The Destroyer Book 2 (53 page)

I started rubbing the towel over my body and didn't realize that I was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration. I didn't know if it came from fear or from the uncomfortable position I had taken when I exposed myself to her. After half a minute I finished rubbing my armpits, stomach, legs, feet, face, and neck with the cloth. It smelled of onions and bread, confirming my belief that it once carried flour or vegetables.

"Enough." She sprang out of the bed with ease and walked a circle around me, eyeing my naked body like a cat about to kill a mouse it had just hamstrung.

"Very good human. See? This whole night will be easy and enjoyable for you if you do what I say. I promise no harm will come to you." She smiled again as she stopped her patrol in front of me. Her face leaned in close and our eyes met. There were golden flecks in the green orbs and they caught the light from the sun that streamed in through my window.

"Put on the rest of the clothes in the bag." She leaned back against the footboard of the bed and crossed her arms while I bent down again and removed the garments from the satchel.

The underclothes, long skirt, and thin wool vest fit as well as I expected. There was a small piece of black and white ribbon that I held up carefully as I looked at her with my eyebrows raised.

"For your hair. Tie it back." I complied quickly and pulled my dark brown hair into a thick ponytail. The ribbon made a large bow and I felt the ends drape down with the hair and tickle the nape of my neck.

"Now we go to the kitchen." She pointed to the door of my bedroom. "After you." I walked to the door and swung it open to my main suite.

The guards stood, unnaturally still, around the perimeter of the room. They stared forward in an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact with me or the Ancient. Except Runir. His face was red with rage and beads of sweat ran down his forehead. He must have heard everything. His hand grasped the hilt of his sword so tightly I feared the pommel would pop off from the handle.

"This little mouse will be back tomorrow morning. Pack your clothes and equipment, she will be departing shortly after dawn. If I see any of you outside this room, I will kill you and your precious Nadea." The golden-haired woman rested her left hand on my shoulder and her grip tightened. "Let's go girl." She pushed slightly and I moved toward the door. My brain seemed disconnected from my body, almost as if I watched her push me out from Runir's point of view.

I opened the door and walked into the hallway. My torturer closed the door behind us and released her hand from the possessive clutch it had on my shoulder.

"Move. We have an appointment to keep." I nodded and began to walk toward the kitchen. We continued down the long hallway for a minute before she spoke again.

"Walk naturally," she said in annoyance.

"My leg is injured. You saw the bandage? I normally walk with a cane." I tried to make the annoyance in my voice match hers and gambled that she wouldn't want to waste any time going back to the room to kill my guards.

"Tonight you don't walk with a cane, and you walk naturally. Understand?" Her eyes narrowed with anger and I nodded.

We took the stairs down to the first level of the castle. There were small kitchens on every odd floor, but the main one was below the West Wing and produced most of the food. I wondered how many soldiers, guards, and nobles where in the castle today. I would have had a better estimate at the banquet, but since it was close to dinner time I might make a guess from the stress of the cooks in the kitchen.

"Do not speak." I nodded as we approached the massive swinging double doors to the kitchen. The pleasant aroma of venison, quail, pheasant, boar, bread, and cheese wafted into my nose. The scents pulled me out of my daze and reminded me that this horrible woman was taking me to dinner with someone. I needed to figure out whom it was before I got there so I could prepare myself.

I already had a few guesses.

The kitchen was a frenzied symphony of smoke, crashing pots, yelling cooks, and demanding servants. My escort held me back with a careful arm as a group of men and women, arms impossibly full with covered platters of food, flowed past us like rushing river water. Once they passed, she spotted a gap in the flow of their movements and pulled me with her to the main table. There sat a balding fat man looking like a bloated spider in the center of a web. He sorted through stacks of papers, yelled orders, and randomly sampled food set before him. He seemed completely in control of the hectic storm that raged around him.

Until my captor cleared her throat to get his attention.

"Hello, Mistress!" The man fretted and stuttered like a boy asking a girl for a first kiss. What I had assumed was grease on his bald forehead turned into sweat. He wiped his hands nervously on his dirty white apron.

"Is it ready?" she barked.

