Page 59 of Anathema

Spears of icy adrenaline pulsed through me, and I scrambled over my skirts, pushing to my feet again, and charged toward him.

The moment I was upon him, he reached out and grabbed my throat, trapping the air. I clawed at his hand, eyes on the other guard, who shoved Aleysia into the carriage. Desperate, I yanked the paring knife from my dress pocket and, without aim, stabbed his forearm.

The guard let out a growl, and as soon as he released me, I bolted for the carriage. A fiery pain struck my scalp, and my body flew backward at a hard yank of my hair. The guard pulled me against him, his bloody arm pressed to my throat.

“Take me instead!” The sharp-edged words scraped across my dry throat, as I screamed them in desperation. “Please! I’ll take her place! I'll take her place!” The view of Aleysia disappeared, as he spun me around and hauled me across the yard toward Agatha, Lolla, Uncle Felix, and Uncle Riftyn, who did nothing to save my sister. Nothing.

One, hard blow to my back, and I flew to the ground before them, the force of his fist knocking the wind out of me. Writhing against the cold dirt, I wheezed, failing to draw in enough air. Twinges of panic exploded through me, the view shrinking. Until, at last, the first small breath forced its way into my lungs. I coughed and retched, the vacuous hole in my chest slowly expanding on each breath. When I finally turned over to my side, the carriage had begun down the road.

“No!” I rasped, crawling, clawing at the dirt to get to my feet.

Still fighting for air, I gasped, tears blurring my eyes while I watched the carriage disappear over the hill.

Hands grabbed for me, and on a scream, I swatted them away, but they wrangled me into the tight grip of my two uncles.

Kicking and slamming my heels in the dirt, I fought to get loose, as they dragged me backward.

Agatha stepped toward me, and for one, brief moment, I caught a flash of what I mistook as sympathy in her eyes. I stilled for a moment, tears blurring her form. The moment the tears broke away, I realized it wasn’t sympathy, at all.

A cold, sharp smack smarted my cheek. “You are an embarrassment. Both you and your whore of a sister.”

Rage tore through me, and I spat in her face. Through a hard shake of my arm, I felt the bruising squeeze of Uncle Riftyn’s grip.

“Do not make it worse!” He dug his fingers into my arm in warning.

I turned to him, teeth grinding. “You did nothing. You let them take her. And you did nothing!”

Another smack struck my jaw, that one all knuckles and bones, sending a flash of light to the backs of my eyes—not from Agatha, but Uncle Riftyn. A zap of pain shot to my sinuses, my jaw throbbing.

“Take her to Moros,” Agatha said. “I’ve washed my hands of the both of them.”

Hands and ankles bound in tight rope, I lay on the floor of the carriage, my head tormenting me with the visuals of Aleysia being dragged away. Tears streaked down my temples, pooling onto the floor beneath me. The copper scent of blood filled my nose, my cheekbone and split lip throbbing from the ache of Uncle Riftyn’s hit.

I hadn’t bothered to peer up at the window once on the ride over, but as the carriage rolled to a stop, I broke from the mire of thoughts at voices outside the carriage. Moros. And the head servant I’d met.

“Gather her bags and get her settled in her room,” Moros said in a stiff and dispassionate tone.

The door swung open, and Uncle Riftyn appeared, his downtrodden expression telling me he might’ve felt a small bit of remorse for earlier. Beside him, Uncle Felix stood without a speck of emotion, his countenance as dead as those of the corpses he carved.

When Uncle Riftyn gripped my bound ankles, I kicked out at him, knocking him back a step. He growled and gathered my feet again, giving a hard yank. The wooden floorboards scraped over my skin with the sting of slivers, and he lifted me out of the carriage, throwing me over his shoulder like a lifeless sack of flour.

“Remove her binds,” Moros ordered, and Uncle Riftyn halted, carefully setting me down on the gravelly path.

“She attacked the Vonkovyan soldiers. It’s why we bound her up like this.” Uncle Riftyn lowered to his knee and went to work on the knot at my ankle. By god, the moment he set me free, I’d give him a swift kick to the face.

“Wouldn’t you, in her position?” Moros asked, and I glanced up, mildly surprised, his comment dragging my attention from the rope that’d bitten so hard into my ankles, I could hardly wiggle my toes. “Surely, you would have, given your responsibility in the matter.”

Uncle Riftyn cleared his throat, and the second the rope slipped free, I hammered a kick to his chin that sent him flying back into the dirt.

A thrill of victory washed over me, watching him roll on the ground, cupping his mouth, from where blood trickled out.

“I bit my fucking tongue!” he rasped, and Uncle Felix snorted beside me.

I lurched for him again, but at a grip on my shoulder, I turned to see Moros standing beside me.

“That won’t be necessary. Come with me, Girl. I’d like to show you something.”

“I want to see my sister,” I countered.

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