Page 70 of Bound By Wishes

I pushed the door open further, and the woman’s eyes widened in shock, her large brown eyes locking onto mine.She wasn’t dressed like a typical servant; her garments were sheer and elaborate. The only other reason I could imagine for a beautiful young woman to be waiting in the king’s bedchamber was if she was one of his concubines. I felt sorry for her for having to endure Razoul’s distasteful company.

“You’re dismissed,” I commanded, infusing my voice with as much haughty authority as I could muster, trying to sound like a fiancée who had just discovered another woman in her betrothed’s chambers.

The woman’s eyes widened with fear, and without a word, she turned and fled from the room, her silks trailing behind her like shadows fleeing the dawn. The door closed softly behind her, leaving me alone in the unsettling silence.

I stood frozen by the door, my gaze drifting over the perimeter. The room was dominated by a large canopied bed with rich silk drapes in deep crimson and gold, piled high with plush cushions and thick expensive-looking blankets. A large rug, woven with vibrant colors and extravagant designs, covered the marble floor. I stepped forward, my feet sinking into the lush carpet as I moved across the room.

Near the bed, there was a large intricately carved wooden chest lined with gold. I eased toward it, hoping what I was searching for was inside.

The hinges squeaked as I pried the chest open, and I grimaced at the noise. To my disappointment, the book wasn’t there. Instead, it was full of fabrics of silk and velvet and other trinkets that glittered in the dim light. With an irritated huff, I closed the lid and glanced around the room.

“I’m in his room,” I whispered to Ranen, “but I don’t see the book anywhere.”

There was a long pause, but no response. “Ranen?” I tried again, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

Great. Whatever magic was keeping Ranen out must also be preventing him from speaking to me. Panic welled in my chest, but I shoved it back down. I could do this.

My eyes swept over the furniture, the shelves lined with trinkets, and an imposing mural painted across the eastern wall.

Something about the mural caught my attention. It was a dramatic scene of a massive lion lunging at a man, who drove a spear through the beast’s broad chest. The detail was amazing, vivid and gory. But it wasn’t the art itself that intrigued me. Years of fieldwork with my father had taught me that decorative elements often hid something more.

I stepped closer, my fingers brushing against the cold surface of the wall. The lion’s eyes were unusual. They were two red rubies, giving the lion a demonic, rather than animalistic, appearance. My heart raced as a theory began to form in my mind. Hidden compartments and passageways were common in palaces and castles.

I examined the mural more closely, gently running my fingers along the edges of the gemstones. I pressed each stone one at a time, but nothing happened. Taking a deep breath, I pressed the rubies simultaneously.

To my relief, they sank into the wall with a faint click. The sound of shifting mechanisms filled the air, and a section of the wall swung open, revealing a hidden room beyond.

The faint scent of dust and parchment greeted me as I stepped inside. Treasures and important-lookingdocuments lined the shelves. But my gaze fixed on a single book, its leather cover cracked and weathered with age. Symbols embossed into the leather spelled outLedger of the Canaari Medjai. I traced the letters with my eyes, feeling a chill settle over me. Why did Razoul have this book? And how could he have gotten his hands on something that belonged to them? My brow furrowed, unease blooming in my chest.

My fingers trembled with anticipation as I reached for it.

I hesitated for only a moment before picking it up. Cradling it against my chest, I sprinted from the room, adrenaline coursing through me as I fled like the thief I was. Blood roared in my ears as I raced down the hallway, desperate to get out of these chambers before I was discovered.

An eerie figure emerged from the shadows as if it stepped from the darkness itself, cutting off my path. Its form was barely distinguishable from the surrounding gloom, like a phantom drawn from the depths of night.

I skidded to a halt, my slippers sliding on the polished floor and nearly sending me sprawling at the feet of the looming figure. I froze as I found myself dangerously close to the dark presence before me. Fear surged through my veins as the grotesque Nightshade solidified from the shadows, a chilling embodiment of death.

She was as nightmarish as I remembered, a mummified monstrosity that seemed to have stepped out of the darkest corners of my fears. Gone were the tattered remnants of her old dress, replaced by a flowing gown in blood-red silk. The deep neckline plunged over her chest, revealing a ghastly display of exposed bones and peeling skin.

Her hollow, glowing eyes locked onto mine, and despitethe urge to look away, I couldn’t tear my gaze from hers. Slowly, her attention shifted to the book clutched in my hands. A grisly smile stretched across her face, if it could even be called a smile, revealing a row of decayed, chipped teeth.

She reached out, her bony fingers barely grazing the cover of the book and making fleeting contact with my skin. A shiver ran down my spine, my skin tingling where she touched me.

“The Book of the Medjai,” she rasped, her voice dripping with malice. “We no longer have use for it,” she continued, circling me like a vulture, her bones creaking with each movement. “Not now that I have been freed.” Her decaying fingers slid over my shoulder, grasping my braid and pulling it forward until it hung over my chest. “We have all that we need.”

The Nightshade moved with a surprising speed for her mummified form. I flinched as her nails dug into my forearm, drawing blood. “I can’t wait to smear this sweet blood of yours all over King Thalorian’s mines,” she hissed. “And reclaim what is rightfully mine.”

Fear pumped so violently through me that my knees nearly buckled, but I managed to dart around her. I rushed toward the door leading out of the king’s chambers, her wicked cackling chasing after me.

I yanked the door open and glanced over my shoulder, checking to see if she was following. To my astonishment, she’d vanished as if she’d never been there. For a moment, I wondered if her presence had been an illusion, conjured by my fear. But the stinging pain of the cuts on my arm argued otherwise.

I crashed into Ranen, his muscles firm and unyielding like stone. He pulled me into his arms, his familiar scent wrapping around me like a comforting balm, soothing the chaos that swirled inside me. My arms encircled his waist as I clung to him.

"What happened, sayyida?" he urged, pulling me closer until my head rested against his chest.

I stayed there for a moment, breathing deeply, letting the steady rhythm of his heart calm the turmoil left by the horrible encounter with the Nightshade.

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