"Not yet. My apologies. It will be ready in ten minutes." The man's face betrayed the terror he felt as he stood up to bow before her.

I understood his emotion. This woman wore fear, hatred, and power like a cloak around her.

"I suppose if I drove a stake through your bloated body and cooked you over a fire it would mean this whole fucking kitchen would cease to function. Yes?" she snarled.

"Y-y-y-yes!" Silence fell suddenly over the massive kitchen. People still continued to move about their business, but they had an ear and eye glued onto what I guessed would be a tragic end to their boss.

"But I believe you could run the kitchen with only one eye. Perhaps even missing a few fingers as well. Don't you agree?" She smiled and the nausea in my stomach spread through my body like a fever. The man gasped and took a step away, but the woman reached across the table in a blur and grabbed him by the throat. He must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds at least, but she yanked him over the table like he was a stuffed toy made for a child. Papers and half-eaten plates of food spilled everywhere.

"Which do you prefer to lose? The right or the left?" He waved his arms frantically through the air as she balanced his body on the edge of the table. She must have relaxed the grip on his throat because his answer came out in a sob of terror. "I didn't make that out human. I'll just decide for you." Her right hand moved to the man's face and his scream filled the room.

"It's ready!" A girl carrying a silver-covered tray about the size of her small body ran to the table and pushed the platter down with authority next to the Ancient. The woman paused in her makeshift surgery and turned to the girl.

"It is all there?"

"Yes." The servant must have been about fourteen or fifteen years of age. Her jaw was firmly closed but I saw no terror in her eyes, just anger.

"Excellent." The Ancient smiled and moved her fingers away from the fat man's face. She let go of the front of his throat. "I like you little human. What is your name?" The golden-haired demon leaned down as she faced the servant.

"Bethany is what I am called," the girl said.

"No one will get their food if the kitchen staff doesn't move." The Ancient glanced around the room at the fear-stricken servants. They jumped into action like a hundred mules being whipped at the same time.

The woman looked back over her shoulder at me and then pointed to the massive tray. I quickly grabbed the platter and heaved it onto my shoulders as I had seen servants do. The balance was a little tricky because of its weight, and I suddenly had a new respect for the servants I had seen carrying similar trays with apparent ease. This one must have weighed at least twenty pounds and was larger than some of the shields the guards used.

"Bring three bottles of wine and five pitchers of water to my room in ten minutes," she said to the girl. Bethany nodded and smiled slightly. I guessed she was happy to be trusted with this task, but probably also worried that she would soon be in the diabolical woman's presence again. "By that time, I'll have had a chance to examine the food you prepared. If it is incorrect, I'll throw you from the balcony." The girl's eyes opened wide and she let out a small gasp. The Ancient had already turned and walked toward the double doors that led out of the kitchen.

"It will be okay," I whispered to the girl quickly. The tears rolled down her face, but she hadn't cried out. I wondered if she was confident she had prepared the food correctly or if, like me, her mind would be seized with doubt and terror until the Ancient gave her verdict. She nodded and I wanted to pull her to my chest and cry with her.

"Move, bitch!" the Ancient woman shouted at me from the kitchen's exit. A few of the other servants looked at me with sympathy as I made a dash for the door, but I couldn't return their eye contact. I didn't think any of them would recognize me since I wasn't a common figure in this castle, but if anyone knew I walked around in servant's clothes it would complicate matters.

"Where are we going?" I asked after a few minutes of walking through the halls. We headed toward the East Wing, so I ruled out the possibility that Nanos had found out about me and was behind the mystery dinner.

"My room. Do not speak anymore. Your questions annoy me." She increased her pace and my injured leg struggled to keep up to her long strides.

We turned a corner to head toward the stairwell and there were four Ancients walking the opposite direction.

"Isslata," the man in front greeted my escort. She stopped her walk and spoke to the group in their flowery language. I kept my eyes on the ground and tried to find a position between my shoulder and arm that could comfortably balance the heavy tray. The five minutes of their conversation felt like an eternity, but eventually the woman parted with the other four and beckoned me to follow her.

"Isslata is your name?" I asked. I expected her to lash out at me again, but her face seemed lost in thought, whatever news the other Ancient had shared did not seem to excite the vicious woman. I let the question sit in the air for a few minutes and decided that I didn't want to push it.

