Bound. Jen Colly

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СКАЧАТЬ Again. He’d survived his father, more than his fair share of combat, and his own execution, but this disaster of a forest might just kill him.

      To hell with conserving energy for his return trip. Keir slipped into Spirit, leaving the thorny branch swinging in the air, grasping for something no longer in reach.

      Speeding past the treacherous underbrush and through a tree or two, he crossed the length of forest and appeared at the edge, visible once more. The trees thinned here, and down the hill in a clearing rested the silhouette of an aging chateau. The towers jutted up like a fortress, blocked, dark, and imposing even in the night. Somewhere beneath it, Balinese hid from the world.

      How had demons found the remote city? Whatever brought them back from their presumed extinction, Keir prayed they kept their focus on Balinese. Arianne didn’t need another problem stacked onto her shoulders.

      “Don’t screw this up,” he muttered, pulling his hands from his pockets. The night had turned chilly, the dew outside the forest’s shelter had turned to frost, and the grass crunched under his boots with each step toward Balinese.

      The sloping descent from forest to chateau stretched on, not exactly because of the distance, but from the illusion of not gaining any ground. As he approached, what he’d assumed was part of the main structure had separated into a knee-high stone wall surrounding the base of the chateau. Interesting.

      Without the moon lending its glow tonight, it took time for his eyes to adjust and find the opening in the wall near the center. This was without a doubt the entrance, but he didn’t care for how it funneled him directly to the front gate. Smart move by Balinese, but it made him twitchy.

      The path to the gate was wider than he’d expected. Water sloshed somewhere beneath him, not the sound of waves, but more like a fish had been startled. He crossed a bridge? Balinese had a moat? Wolfe would never believe this.

      Keir stopped at the arched door. He took the silence as a cue to speak first. “I’m the emissary for Lady Arianne of Galbraith. I seek an audience with your lord.”

      No answer, but the smallest whisper of movement from his right drew his expectant attention. The attack came from his left. A beefy hand clamped over his shoulder, slammed his face into the stone arched entry of Balinese. The collision momentarily jarred loose any coherent thought, and possibly a tooth. He tasted blood.

      Keir spit the blood onto the wall. “That’s not legal.”

      When he didn’t get a reaction, he craned his head back, trying to get a look at his assailant. The man pulled him from the wall only to smash him back against the stones. The brute had just violated every law pertaining to a messenger, twice. Not a great start.

      Keir ignored the insult of his mistreatment, and made a conscious effort to relax muscles that had automatically primed for a counterattack. He was here on Arianne’s behalf and would represent her well, which meant controlling the urge to disarm these men and bleed them with their own weapons.

      A set of fists punched into his back, pinned him against the cool stones. He bit down a growl, allowed a second pair of hands to check him for weapons. They recovered only his identification papers. The crisp papers unfolded behind him.

      “See? I told you the truth. Mind easing up?”

      A third man approached, wrenched Keir’s arms back, and tied his wrists together. Suddenly, he was a prisoner. One wrong word might give them a reason to execute him. Not that they could actually follow through, but the attempt would be amusing.

      Something big must have happened here for them to perceive an unarmed messenger as a threat. Time to shut his mouth, play nice, and see what kind of information he could salvage from this mission.

      A sword point pressed against his back, forcing him to move forward. Another Guardian took him by the elbow and led him inside, through a kitchen and down the cellar stairs. When they reached a thick wooden door in the midst of large wine barrels, he was shoved through.

      His first peek into Balinese was unimpressive. Bare, bland walls seemed to stretch out forever in the dim light. Eventually the corridor curved left, then widened, morphing into a splendid hallway.

      The Guardians kept a brisk pace, ushering him past elaborately framed paintings and lavish furniture. The right items were here to suggest life, but the city felt empty, abandoned. Few people traveled through the corridors, and those they did pass dashed away.

      Keir wasn’t so sure he was who the people avoided. He’d caught a glimpse of his captors, and these guys were on the scary side. The cocky bastard on his right might not be large, but he moved like a predator. Certainly intimidating, but the guy on his left could have been pulled straight from a horror movie. With each step, his hair lifted off his cheek, rhythmically revealing some serious burn scarring. The damaged, puckered skin covered his ear, cheek, and trailed down his neck.

      The horror film star pulled him to a halt in the center of an octagon-shaped foyer, and waited, but not for long. A man stalked toward them from another corridor, his expression more serious than the goons marching him through the city.

      “Walk with me,” the new guy demanded. The Guardians released Keir, but followed behind them. They veered into another corridor before the man spoke again. “Ivan?”

      The predator, Ivan, handed over his papers. “We found these on him.”

      The man scanned the document as he walked, then tilted his head ever so slightly in Keir’s direction. “Am I to believe that Galbraith has woken up and joined the rest of the world?”

      Keir shrugged as best he could in his uncomfortably bound position. “Believe what you want. I’m only here to deliver a message.” The hallway abruptly ended at a single door. He didn’t like this. One door and three trained men. The odds were not pretty. “Where are we going?”

      The man in charge opened the door. “You wanted an audience with my lord.”

      Keir studied him. It felt like a trap, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. It truly didn’t matter. He could escape easily and instantly if needed.

      The two Guardians took a sentinel position on either side of the door, and when they did, he accepted his good fortune and entered the narrow room. He passed a powdery blue sofa set into the wall, surrounded by old mirrored panels, and nothing else. A waiting room.

      Waiting rooms were a rarity, and never this nice. If this place had been set up at all like Galbraith, the council room should be on the other side of the door ahead. His escort opened the door, allowed Keir to enter ahead of him.

      A large table in the center of the room confirmed his guess. Definitely the council room. He stood at the short end of a rectangular room. Inset mahogany bookshelves lined the walls to his right and left, separated by evenly spaced wooden pillars that rose to the ceiling, connected to a beam, and met a pillar on the other side of the room.

      The door swung open behind them and Keir turned, expecting to find a somewhat altered version of the lord he’d seen from a distance many years ago. Not even close. The man who walked in was rather short, and though his face appeared incredibly young, his eyes said otherwise.

      The man at Keir’s side stepped closer, clamped a hand down on his shoulder, and said, “Attempt to harm my lord and I will personally disembowel you.”

      His typical try it made an effort to escape his lips, but goading wouldn’t СКАЧАТЬ