Read on for an excerpt from the book:
The inn was eerily quiet and nearly deserted. There was an old innkeeper behind a counter who nodded to Benji as they entered. The innkeeper served ale to a man who was obviously well into his cups. Two men sat before a blazing fire, looking half-asleep and lost in the shadows. A table in the corner held another man, facedown, who was likely passed out from too much drink. Other than that, the inn was empty.
Boann rushed in with Benji, obviously excited. But Marella was cautious and not a little frightened. Something didn’t feel right. She didn’t trust these men, especially Roc and Benji. They kept casting furtive glances toward the fireplace, glances she wouldn’t have seen if she hadn’t been looking for them. Something was happening, but she couldn’t figure out what that something might be. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
As Benji started pulling Boann toward the stairs that led to the chambers on the second level, Marella thought she knew what Benji had in mind. She thought of warning Boann, but quickly realized that Boann was welcoming his advances. If Benji intended to bed her and she had no objection, what could Marella do? Absolutely nothing, that was what she could do.
But she had to try. “Boann, we should stay down here. In full view,” she said pointedly.
“You think I’m going to deflower your cousin, is that it?” Benji asked. She didn’t reply but her expression said it all. He only laughed. “If you’re so worried about her, come up with us.”
“You think we need a chaperon?” Boann asked, cuddling up against his chest. She turned in his arms and squirmed against him, delighting in his quick intake of breath.
His arms tightened about her as he chuckled low in her ear. “I think it’s wise if we have some … supervision. I don’t want to get carried away with such a delightful package.”
The pair moved up the stairs again and Marella was forced to make a choice. Stay below or accompany her cousin. If she stayed below, not only was Boann left alone with Benji, but Marella would be here, in the common room of the inn, with a bunch of men she really didn’t know. That didn’t strike her as the safest choice. As Boann and Benji reached the top of the stairs, Marella hurried after them.
The pair disappeared into a chamber off to the left and Marella followed, slipping in through the door. As Boann teased and danced around the room, Marella went to stand in the corner and took stock of her surroundings. What she saw confused her and she tried to reconcile what she saw with what she’d been told.
The shutters for the single window in the chamber were closed and barred, but it was a warm enough night to leave the windows open. There was no reason to keep a window on the second level closed on such a warm night. There was a trunk over by the hearth, a large trunk that looked as if it was used to transport fine gowns, but no gowns or even fabric were in evidence. When she looked closer, Marella could see several small holes in the trunk. Why would anyone drill holes in a trunk? The holes made it useless for protecting its contents from water or pests.
She moved closer to the trunk, hoping her mind would provide her with the answer. But instead she found another question. There was a small bottle on the table beside the trunk. It was no larger than her hand, more of a flask than a bottle. Marella picked it up and pulled the stopper out, taking a small sniff. She reeled and put the flask down before she dropped it. Whatever was in the flask made her head spin. She was forced to place her hands flat on the table and lean down, trying to regain her equilibrium. She was so disoriented that she didn’t hear the chamber door open and close behind her.
“Looks like someone got curious,” came an unknown masculine voice from behind her. It wasn’t Benji. Marella turned just as Boann let out a frightened squeal that was quickly cut off by Benji’s strong arms.
There were four new men in the room, and Marella recognized them as the strangers from the common room. While she was still deciding what to do, one of them approached her. She turned and tried to run, but escape wasn’t possible. He soon held her in his arms, squeezing to let her know that he could hurt her with every little effort.
“Scream and I’ll do worse than squeeze,” he snapped next to her ear.
Beside the bed, Boann was trying to kick her way free of Benji, but she had no more success than Marella. One of the other men approached Benji and ripped Boann from his arms, throwing her on the bed and straddling her to keep her in place. Boann might have screamed but the man slapped her, threatening worse if she didn’t keep quiet. Boann whimpered but didn’t scream.
“Aaron, Dallas!” one of the other men snapped, still standing by the door. “No bruises!”
Marella’s eyes went to the door and she thought for a moment that the liquid in the flask was making her see double. Two men, identical, stood near the door, unmoving and uncompromising. After studying them, she realized they weren’t really identical. One had lighter hair and the other had more lines around his eyes, making him appear older. But they were the same height, had the same facial structure, and even the same body type. Twins, Marella decided.
The barked order of the one with lighter hair at least had her captor easing his hold, allowing Marella to breath. On the bed, the man restraining Boann moved back a bit.
