostled past, their voices rising in a cacophony of bartering, laughter, and chatter. Veric guided me through it all, one hand wrapped around me and the other firm on my back, but there was a growing sense of unease prickling at the edges of my awareness.
I couldn’t pinpoint it at first. A shift in the air, maybe, or the way certain merchants glanced nervously at the edges of the square. Even Veric seemed more alert, his amiable smiles fading as he scanned the crowd.
Then came the distant sound of boots. Heavy, measured, and growing louder.
The first soldier appeared at the far end of the square, his dark uniform a sharp contrast to the colorful stalls. Then another. And another.
The merchants fell silent first, their voices trailing off as the soldiers pressed forward. Shoppers paused, their gazes darting between the guards and each other. The festive energy of the market evaporated in an instant, replaced by tension so thick it was suffocating.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, gripping Veric’s arm.
He didn’t answer immediately, his expression darkening as more soldiers poured into the square.
Then chaos erupted.
“What are you doing?” Samsa cried, clutching the glass of tea leaves just as a soldier grabbed her arm.
The jar shattered on the stones, splintering into shards that cut into my ankles.
“Let go of her!” I demanded, reaching for the blade at my thigh.
My magic surged as I focused on the soldier holding Samsa, forcing his grip to loosen. She stumbled free, running into Nessira’s arms. But even as I acted, more soldiers closed in, their shouts ringing above the chaos.
“What is the meaning of this?” Veric demanded, his voice sharp as a soldier seized him.
It all happened too fast. Hands reached for me, for Samsa, for Nessira. They were ripped backwards away from me.
And suddenly I wasn’t looking at my ladies. I was seeing red hair, a hand wrapped around a throat, a floor covered in the blood of my friend.
Veric was dragged away, his protests drowned in the rising noise.
My magic split, wanting all at once to protect him and Nessira and Samsa, but I couldn’t do it all. Especially not with this many people in the square and with the guards moving so quickly. They surrounded me, their distrust obvious. Magic crackled in the air between us.
I ripped my power up from the depths of my gut prepared to unleash it when a sharp jab in my neck stopped me cold.
The syringe emptied, its contents icy as they spread through my veins. My legs gave out first, and I collapsed into the waiting arms of a soldier. My arms went numb next, and the dagger slipped from my fingers, clattering onto the stones with a loud clang.
I felt my magic fighting against the poison, pulsing desperately to defend me, but it was no use.
The last thing I saw before darkness consumed me was a shimmering golden thread, glowing faintly in the air before it disappeared into nothingness.
Chapter Twenty One
Iknew immediately that someone had moved me. The air around me was damp and stale, heavy with the scent of stone and earth. As I slowly blinked my eyes open, the dim lighting stung as my vision struggled to adjust. Slowly, the shapes around me came into focus—a dirty stone wall, a rough dirt floor.
I slumped against the wall, my body leaden and unresponsive. Whatever drug they had injected into me still coursed through my veins, leaving me entirely paralyzed. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even scream. All I could do was stare down at my body, at the shackles clamped tightly around my wrists and ankles.
Panic rose like a tide, threatening to consume me.
This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not after I’d been so diligent in being the person they wanted me to be. I’d done everything anyone had asked of me. And yet, here I was, locked away, just as I had been on that very first day in Athenia.
