Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) (17 page)

“I feel… like I just fell from a tree,” she said, massaging her temples. A smile formed on her lips.

“You really ought to take more care of yourself, Lessa. I know you like climbing, but I always knew something like this would happen. Luckily for you, I think the snow broke some of your fall. I managed to heal your broken bones, but I had to use the last of the prillyberry brew. Never do that again, you hear?”

She glowered at him, but Talis ignored her noncompliance.

“Was it that bad?” she asked, pouting her lips.

Talis nodded. “But I found you just in time. The remedies worked like magic.”

Her eyes widened as the banned word rolled with ease off of Talis’ tongue, but she let it slip by. “I’d say!” she said, stretching her arms and legs. “You’re wonderfully gifted, Master. Sometimes, I’m not sure how you do it. I could never heal such extensive injuries so fast.” She shook her head at the idea.

Talis gave her a thoughtful look. “I’m sure one day you will,” he said, his voice soft. “Otherwise, I’m not as good a teacher as I thought!” He left the room, and she heard a clatter in the kitchen.

Her muscles felt sore as she pushed herself to a seated position and reached for a hair-tie to pull up her sweat-drenched tresses. On the back of her neck a stinging sensation burned on a rough patch of skin. Her fingers grazed over it, wincing at the unpleasant tingle once more. She grabbed a small mirror at her bedside, shifting it so it reflected in the glass window by her bed, but the image was unclear. 

She groaned and planted her feet on the ground, working her weak legs towards another mirror at her desktop. She angled the small one in her hand so the back of her neck reflected in the glass. Lessa gasped at the sight of her skin and felt the mirror slip from her hand.

The hand-mirror fell to the floor, shattering to pieces. Shards of glass scattered in a threatening maze about her feet, but she didn’t seem to notice. Her thoughts glued to the silvery, spiraled scar in the center of her neck. She bent down and scooped up a large piece of the broken glass, angling it so she could once again see the mutation on her skin. The luminescent mark stood out like a coiled, silver serpent on her neck. In a way, she found it stunning in contrast to her pallor, but it also made her feel anxious. This mark was definitely new… and a strange one at that.

Just then, Talis blundered back through her door with a tray of steaming tea and what looked like one of his famous restorative concoctions. “What are you doing out of bed?” he snapped, narrowing his eyes at the mess.

Lessa yanked her hair-tie out so her blonde locks cascaded over her shoulders, hiding her new scar from view. Does he know? She guessed not. “I just wanted to stretch my legs,” she said, tiptoeing around the glass and crawling back into bed.

“Well, you must feel very weak after such a long time unconscious. Rest a bit and drink these,” he said, setting the tray at the foot of her bed. “Tomorrow we’ll get your body working properly again.”

Lessa reached for the cup of tea. The porcelain cup felt warm on her palms, and the tea smelled of sweet jasmine, perfect to quench her thirst. “Thank you,” she said, sipping the drink.

“We’ve already lost two weeks of preparation, Lessa. We can waste no more time getting you up to speed. You’ll have to train doubly hard,” he said with a wary expression, taking her tea and replacing her hand with another cup. Lessa frowned at the apprehension in his eyes and the smell of the new brew in her hands.

“What day is it?” she asked with a yawn. Her eyelids drooped as she drank the tasteless concoction. Red syrup dripped down her chin, staining the white pillow behind her head.
I’ll have to clean that.
Her thoughts blurred, and her body numbed as a strange sensation spread throughout her limbs. 

“It’s Sunday,” said Talis, turning down the lights. He left the room.

Sunday… Sunday?
She sensed the importance of the word, but her thought disappeared into a vast, clouded pool of memories. She watched the thought drift away as her mind melted into an enrapturing dream of jeweled labyrinths and brilliant waterfalls. Then, her dream shattered into something darker. Lessa fell through a snow-clattered sky, a pair of orange eyes glowering after her.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The firebugs blazed in a spiraling gust around Arianna as she raced through the tunnels under the Jar. Their golden light blended in with the red ripples of her robes billowing behind her, giving her the appearance of a raging fire.

