Page 15 of Master of Iron (Bladesmith 2)

“I don’t know. I can’t move.”

“Maybe if I try…” He tries scooting over, but that only causes our bodies to rub, his upper thigh sliding against the back of my ass.

His breaths come out faster. “Ziva, I don’t like this.”

I’m momentarily pulled out of my fascination over the way his body feels against mine. He doesn’t like this? But I thought— Oh, wait.

“Small spaces,” I whisper.

“I hate them.” He starts shifting, his arms tapping against our enclosure. He’s trying not to panic, but I can tell his movements are becoming more frantic.

And then the space becomes even smaller as a third body joins us.

Petrik’s stepped through the portal. I want to tell him to go back, but Kellyn’s arm is shoved between my shoulder blades.

A light burst of air. Falling forward. And then the weight of two bodies crashing atop of me.

I feel as though my lungs are forced from my body. I cannot breathe, even after the weight is removed.

“Ziva!”

I start to panic because I still can’t breathe and I’m in a strange place in the dark.

And then the air finally comes back. I take the two hands offered to me, and the boys haul me up.

“A damned wardrobe,” Kellyn says.

“Of course, a wardrobe,” Petrik says. “These portraits have to be hidden. Otherwise, anyone could stumble upon them.”

When my eyes adjust, I take in the new space, illuminated by silver light from the single window. We appear to be in some sort of storage space. I can spot vanities and mirrors and chairs.Rolled-up rugs, wardrobes like the one we just came through, bed frames.

I cough, try to muffle the sound against my elbow.

Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust.

“Now what?” Kellyn asks.

“Let’s find our way out of the room. I need to orient myself,” Petrik says.

We fiddle along blindly against the walls. Someone knocks over a lamp, candles breaking and rolling across the floor. Kellyn hits his head on something. I nearly trip over a frame that’s flat against the floor. Then my foot comes down on the glass, shattering it when I try to catch myself.

I pray that we’re far enough away from those living in the palace not to be heard.

“A door!” Kellyn calls. I weave through the maze of furniture until I’m at his side.

He tries the latch. “Locked.”

Of course.

Kellyn steps back from the door a few feet and then throws his weight against it.

I slap his back. “What are you doing? Someone is going to hear that!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Yes.”

Petrik reaches us as I start picking at the hinges on the door, pulling the pins out.

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