Page 132 of A Storm in Every Heart
“Move!” The soldier barks, nudging me to walk. “I can’t carry you, so your only other choice is to be dragged, and we’re going up lots of stairs. Personally, I’d just walk.”
I glower at her, refusing to move. “Tell me where Kastian is!”
The soldier sighs in exasperation. She ignores my demand and, evidently giving up on the idea that I’m going to cooperate, uses every ounce of her Fae strength to wrench me up the path toward the castle. She yanks so hard that I hear my shoulder pop. A jolt shoots through me from clavicle to fingertip, and I bite the inside of my cheek to hold back tears that have nothing to do with the pain.
To distract myself from the throbbing in my arm and the desire to cry with frustration, I focus on analyzing the courtyard as I’m dragged up to the castle.
Magnus must have selected all the female soldiers to go find me, because every other guard we pass is male. I sneer at the dozens of men stationed around the front of the castle, all dressed in identical bright green jackets.
When Alix and Daemon took over Vernallis, they changed all the guards’ uniforms from red to blue. To many, it had seemed like an unnecessary move, but this is precisely why they did it. Magnus’s court looks exactly like the court of King Sebastian and Queen Marbella, and if I didn’t know better, I would think nothing had changed from a century ago. It makes the new regime feel like pretenders to the throne—which in this case, is exactly what Magnus is.
As we pass through the white stone archway into the castle courtyard, few of the guards swivel to look at us. Every single one has thick wads of cotton jammed into his ears.
“Looks like you’re all afraid of me,” I mutter as we cross the courtyard and enter the palace, passing by two more guards with cotton in their ears.
“The king doesn’t like to take any chances,” my guard answers, her tone reverent and her eyes turning wide and earnest.
I glare at her, disgusted. She seems like the type to worship power. “You must be young to think your king is a god. I remember Magnus when he was just a social-climbing advisor. He wasn’t impressive then, and he’s still nothing now.”
She spins abruptly to face me, and I see the anger snap in her eyes before I feel it in my jaw—her palm cracks across my face, hard enough to split my lip. The taste of blood explodes in my mouth.
My face burns, and for a second I’m too stunned to react. The guard smiles, looking satisfied, and starts to turn away.
My surprise clears and without thinking, I lunge, knocking into her hard enough that both of us go tumbling backward into the stone wall of the entrance hall.
She grunts as her head bounces off the white marble. My hands and wrists are still bound, but that doesn’t stop me from driving my elbow straight down onto her nose. There’s a sickening crunch, and she howls, vivid red blood spattering onto the bright white floor.
I jump to my feet, and for a glorious second I think I’ve won. I turn to run, but before I’ve gone a single step, a heavy weight slams into me from behind. Another guard materializes from nowhere to wrap his arms around my waist and pin me. He’s massive, all thick slabs of muscle, and he lifts me off the ground, my feet kicking uselessly in the air.
The female soldier is already back on her feet, her nose bleeding rivers down her face. She wipes it with the back of her hand and glares at me like she’s deciding which part of me tobreak next. She pulls off a glove, exposing her pale, sharp-nailed fingers, then slaps me again—this time on the other cheek.
“You bitch!” she snarls, voice muffled by her own blood. “I’d kill you if the king didn’t want you alive.”
“Lucky me,” I spit back, not even aware of the pain in my face.
She presses a hand to her bleeding nose, and her eyes dart to the other soldier. “Take her inside. I’ll follow you.”
“What?” the guard holding me nearly yells. “I can’t hear you.”
“Take her inside!” the soldier screams.
Either he can hear her now, or he just assumes what to do, because the guard doesn’t hesitate. He carries me across the entrance hall and through the arched doorway. The female soldier follows, pinching her nose and grumbling furiously under her breath.
My lips curve into a smile. At least no one can say I went quietly.
The interior of the castle is almost exactly as I remember it: high domed ceilings, archways carved with flowers and stars, sunlight streaming in through colored glass and splattering rainbows over the white marble floors.
The soldiers don’t take me to the throne room. Instead, we veer left, down a corridor lined with ancient tapestries. At the end of the hall is a winding marble staircase, which ascends at least eight levels before finally ending with a heavy wooden door.
The guard holding me stops on the top landing, and steps aside so the female guard can unlock the door. She looks slightly out of breath as she produces a ring of keys from her belt, thenshoves the door open to reveal a small round room. The large guard, hardly even winded from the climb, carries me inside.
I expected to be standing in a cell, but instead I find myself in a bedroom. There’s a large four-poster bed with a golden canopy and several shelves of books. A wardrobe stands between two large windows, and there’s even a small adjoining bathing room. In spite of everything, my eyes land on the bathtub, and a wave of relief washes over me.
“I can take it from here,” the female soldier tells the large guard.
“What?” he asks again.
“Of for the love of—” She looks furious as she shoves him out of the room and closes the door behind him, leaving us alone. I square my shoulders and back up, eyeing her warily.