She slammed her body against the rock of the entrance to her district. Falling through, she landed on her hands and knees with a crash. Replacing the stone in its rightful stance, she jogged towards the safety of the Dueling Arena, sweat dripping down her forehead and cheeks. Tilting her face upwards towards the night sky, she rested her hands on her hips.

I feel more trapped with a wide view of this sky than I do when I’m hiding below the mountains.
She laughed at the thought and guessed the time to be around midnight. Deep, indigo shadows blanketed the sky, and the moon looked a yawning orange peeking out of waspy, gray clouds, but only just. Distant, starry globes sprinkled the night where the clouds parted.

Arianna walked down the road, her head still glued to the sky as the full moon rose into glorious view, sending shudders over her skin.
Those horrible eyes.

“Hey! You there!” a husky voice called from somewhere up ahead. Arianna’s head snapped back into place and horror replaced anything she was feeling before.

With all the adrenaline pumping her emotions, she had forgotten to lay low. Only now, as her senses kicked in, did she see the lanterns lining the streets and washing her in a hazy spotlight. She stood out in full view against the black night, the moon doing little to shelter her as she walked in plain sight.

Just feet in front of her stood a tall man in glossy, black robes with the golden snake of the King’s crest emblazoned at the front. Arianna froze, unable to blink as she studied him. His face looked jagged, and his eyes matched the black of his uniform. His arms ripped with muscles, overshadowing his rather round belly, and thick hands clenched to the silvered handle of a sword.

With quick reflexes, she swiveled on her foot, attempting to escape the other direction.

As soon as she turned, she collided with another regulator, falling backwards to the ground. Stunned, she rolled on all fours, peering up from muddied hands and knees. Her hood fell to her back in the commotion, and her hair spilled all around her face. Raising her head, her eyes locked with dark green ones so close she could see the white around the jade pupils.

A regulator with stringy, blonde hair crouched down in front of Arianna, his robes fluttering behind him like a cape in the wind.

The name
Das
was embroidered on his chest in the same gold thread as the snake. Before she could gather her thoughts, the other man yanked her to her knees by her tresses. Once again, her face looked upon the starry sky as the man forced her head backwards.

“Das, who do we have here?” asked the regulator at her back.

“Not sure,” he replied. “Slave, what’s your number?” he asked, his lips curling over his teeth.

Standing from his crouched position, he moved again in her view. He hovered over her face, locking his green eyes back to brown. Arianna said nothing. If she revealed herself, they would know she and Solomon lied about her death. She couldn’t risk endangering her master or Cyn, so she pursed her lips in defiance.

The regulator at her back tugged harder on her curls. She winced. “I said, what is your number?” Das hissed.

He slid his long sword from its hilt, and Arianna’s eyes clamped shut, comprehending her fate.
Home Sweet Home
… Her skin recoiled at the familiar taste of steel.

She ran through her options as Das surrendered the tip of his weapon to caress her exposed neck. “Would you prefer to identify yourself now?” he asked in a threatening tenor, smiling.

To tell or not to tell mulled over in her mind. In either situation she could only see herself as dead or dead.

“Relax, Das,” said the other. “Kill her here if you must, but the general may want to make a show out of it. Though, if you wish to get rid of her now, give me warning this time. I don’t want blood splattering my cloak again.” His voice was much too casual.

Das didn’t relax his stance in the least bit. “Of course, Akias.” He paused, tapping a finger to his chiseled chin. “How shall we execute you, hmm? The Pit maybe?”

Arianna’s voice exploded with a scream of sheer fear as she struggled against his grip, trying to rack her brains for an escape route. What could she do? Then, it came to her.
My dagger!

She had almost forgotten its presence at her side due to its long absence. Keeping her eyes trained on Das, she felt under her robes for the metal on her thigh. Grasping the hilt, she kept it hidden. If she made any wrong move, Das would make a hole in her throat, for sure.

