Page 87 of The Throne Seeker
“Maybe.” His eyes shone with determination. “I’ll help the castle guard… but I’ll take you back to your room—” She openedher mouth to protest, but he interrupted. “No. Whoever did this could still be in the castle, and I can’t find them if I’m too busy worrying about you. I’ll take you back to your room, and you’ll stay there until I come for you. Don’t let anyone enter.” He handed her a sword. “Keep this with you.”
She wanted to argue, but she bit her tongue. She recognized that headstrong look all too well. She’d have to do it his way if she wanted a chance to find the seer. Her mother would only be his ally in his cause. Arguing would be a waste of time.
Reluctantly, Rose accepted the sword. “Fine,” she agreed, taking the hilt into her hands.
Rose paced in her room like a caged animal, surprised her steps hadn’t worn a path into the rug. She couldn’t shake the image of the seer’s room. Guilt gnawed at her from within. She’d heard nothing but silence since the alarm had been sounded more than an hour ago, if the dying flames in the fireplace were to be trusted.
She bit her lip as she spun on her heel to pace back the other way. She still didn’t understand how in Vallor someone managed to enter without the guard noticing. Was Lord Martin’s anger so great that he’d go as far as to kill her?
A splitting scream pierced the silence.
She whipped to face the door.
It had come from the hall. She was sure of it. She’d recognize that scream anywhere.
Her mother.
Fear caged her heart as another scream came, calling out her name this time.
She didn’t think as she sprang into action, snatching the sword Zareb had given her. She burst out the door, sprinting towards her mother’s room, going as fast as her feet would permit.
Her mother couldn’t be hurt. She wouldn’t allow it. She pushed her legs faster.
As Rose rounded the corner, someone seized her. Before she could even make a sound, a hand pressed a white cloth over her mouth and nose.
“Shhh,” a male voice whispered.
The pungent cloth stung her nose, the scent from an herb she knew all too well—the leaf of the Choloar plant. She struggled to escape the stranger’s hold, but it was too late. She’d already inhaled too much of the toxic scent.
Her body became numb, her arms falling limply to her side. Before her legs gave out, the large figure caught her, lifting her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather.
All consciousness slipped away as her world faded to black…
CHAPTER 38
Rose woke up to a gentle breeze carrying a hint of mist, making her nose crinkle at the sudden spray. She attempted to open her eyes, but the blinding light beating down forced her to squeeze them shut again while the sound of crashing waves thundered in her ears.
She shifted her weight to her arms, sitting up slowly. As she did, she became acutely aware of two alarming realities. First, metal chains coiled around her wrists, scraping against the coarse, rocky surface beneath her. Second, and more horrifying, was the fact that she was perched precariously on a slim ledge against a steep cliff face.
Instincts took over as she scrambled backward, retreating as far back as the narrow edge would allow. She pressed her back against the hot rock wall behind her, the heat sinking into her dress. The ledge was so narrow that she could barely sit without her legs dangling off.
Her muscles locked up as she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. This had to be some horrible dream. Some nightmare.
When she dared to peek out of her eyes, she was still on the cliff.
After a prolonged moment of acceptance, she summoned the courage to look beyond the narrow ledge, expecting to see the ground miles down. But it was far worse. She saw a sea of blue below, with only a thin crest-shaped bar of sand, which would soon be gone with the high tide.
She knew exactly where she was.
Crimson Cove.
She’d come here to the beach often with Tristan and his siblings. It was beautiful in the mornings, but toward midday, they had always quickly cleared out, cautioned of its strong, unforgiving currents. Dozens of ships had met their end in this cove, wrecked in the early years of Cathan’s founding and many since. So many, in fact, they claimed the waters had been turned crimson from the saturation of blood that’d poured into its seas from the sailors it’d consumed.
Rose combed through her memory, remembering the hooded figure who had grabbed her. After that, nothing. She couldn’t recall a face or even a voice. Her dread escalated as she remembered her mother’s scream. Had that been real? Or had that just been a way to coax her out into the open? She reassured herself that her mother wasn’t defenseless—she kept a sword hidden in her room, just as Rose had. She could fight them off. She was strong.
When she looked down, Rose caught a glimpse of a shiny object hanging around her neck. Her fingers traced the large sun medallion resting on her collarbone.
Finally, clarity found her.