We reached the base of the main East Wing staircase. From the intelligence we had gathered, I knew most of the noble guests were being kept in the North or West Wings. The Ancients occupied almost the entire East Wing and very few servants climbed their way up and down the stairs. The stress of dealing with our conquerors was plain on each person's face as they rushed to complete various tasks.

Isslata's boots made obnoxiously sharp noises as she ascended the steps. I moved to the side of the stone steps and grabbed the thick wood railing to help pull myself up, but my leg and the weight of the tray did not cooperate. I hated feeling feeble. My body was normally strong, but fatigue and fear were ravaging my muscles. At the end of the first flight of stairs the woman stopped and looked down at me with her arms crossed.

"You are weak, stupid, and slow human. The only pleasing quality you possess is your beauty. But even that will fade in a few years." She tapped her foot impatiently but only got a few clicks sounded before anger fueled my climb and pushed me up to meet her.

"Two more flights?" I asked, and she nodded before she started up the stairs. The third floor was where I saw this woman a few days ago while I walked with Runir. It was the floor where my father’s room had been. Where my room had been. Where Paug, Iarin, and Kaiyer had stayed.

"With whom am I having dinner?" My leg screamed in agony by the time I made it up two more flights of stairs, but I had grown used to the constant pain and throbbing it generated.

"You'll find out soon." She smiled at me wickedly. I knew then it was the general of this army. The silver-haired Ancient who was controlling this castle and manipulating Nanos. I couldn't guess why he wanted to meet with me over something as pleasant as dinner, but it seemed I would know shortly.

"Are we going to Kaiyer's old room?" I said as we turned in that direction.

"Do not say that name!" She was suddenly angry. Angrier. From what I had experienced so far, the bitch seemed to be irritated all the time.

"Kaiyer?" Before I saw her movement, I felt Isslata's fingers wrap around my throat and her nails dig into the side of my neck. It was obviously the wrong word to say.

"Yes, you human bitch. That name. Don't be fooled. He is powerful, but he is not the Destroyer. We've already done more than enough to bend your kind to our will." Her left hand casually reached up to steady the tray I almost dropped as my other hand grasped her wrist. She was so unbelievably powerful. I knew I was stronger than most normal humans because I was half-Ancient, but I couldn't even comprehend how someone her size might crush my windpipe so easily. I tried to gasp out a response, but it came out with a wheeze. She let me go and I stumbled onto the thick rug that decorated the landing of the stairwell. I dropped the tray as I fell back, but it slid from my shoulder into her deft hands.

"We own this world now. There is nothing the O'Baarni or you can do to change that fact." She glared down at me. My breath came out in painful wheezes that were fueled by adrenaline. At least she wasn't trying to rape me.

Yet.

"Get up. You don't want to keep him waiting do you?" Her anger seemed to have faded and was replaced by a beautiful smile. This woman was fucking crazy. Her emotions spun from one end of the spectrum to the other quicker than the words left her mouth. Were all Ancients like this?

“Fuck you and fuck your boss. I will not have dinner with that smooth-talking asshole; he'll need to interrogate me in the dungeon with Nanos like before." I shot to my feet and forced my body to relax. She was faster and stronger than me, but I'd tackle her when she set her tray down to fight me. I was sick of her and my fear.

"What?" She looked at me in confusion and disgust, as if I had two heads.

"Fuck you! You don't own me. I'll die before I'll dine with that asshole." I stepped forward and aimed a jab at her nose. It was a quick shuffle and I did a good job of not projecting the strike. The sucker punch would have caught most trained warriors off guard, especially if they had looked as confused as Isslata seemed to be.

I'm sure the blow would have made Greykin proud, but the woman's face seemed to blur out of the way at the last fraction of a second. My fist traveled past the point where I should have contacted her nose and I felt her hand glide over the top of my arm and then touch my chin. My body spun over backward and the air exploded from my lungs when my chest and stomach slammed into the carpeted floor. I gasped and spun from the ground to my feet. My chest was screaming for oxygen, my injured leg yelled a violent protest, and my lungs seized from the impact with the floor.