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Chapter 49: DON’T WORRY, WE’RE PROFESSIONALS

  Rayka was pissed.

  Granted, she wasn’t nearly as pissed as Hugh’s latest two hires who held her by each arm. Each of the two men sported bruises and slashes across their faces—little welcoming gifts from when they tried to gag her. That didn’t stop them from attaching shackles to her every limb, all of which were routed through the heavy iron collar she now wore.

  A small part of her was proud that it took this many chains to make them feel safe. She would have to thank Orro for those private combat lessons later.

  The two goons yanked her down another narrow alley. She could tell that they didn’t want to be seen with her, which made sense given they were blatantly parading her around like a prisoner. They no doubt wanted to avoid what few patrols wandered into this district so late into the night.

  Rayka looked up. One of Elysia’s taller tree-buildings stretched high above her toward the night sky. Below the wall of bark and iron, an unremarkable steel-framed door reflected a single lantern’s glow. The cold surface of the door filled her with foreboding, but she did her best to put a damper on such thoughts.

  Clear minds conquer, Rayka reminded herself.

  It was immediately obvious to Rayka that this was not the main entrance. Or, if it was, it was truly mediocre.

  “Ooh, fancy!” Rayka drawled sarcastically as she raised a petite eyebrow at the sturdy door they marched toward.

  “Shut it!” the man she was pretty sure was named Bree demanded.

  “Good one, brother!” the other man congratulated.

  “Thank you. I was quite proud of that one. Felt very sinister when I said it,” Bree commented with a nod of his head.

  “It was very sinister,” Rayka added with a bright smile and ice in her eyes.

  “Thank you—” Bree began but the other man shook his head.

  “She’s making fun of us, Bree. Don’t fall for it again,” Bree’s brother whispered far too loudly to be effective.

  Rayka sighed.

  “Idiots,” she breathed.

  Adjusting her shoulders so that the collar dug into a different section of her skin, she forced herself to remember the tricks Cade had taught her. He’d explained for far too many hours how it was possible to memorize the layout of a building just by studying its exterior. But through the pain and distant glowflake light, it was nearly impossible to gauge the exact size of this place.

  Yes, she convinced herself. That’s why I can’t figure it out. The lighting, and not that boring lecture he made me endure… twice.

  Rayka’s gut writhed as a pit formed there. She would get out of this. She would escape whatever foul prison they put her in.

  The unmistakable blend of sweat and perfume wafted from some unseen window far above, settling down on them like morning dew on grass. It left her feeling oddly soggy—a feeling she immediately despised.

  But only one business was open this late and smelled like that.

  “Don’t tell me…” Rayka hissed through gritted teeth. She lifted her chin, unwilling to let despair settle in.

  Steel hinges cried in protest as the door was yanked open. Rayka spotted two more guards within the warm glow of the building. They wore sleeveless leather jerkins embossed with reds and pinks.

  “Is this someone’s house?” Rayka asked Bree’s brother on her left.

  “Shut your mouth before I bleed it dry, girl,” he retorted.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over your black eye. Could you speak up?” Rayka requested with enough false earnestness that both of her captors hesitated.

  “Did she really not hear you?” Bree whispered.

  “I thought I enunciated properly. Did you hear me okay?” Bree’s brother inquired in what Rayka could only describe as an insecure whine.

  “I did. I don’t know how she misheard you, Bron,” Bree replied.

  “Wait…” Bron said, and Rayka’s chains were yanked back yet again.

  She let out a low curse at the jarring halt, made worse by the ungodly stench of Bron’s mouth as he leaned in and pointed a finger at her face.

  “Were you making fun of us again?!” Bron shouted loudly enough to echo across the alleyway.

  A cool wind kicked through the tight space, sending a chill up Rayka’s spine. She merely smiled tantalizingly, raising a single eyebrow at the bearded man.

  Rage flickered to life behind her captor’s eyes, and he raised a fist.

