Page 64 of The Traitor Queen (The Bridge Kingdom 2)

“We’re too far away for anyone to hear.” Aren dropped on one knee next to the dying man. “But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Who are you?” Timin’s words were strained. “What sort of demon are you?”

“The sort who’s had his fill of backstabbing pricks,” Aren replied before sliding his blade across the man’s throat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get my wife back.”

35

Lara

Lean forward.

Lean backward.

Lean left.

Lean right.

Lara repeated the chant in her head, forcing her body to comply even though exhaustion and exposure were taking their toll. Her skin burned hot in the places the sun had scorched it, but the rest of her was freezing, her body wracked with shivers. She was thirsty, her stomach twisted with cramps, and her head throbbed. If she didn’t escape tonight, the only escape would be death.

Lean forward.

Lean backward.

The pillory was set into the ground, but not deeply enough. The big man’s weight had loosened it so that with hours of work on her part, it should’ve been easy to lift free. Except she’d discovered that she was too weak to do so. Her only option was to keep working to destabilize the damned thing, then try to tip it over, hopefully not breaking her neck in the process.

The market was busy with people going about the business of buying and selling goods, a large caravan having arrived from Maridrina shortly after sunset. Interest in her had fortunately diminished, though men and women both took the time to spit or throw sand at her as they passed. Lara didn’t much care what they tossed at her as long as none of them noticed what she was up to.

The Maridrinian tavern was bustling, dozens of men sitting outside at the little tables, drinking and laughing, some with their heads bent close as they discussed business. It was loud, made louder still by a pair of musicians playing drums. A dancer who likely moonlighted as a prostitute swayed seductively on top of a platform that had been set up for her. For that reason, it took several moments for the crowd to notice her large captor slumping to the ground in front of the building, foam pouring from his mouth.

There were shouts of alarm, then two more men slumped off the sides of their chairs, exhibiting the same symptoms.

“Poison! They’ve been poisoned,” someone shrieked, and the whole market turned into chaos, the patrons of the tavern shoving away glasses and bottles, eyes wide with horror.

This was her chance.

Getting her legs underneath her, Lara pushed, feet scrabbling in the sand. Her back screamed in agony, but slowly, the pillory toppled forward, pulling her with it. She tried to slow the fall of the frame, but it was wasted effort. Her body flipped upright, her ass in the air as the top of her head hit the sand hard enough that she saw stars. The opening encircling her neck slammed down against her chin, pressing hard against her throat. But she’d heard the latch flip open.

Digging the tips of her toes into the ground, she tried to push the top piece of the pillory loose to free herself. But it was wedged in the sand.

And she couldn’t breathe.

Desperation filling her, she tried to pull the whole mess of wood backward and out of the sand, but she couldn’t get the leverage.

If she didn’t get out soon, she was going to pass out. And if no one noticed her, she’d be dead, strangled and crushed by her own faulty plan.

Catching a toe in one of the holes in the ground, Lara pulled, the bones in her wrists grinding against the wood, muscles trembling.

The frame shifted, and she felt the top piece loosen, freeing her wrists and neck.

She’d done it!

“That wasn’t your most graceful maneuver,” a familiar voice hissed, then hands were grasping her arms, pulling her upright. “You’re lucky you didn’t break your damned neck.”

Aren.

“Let’s go while they’re still distracted.”

He dragged her between two stalls, heading toward the lake. Moments later, she heard shouts of alarm as her captors realized she’d escaped.

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