Page 22 of The Umbra King

He strolled down the marble walkway and exited through a door at the back of the dais without looking back. The crowd dispersed quickly, presumably returning to work, and Rory fought to hide her smile.

The king unknowingly gave her the opportunity of a lifetime. She would scour the palace until she found her sister’s soul, and then she would send the king to wait for her in hell.

A rough hand grabbed her by the arm and dragged her across the large room. She turned to shoot her best glare at whomever was handling her, but her throat dried at the powerful mystic pulling her along.

“Samyaza,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

She thought he was a myth, a bedtime story told to children to keep them in line. He was said to be the commander of the Vincula legion, brutal beyond comprehension, and sent directly from the aether by theSeraphimthemselves. The books never said what type of mystic he was, and for the first time since arriving, fear gripped her like a vise.

Her eyes tracked over him from top to bottom. His light hair hung past his shoulders, obstructing her view of his face, and the white wings protruding from his back were large, even when tucked tightly against his back.

He wore armor she’d seen in supermystic movies and old story books. Taller than the king, he was imposing, and when he finally turned his face to hers, she bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

His features were severe, and the way his eyes burned into hers, she wondered if he possessed the ability to create fire.

“Yes,” he said in the deepest voice she had ever heard. “I prefer Sam.”

Did he expect her to call him by such a casual name? She would be too busy shitting her pants in his presence to call him anything at all.

She nodded in acknowledgement and turned her eyes forward. If she stared at him too long, would she die? Probably.

“Tell me why you called the king Bane,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

Her head snapped back to him. “That is what he said it was, but I know now it was a lie.”

The commander’s eyes narrowed. “Are you drunk?”

Jackass.“Of course not. That is what he told my sister his name was, but as I said, it was a lie.”

He removed his hand from her arm but kept walking. There was no way she would stop until he told her to, and he knew it. “Is your sister here, too?”

“She had one of the brightest souls I have ever seen,” Rory said, clearing the emotion from her throat. “She would no sooner be here than the Scales of Justice herself.”

Sam was silent as they walked, and she assumed their conversation was over, but then he said, “Then it was not Caius who spoke with her. He has been locked in Vincula for almost five-hundred years. There are only a few months left in his contract.”

The king had a contract?Her mind cataloged the information for later. She’d heard he was locked in Vincula indefinitely for killing his own sister. A myth.

“I saw him with my own eyes,” she insisted. “I’m not blind.”

His cold features remained impassive. “Think what you wish.” Something nagged at her to believe him, but she knew what she saw. Itwasweird the king wasn’t in color all those years ago.

“Why did he say I have the longest sentence in history if his is just as long?”They were all jackasses.

Ignoring her, Sam led them down several flights of stairs before arriving in a dank hallway lined with doors. The air was thick with moisture, and the torches provided just enough light to avoid running into the walls. She would kill for a flashlight.

The behemoth stopped in front of a door labeled 21030 and swung it open. He gently pushed her inside and closed the door behind them. As she looked around, she saw they stood in a small, tidy room with a lantern, a bed, a nightstand, and a dresser. There was a door on the left wall she guessed was a bathroom.

“Welcome home,” he said, ushering her across the room, which was a total of five steps.

She turned to him. “No dungeon?”

His hard eyes stared at her, void of emotion. “There is no need for a dungeon. If anyone steps out of line, they are put to death.”

Rory recoiled. “I understand that for me, but foreveryone?” She was horrified.

Again, Sam’s face remained stone-like. “You forget, everyone here has committed some type of serious crime. They are not here for petty theft.” He pushed open the door to the left and gestured inside. “Washroom.”

The commander sounded a million years old when he spoke. Shepaused. Maybe he was. Inside the door was a small room with a shower, sink, and toilet.Thank the Seraphim.

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