  It started to glow.

  “Why, you—” Bron started, but a heavy hand gripped his shoulder tightly.

  “We’ll take it from here,” A low and melodic voice declared, halting Bron’s outburst. “This prisoner is under George’s protection now. You can leave.”

  Bree, Bron, and Rayka all turned as one to peer up at the mountain of muscle that now blocked their way. The leather jerkin he wore contoured over his chiseled chest, and a strong jaw cut across his smooth face.

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  Bron shoved the hand off, but it was clearly a struggle for the rugged warrior.

  “And who the hell are you?” he asked the man blocking their way.

  “I am Jedidiah,” the man said. “Now, leave before I am forced to make you.”

  “It’s alright, brother,” Bree whispered loudly. “Hugh said to bring her to this entrance, and then George’s people would pick her up. Let’s just go.”

  Bron hesitated, fury still evident in his gaze.

  “This isn’t over!” Bron shouted, his finger pointed directly at Jedidiah. “I didn’t lose, okay?”

  “Whatever you say,” Rayka sneered at the cold-hearted bastard. She might not be able to get back at him for what he did to her teammates, but pettiness was a pretty good place to start.

  Bron cursed loudly at her, but his brother pulled him by the arm back up the alley.

  Rayka turned to the small giant. “Thanks for getting rid of them. Do you take bribes?”

  Jedidiah laughed. It was a low, rumbling, sound that washed over Rayka’s frayed nerves. He smiled warmly down at her. With surprisingly gentle movements, he grabbed her by the hand and led her into the large tree building. When the steel door shut behind her, the soft crackle of powerful enchantments buzzed to life across it.

  Shit, Rayka thought bitterly. There goes my first exit strategy.

  Iron crashed to the floor, and relief swept over Rayka as her chains were removed. She rubbed at her wrists, already annoyed at the blisters forming there.

  “Thanks again. So, about that bribe?” Rayka asked Jedidiah.

  The female guard standing in front of her laughed in much the same way Jedidiah had.

  “Oh, honey!” the guard said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “You couldn’t afford our bribes if you worked here for a couple of years! Trust me, bribing us would be harder than escaping The Night Ladies’ Court, and escaping is impossible.”

  “She’s right,” Jedidiah added as he picked up Rayka’s chains like they weighed nothing. “Every year, the nobles we kidnap for ransom always get it in their heads to try and escape. So annoying.”

  The massive man shook his head sadly.

  “You guys do this a lot?” Rayka inquired as the female guard gently pushed her forward.

  Rayka memorized the red velvet carpet and intricately carved walls. Bark-like patterns blended seamlessly with murals of all sorts of lecherous activities.

  “Why would a brothel need to ransom off nobility?” Rayka asked, hoping her guess at what this place was—and who they thought she was—were right.

  “Money,” the two guards said in unison, then shared a knowing look.

  “Now, if you’ll follow me this way,” the woman inquired politely.

  Rayka took in the stocky guard. She had shoulder length brown hair, a jerkin, and what appeared to be an enchanted baton of some kind. Her stance spoke of battle while her smile proclaimed a quiet dignity.

  None of this was what she was expecting.

  “Alright,” Rayka answered, trying to see if there were any valuables or weapons she might slip into her hand along the way.

  They moved through the long carpeted hallway, taking what she guessed were staff corridors up through the floors of the impressive facility. Stairs twisted around tight pillars, and soon Rayka’s mind ached with the mental map she was attempting to keep straight.

  This place was a labyrinth.

  The only thing she was sure of was that each floor was themed. There was a gambling den, a pleasure hall, and what might’ve been a series of pools on another. She caught glimpses of gorgeous mortals of all races lounging with equally undressed guests, chatting and drinking despite the late hour. Or, perhaps, because of it.

  “Here we are!” Jedidiah exclaimed.

