Page 60 of The Captive's Curse
Holding on to that optimism became more difficult as we began the climb up the final steep hill toward the castle.
Even though it meant tipping my head onto Hans’s shoulder, something I’d resisted all the way no matter how much it would’ve relieved my aching neck, I leaned back as far as I could to peer up the mountain as we rounded the bend of the first switchback.
Nothing. Not so much as a hint of gray stone glimmering through the trees that lined the path. It was as if the castle simply didn’t exist. What in the name of all the gods?
“There’s nothing up there,” Hans said accusingly, having clearly looked up himself. “If you’re leading me into an ambush, Cyril’s the first to die. You have my word.”
“How could I be ambushing you when I haven’t been out of your sight?” Enzo asked, perfectly reasonably. Of course, if anyone could, it would be him. “It’s a steep hill.”
His dismissive tone would’ve made Hans look like a moron if he asked any more questions, and Hans fell silent, clearly realizing it too.
It took another quarter of an hour for us to reach the top, with only one brief pause as Hans had several of his men take point, moving us more toward the middle of the column.
Fucking coward.
Although I couldn’t really talk. The path up the hill wasn’t quite as dreadful as I’d thought it would be; it was wider than it looked from above. But being at the mercy of Hans’s hold on me made it seem much narrower. I’d been upset before at the thought of traversing this path in the shelter of Enzo’s embrace—and I’d been so incredibly stupid. I’d have felt safer clinging to him with his arms bound than I did with Hans’s arms to either side of me and his grip on my waist.
“It’s directly up ahead,” Enzo said grimly as we reached the top.
We came out onto the flat area before the gates—and at last, the gates werethere, hanging wide open, with the walls attached. When had it all become visible? Had I missed the castle’s appearance with my eyes closed against my vertigo? Black clouds had begun streaming in from the north and the sky had darkened noticeably as we rode, but the light hadn’t faded that much.
Or had it been at the moment Enzo spoke?
By the low murmur of the men around me, I wasn’t the only one who’d found the whole experience extremely odd.
“As promised,” Enzo said. “My castle.”
“Not yours,” Hans snarled, and spurred forward. “Put a sword to his throat and make sure it’s clear his life’s forfeit if anyone does anything stupid,” he said to Enzo’s guard. The man nodded and drew his sword, and we all moved forward through the gate.
The men in the vanguard slowed and then stopped, and then Enzo called out, “They’ve surrendered! They’re unarmed!”
Hans sidled his horse around the guard in front of us and rode forward a few more yards, and then I saw them: half a score of Enzo’s men, led by Finn and the very large fellow whose name I’d never managed to learn. There was no sign of Leander. And as I craned my neck and whipped my head around, taking in as much as I could, I realized there was no one else. None of the stable boys, no blacksmith, no servants. Clearly there had been a scout after all, and he’d done his work well. The most vulnerable had all been whisked away somewhere, probably through the older part of the castle. There had to be another entrance there, one that hadn’t been mentioned in any of the stories about this place. This group must have remained to make it appear as if Hans had captured them all.
Finn and the men were completely unarmed, not even wearing their leather jerkins, and they held their hands out at their sides, clearly not wishing to risk any misunderstanding of their intent.
Hans stirred behind me.
“We cast ourselves on the queen’s mercy, long may she reign, and request a trial at the assizes,” Finn said—quickly, as if he realized his chance to say his lines might be lost if he allowed another player on the stage to improvise.
I blew out a shuddering breath of relief. Hans couldn’t slaughter them now; his men might be loyal to him, but they’d still talk. Men always talked. And when—not if—the queen heardthat her appointed representative had murdered men who’d claimed her justice, Hans would be lucky to lose his position and more likely to lose his head.
“Granted,” Hans said after a moment, in a tone that suggested they’d wish they were dead when he was done with them. He turned to his officer beside us. “Come here, I want a private word,” he said quietly, and then added more loudly, “Chain him,” with a gesture at Enzo, “like the dog he is, and bind the rest and search them!”
Hans unceremoniously seized me under the arms and practically shoved me off his horse, telling one of his men to keep hold of me before he dismounted himself and strode away with his officer toward the stables.
As two of Hans’s men began to get Enzo down, not an easy maneuver given the way he’d been bound, he twisted around enough that our eyes met. Only for an instant, but I felt the impact of his gleaming dark gaze even across the dim, chaotic courtyard, and heat flared in my belly, spreading through all my limbs as if I’d stepped close to a fire. It was more than arousal, more than need, more than the response of my magic to his presence, and I tilted forward, yearning, desperate for his touch—
And then he was pulled down into a crowd of Hans’s men. I tried to follow where they took him, but I only caught one last glimpse of his black hair as he was hustled into the armory—leaving me chilled and bereft and alone, wrapping my arms around myself against the cold wind sweeping through the courtyard.
I watched in despair as Finn and the others were made to kneel, their hands bound roughly behind them, the guards cuffing them and kicking them and laughing as they did. My blood burned with the desire to…well, to burn them all.
The courtyard began to clear out a bit as Hans’s soldiers dispersed in small groups, going up to man the walls or searching the castle. It gave me a clear view of Hans emerging from the stables, saying something to his officer. The officer nodded and started rapping out orders, his men obeying by getting Finn and the others up and moving into the stables.
The stables? There were much better places to hold prisoners, and what did they propose to do with their horses? Except that they were leading them all over toward the kitchens, hobbling them in the open. Out here? When it’d surely be raining within hours? They had to be out of their minds.
I looked back at Hans. He’d waved over another man, and this time he gestured…up? And the fellow jogged off, into the armory. Where Enzo had been taken.
The fuck. A cold, creeping dread wriggled its way up and down my spine and lodged in the base of my skull.