“Search her robes,” said Das to Akias. “I’d like to know why she’s out past curfew before her blood gets on my sword,” he said, flashing yellow teeth down at Arianna. He flicked his thin blade at her shoulder, carefully pushing aside her curls with the tip of the steel to reveal the number
twenty-two
stitched to her robes.

Akias yanked her hair once more, peering over her shoulder to see the number as well. She almost fell backwards into him from the force of his pull. Flailing her arms to retain balance, she lost grip on her dagger.

“Twenty-two,” said Akias. “Why are you out here, hmm?” His hands fingered within her robes, searching for a clue as to her previous whereabouts. Her skin prickled as she felt the cool leather of his gloves snaking all around.

Above her, Das wore a huge grin. He pressed his steel closer to her skin, daring her to move. She felt a warm trickle of blood run down her neck as it pierced the surface.

“How is she?” asked Das. He licked his cracked lips at Arianna.

She narrowed her eyes and made no retort, trying to stay brave as he toyed with her emotions.

“Maybe we’ll save you for a snack,” said Das. His eyes followed the unwelcome hand beneath her cloaks.

“I think you might have a little more bite than you can chew here,
Das
,” said Arianna, his name sour on her tongue as her smart mouth caught up with her again.

“Feisty, aren’t we?” Das twisted the sword in his hand, making her skin squeal at the sharp point. “I like a little bite with my food,” he said with a gleam in his hungry eyes.

“Here we are!” said Akias. His fingers clasped the crinkled parchment of Lessa’s letter. Arianna was all too relieved that she hadn’t hid the letter too well for the sake of her dagger… and her temper.

“Now, what do we have here?” asked Das. Akias handed the crumpled letter over for him to examine.

“Have at it,” said Akias, bored by the events. He stood, throwing Arianna to her back on the hard ground.

Das stepped over her to keep his sword at the nape of her neck as she lay still in the muddied snow. He began to read the letter but stumbled over the initial script. “Pity, I still don’t know your name,” he said, straining to decipher the opening line due to the tear in the parchment. He dug his sword deeper into her skin as he continued reading, reciting every word thereon.

Das’ voice trailed as he read and reread the signature
Lessa Thur—Slave girl of Healer’s District
. He stood in disbelief.

The letter floated to the floor, and Arianna broke out in sweat as she waited for him to put the pieces together. She weeded her fingers down her thigh, unsheathing her dagger under her robes.

“Akias… she’s been to the Healer’s District!” he said. His expression befuddled.

Akias walked over to Das, fetching the fallen letter to read for himself, handing Das the slave-roster in exchange.

“How in the Hell?” said Akias.

They both stared down at her, waiting for answers. Arianna glared back and said nothing.

“No matter, General Ivo will see enjoyment torturing the answers out of you,” said Das. “Though, I must say this is a first.” He shoved Arianna’s legs with his feet, and her face grew red. She moved to her elbows, challenging the tip of his sword. 

Das puckered his lips and moved his attention to the roster in hand. His eyes started scrolling the names, reading them out loud.

Arianna started to panic as he read aloud her very own description, “Ah, here we are. Slave #22: Arianna Belvedor. Trainer: (private) Master Solomon Bell. Status: DECEASED.”

With one look at her face as she heard her name roll off Das’ lips, they were clued in. Akias lunged forward, writhing mad as she tried to slide backwards out of his path.

“I knew I recognized you, Arianna Belvedor! But you tell me how? You’re Bell’s ward… I saw you fall in battle, yet you lie here unscathed and defiant. He betrayed us, Das. Inform the general, immediately!” he said.

Akias stood an inch from her face, shaking her like a ragdoll as his saliva splattered down.
It’s now or never.
Arianna cleared her mind as she pulled the dagger from her side, positioning it just right. She would bury the weapon in his ribs before either of them could comprehend the assault. She would fight back.