  He led the way down a line of suites, each with their door frame enchanted much like the steel door far below them. Locked. Guarded.

  Trapped.

  The muscular warrior opened the door, and the guardswoman prodded Rayka into the massive room. Rayka gasped. It was an opulent bedroom, filled with cushions and silken drapery. A separate door off to the left belied a washbasin and possibly even a plumbed bathroom. Expensive indeed.

  “Do you treat all kidnapped noblewomen like this?” Rayka inquired with her best high-society accent.

  “Some of them get adjoining rooms if they’re related,” Jedidiah explained with a lazy shrug.

  “Or if they’re bored,” the guardswoman added with a dry laugh.

  “Ring that bell if you need anything!” Jedidiah proclaimed far too happily. “We’re kidnappers, not savages. Don’t worry. George will make sure whoever you belong to gets notified with the bill of your safe recovery by first light! We do this all the time, so just sit back and relax!”

  “...thanks,” Rayka answered with narrowed eyes.

  They shut the door behind them, and the wards over the door hummed into existence.

  Rayka studied her new room. It really was extremely nice, all soft edges and sensuous textures. If this was how she was to suffer until she figured a way out of this place, she could live with that.

  Her throat started to itch. Scratching at her neck, she began to walk along the edge of this expansive suite, locked windows on the opposite wall letting in the evening glow of this forested metropolis. She looked for hidden lockboxes, items she could use as weapons, or anything else of use.

  Despite the shiny first impression she’d had of her new prison cell, it was still that.

  A cell.

  Rayka tried to imagine how she might strangle someone with the silk drapes, the itch in her throat worsening. Her breath quickened.

  “What the—” Rayka rasped, suddenly unable to inhale fully. It was like a massive boulder was laying atop her lungs.

  “Done pretending to be some doe-eyed noblewoman?” a sinister voice inquired from somewhere behind Rayka.

  She whirled, though the motion sent stars flying across her vision. Her throat burned.

  The man stepped out of the shadows so thick she hadn’t noticed them before. His scarred face, gray beard, and wicked smile told her all she needed to know in a single heartbeat.

  Hugh.

  His hand was outstretched with the palm opened to the ceiling. Green magic swirled across it, vibrant in the dim light of the room.

  “You… bastard!” Rayka tried to bellow, but her voice came out in ragged gasps.

  Hugh’s wind magic whirled more quickly across his hand, and Rayka realized he was the one suffocating her.

  He was stealing her life away—and he was smiling.

  “Now, let’s have a chat, you and I,” Hugh growled, low and mocking.

  His thick accent grated on her nerves like a long-forgotten nightmare, dredging up old memories of his malice—ruthlessness he’d hidden so well under pragmatism and results.

  Hugh leaned in, and Rayka fought the bile that rose in her throat, even as she struggled to catch her breath.

  “What is Cade searching for beneath the arena?” Hugh inquired as if they were discussing the weather.

  Rayka lashed out at him, but her blow went wide. Hugh dodged easily, but she counted on that. Telegraphed it for him. She kicked out, faster than before, catching his head with her own. Warm blood trickled down the traitor’s forehead, and Rayka smiled.

  Hugh squeezed his hand into a fist, and pain erupted through Rayka’s body. Blackness encroached on the edges of her vision.

  “Tell me what you know, bitch, and I’ll make it stop,” Hugh spat. “Where is the Remnant? I know he searches for it. Tell me where it is, and this can all end.”

  “Fuck… you,” Rayka croaked.

  “Fine,” Hugh said with a sigh. “The hard way it is.”

  But Rayka spotted the glimmer there.

  The gleam of manic satisfaction.

  He was enjoying this.

  Hugh twisted his fist in the air, and Rayka’s body shuddered with pain. She collapsed to the floor, the rug beneath her unable to soften the agony that swept through every inch of her body.

  “Let’s try this again, girl,” Hugh sneered.

  And so Rayka’s nightmare truly began.

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