Page 57 of Over the Emerald Valley
Behind him, Temaj’s stilted breath ruffled Solon’s hair. Tension rose as footsteps thudded closer.
Would the guard betray them?
Solon was ready for the possibility, but no. The footsteps came and went. When all was quiet, he poked his head out and found the corridor empty.
“Now,” he whispered.
They doubled back, past the abandoned game and into the viceroy’s restricted area. This time, they knew the way, and travel through the underground labyrinth would be faster.
The plan was simple—incapacitate any guards manning the entrance, infiltrate Abasi’s personal quarters, find evidence of his crimes, and get out before conflict could arise above. This scenario would avoid a full-scale battle along with the death and injury such a brawl would entail.
It was a good plan.
Too bad everything went to shit before they’d had a chance to begin.
Khu stood in their way, flanked by six guards, with a tearful Qeb cowering behind him.
Temaj stormed forward, baring his teeth. “You dare betray your own? And to Khu, of all people?”
Solon grabbed him by the belt and yanked him to safety. The guards looked more than ready to slaughter Temaj for their master.
“I wished only to flee. I thought we’d escape together,” said Qeb in a small voice before Khu shushed him.
“Qeb may not be loyal to his master, but I am. This ends now, General.” Khu held up his right hand, ready to signal the guards. “Stand down.”
If it was a fight Khu wanted, he would get it. But not here. Not when Khu had the advantage.
His men were prepared for this scenario, though it wasn’t ideal. Battle first, evidence later.
“Retreat,” Solon ordered his group. Hopefully, Temaj could run as fast as he could talk. They’d rejoin the others and take down the palace the hard way.
Solon brought up the rear as Neku and Jontil sprinted out of the restricted area, with Temaj right behind them.
Straight into Abasi, who lay in wait like an angry jackal cornering its prey.
The viceroy stared at their group with his black, piercing eyes like they disgusted him. And maybe they did. Dressed in the finery of the richest of men, white linen without a speck of dirt, an abundance of jewels cluttering his neck and wrists, a fancy wig of thick, silken black hair done in plaits, he looked untouchable.
But he wasn’t. Because Abasi stood alone.
Solon didn’t slow down a fraction. He plowed past the others. What was that saying? Cut off the head of the snake, and the body dies with it? What was one man as coddled and pampered as Abasi against an army general? No one. Solon would take him hostage.
But as he raised his arm and lunged to strike, Abasi darted forth, faster than the eye could see, and caught him by the throat. He whipped Solon around, thrust him against the wall, and held him there with the strength of a herd of elephants.
Solon struggled for breath. He grabbed Abasi’s forearm with both hands and yanked with all his might, but it was as if the man were made of stone. Was he a demon after all? His grip was unnaturally solid.
Neku and Jontil swung into action, racing to his aid, but Abasi held up his free hand. “Stop, or I’ll crush his throat.”
Abasi could do it too. Solon was certain of it. He could barely breathe as it was. Only the tips of his toes touched the ground.
“Let him go, master, please.” Temaj flung himself at Abasi’s feet, kneeling before him. Solon’s stomach churned. “He’s only following orders.”
“And you, whore?” Abasi’s cold black glare pinned Temaj to the ground just as effectively as his hand pinned Solon to the wall. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Temaj trembled. “Whatever you command of me, sir. Anything, just let him breathe.”
“Guards,” Abasi ordered, “take the slave below ground. Leave him tied.”
Solon couldn’t let that happen, couldn’t let Temaj out of his sight and away from his protection. With Abasi still distracted, he locked eyes with Neku, who gave the subtlest of nods.
