Study Collection. Maria V. Snyder
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Wren, I found our rat!” one guard exclaimed, grabbing my wrist.
Alert, I gaped at the green diamonds on the guard’s uniform.
“Good for you,” Wren said. “Let’s show your catch to General Brazell.”
“The General isn’t fond of live rats. Especially this one.”
The guard shook me hard. Pain coursed up my arm to my shoulder and neck. In a panic, I searched the hallway for help. It was deserted.
“That’s right, he prefers them skinned alive.”
I’d heard enough. I did what any good rat would do. I bit down on the guard’s hand until I tasted blood. Yelping and cursing in surprise, his grip lessened. I jerked my arm out of his grasp and ran.
5
I WAS ONLY A COUPLE OF STEPS away from Brazell’s guards when they recovered from their surprise and began to chase me. Being terrified and unburdened of weapons, I had a slight advantage. It wouldn’t last. I was already puffing with the effort.
The corridors were mysteriously empty as I ran through them. If I did find someone, I wasn’t really sure they would or could help me. Like a rat, my only hope of escape was to find a hole to hide in.
I ran without a plan, caring only about keeping ahead of the guards. The corridors blurred together until I imagined I was running in place and it was the walls that were moving. I slowed for a moment to get my bearings. Where was I?
The light in the hallway was waning. My pounding steps kicked dust up from the floor. I had headed toward an isolated part of the castle, a perfect place for a quiet murder. Quiet because I wouldn’t have enough air in my lungs to scream.
I made a quick right turn into a corridor that led off into darkness. Momentarily out of the guards’ sight, I pushed against the first door I encountered. Groaning and creaking, it yielded slightly under my weight, and then stuck tight. A gap big enough for my body, but not my head. Hearing the guards turn down the corridor, I threw myself against the door. It moved another inch. I tumbled headfirst into a dark room, and landed on the floor.
The guards found the door. I watched in horror as they tried to muscle it open. The gap began to expand. I scanned the room. My eyes adjusted to the gloom. Empty barrels and rotten sacks of grain littered the floor. A pile of rugs was stacked against the far wall below a window.
The door surrendered a couple more inches to the guards’ efforts before lodging again. I stood, and stacked the barrels on top of the rug pile. Scrambling up them, I reached the window, only to discover it was too small for me to fit through.
The door cracked ominously. I used my elbow to shatter the windowpane. Pulling the ragged glass fragments out of the frame, I tossed them to the floor. Blood ran down my arm. Heedless of the pain, I jumped down, pressed myself against the wall next to the doorway, and fought to stifle the harsh sound of my breathing.
With a loud groan, the door stopped mere inches from my face as the guards stumbled into the storeroom.
“Check the window. I’ll cover the door,” Wren said.
I peeked around the edge. Wren’s companion walked to the pile of rugs and barrels, crushing glass beneath his boots.
My plan wasn’t going to work. Wren blocked my escape route. The broken window would only delay the inevitable.
“Too small, she’s still here,” the guard called from above.
My rough breathing had accelerated into fast gasps. I felt light-headed. The rat trap had sprung. I was immobilized in its metal jaws.
My thoughts jumbled into a cloud of images. I clutched at the door, trying not to fall. A buzzing sound burst uncontrolled from my throat. I was unable to suppress the drone. Trying harder only caused the sound to grow louder.
I staggered out from behind the door. With all the noise I made, the guards didn’t even glance in my direction. They seemed frozen in place.
My lungs strained for air. On the verge of passing out, the buzzing then released me. The sound still rang in the room, but it no longer came from me.
The guards continued to be unresponsive. After taking several deep breaths, I bolted from the room. I wasn’t going to waste time trying to understand. The buzzing sound followed me as I ran back the way we had come.
The loud hum ended as soon as I started seeing other servants hurrying through the hallway. Odd looks were cast my way. I realized I must be quite a sight. I forced myself to stop running as I tried to calm my hammering heart.
My throat burned from panting, my uniform was stained, pain throbbed in my elbow, and bright red beads dripped off my fingers. Looking at my hands, I saw deep cuts from handling the glass. I gazed at the blood on the floor.
Turning around, I saw a line of crimson drops disappearing down the corridor. I clutched my arms to my chest, but it was too late. I had left a blood trail, and there were Brazell’s guards, like trained dogs, following it.
They were coming around the corner at the far end of the hall. Undetected so far, I knew any sudden movement would draw their attention. I joined a group of servants, hoping to blend in. Pain pulsated in harmony with my laboring heartbeat.
When I reached a turn, I risked a glance over my shoulder. The guards stood at the spot where my blood trail had ended. Wren gestured as he argued with his partner. I slipped around the corner unnoticed, then bumped right into Valek.
“Yelena! What happened to you?” Valek grabbed my arm.
I winced. He let go.
“I…fell…on some glass.” It was weak. I hurried to cover it. “I’m on my way to get cleaned up.” As I began to walk past Valek, he grasped my shoulder, spinning me around.
“You need to see a medic.”
“Ah…okay.” I tried once more to get past Valek.
“The medic is this way.” Valek pulled on my shoulder, forcing me to follow him back down the corridor toward the guards. Foolishly, I hoped they wouldn’t see me, but as we walked past they smiled, falling into step behind us.
I glanced at Valek. There was no expression on his face. His grip on my shoulder tightened. Was Valek leading me to some secluded spot where the three of them could kill me? Should I make a break for it? But if Valek had wanted me dead, he had only to withhold the antidote to Butterfly’s Dust.
When the hallway emptied of people, Valek let go of my shoulder and swung around to face the two guards. I stayed close behind him.
“Are you lost?” Valek asked the guards.
“No, sir,” said Wren. A foot taller than Valek, his hands were the size of my head. “Just want to reclaim our prisoner.” Wren tried to reach around Valek to grab me.
Valek deflected his hand. “Your prisoner?” Valek’s voice sliced through the air like steel.
The guards looked at each other in disbelief. Valek had no weapons. While the other guard was shorter than Wren, he still outweighed the other two men. Identical cocky smirks touched both guards’ faces. I wondered if sneering and glaring were part of their training. Rand the cook would probably bet a month’s wages on Brazell’s soldiers winning this argument.
“Actually, General Brazell’s prisoner, sir. Now, if you would…” Wren gestured for Valek to step aside.
“Tell your boss that Valek doesn’t appreciate having his new food taster chased through the castle. And that I would like her to be left alone.”
The guards glanced at each other again. I was beginning to suspect they had only one brain to share between them. Regarding Valek with a more focused expression, they shifted their posture into a fighting stance.
“We have been ordered to bring the girl to the General. Not messages,” Wren said,