Feeling eyes moving over her body, Marella looked back toward the door. The man who hadn’t yet spoken, the twin who appeared older, was gazing at her, then to Boann and back again. “Which one is the princess?”
“Both, actually,” Benji replied. “But Boann is the one on the bed.”
“And the other?” The man’s eyes were burning into her leather-clad body and Marella wished she could cover herself with a thick blanket.
“Her cousin, Princess Marella.” Benji moved closer to the twins. “Daughter of Crown Prince Damuk of the Abital Empire.”
The man moved toward her and Marella tried to shrink back into the one who held her. But there was nowhere to go. He came up to her and ran his hand down her cheek. He spoke to Benji while still looking at her. “You weren’t asked to take any other. Just Boann.”
Benji cleared his throat. “I know. I thought you might like two for the price of one. Ransom both girls.”
Raising his eyebrow, the man didn’t respond to this. He was silent for so long that his twin finally moved forward. “Good idea, Benji. Here,” he took out two bags of gold and handed them to the young courtier. “Split this with your cohorts.” It was a lot more money than Benji had demanded, but William wanted to keep the courtier’s loyalty. They might need him later. With a wave of his hand he dismissed Benji and moved toward the table. Picking up the flask, he removed a cloth from his pocket.
“What do you want to do with the second girl?” he asked his brother as he moved toward Boann. She struggled, but he managed to hold the cloth over her mouth and nose. She slumped back against the pillows almost instantly, unconscious.
“What did you do to her?” Marella cried, fearing her cousin was dead.
William raised an eyebrow at the feisty young princess. “She’s only asleep, Your Highness. She will recover in a few candlemarks.” The girl let out a relieved sigh that had William chuckling. Still, he looked toward his brother for direction.
Clinton was considering. The girl was pretty enough, but her cousin would occupy all his energy. He didn’t have time for a second girl. It didn’t matter whose daughter she was. Still … she was pretty. He exchanged a glance with his brother. “Do you want her?” Clinton gave a purely mental shrug. He could always use two girls.
He might have said no but for the look in Clinton’s eyes. William knew his brother was fully capable of claiming both girls even if he seemed unwilling to take the second girl at the moment. The granddaughter of the Emperor … she was too juicy a plum to deny. For the girl’s sake, he nodded. At least, he told himself it was for the girl’s sake.
Clinton inclined his head and William clamped the cloth over Marella’s mouth and nose, watching as she faded into unconsciousness. When she slumped in Aaron’s arms, he removed the cloth and tucked it and the flask inside his doublet. Then he studied the trunk next to the cold fireplace. It was large, but he wasn’t sure it was large enough for two girls.
“Load Boann in first,” Clinton suggested, reading his brother’s thoughts. “If we have to leave one, it’s not going to be mine.”
William nodded and moved toward Boann. He shoved at Dallas until the man moved and lifted the girl gently, placing her in the trunk and cradling her head with a soft blanket. He didn’t want to hurt either girl. When Boann was as comfortable as he could make her, he went for Marella, still clutched in Aaron’s arms. She was even lighter than her cousin, and her hair was slightly longer. He settled her in the trunk, trying to keep too much of her weight from resting on her cousin, and made her comfortable. Both girls fit, but barely. He closed the lid, forcing down his desire to let both girls go. That wasn’t his decision to make.
“Aaron, Dallas, get the trunk,” Clinton ordered. As the two men bumped the trunk toward the door, both Clinton and William flinched. “Gently!” Clinton snapped. He watched critically as the men steadied the trunk.
“Those girls are going to be battered and bruised tomorrow,” William commented.
Clinton followed the trunk from the chamber, his brother close on his heels. He shrugged at William’s concern. “We have ointments and such to treat any minor abrasions. They’ll be —”
“Turn around and go the other way!” William admonished, seeing that the men were about the take the girls down the stairs headfirst. “I don’t want those girls dropped on their heads.” He smiled at Clinton sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Shrugging, because he honestly couldn’t remember what he’d been saying when William interrupted, Clinton just started down the stairs. “Is the wagon prepared?”
“And the horses are rested,” William responded. “We’re as ready as we’re ever going to be.” They were in the common room now which was empty. The innkeeper was being paid to stay in the back and Benji and his men had vanished to begin spending their fortune.
Clinton nodded at his brother’s comment, but he couldn’t help being nervous. When William had guided them into the city, he’d simply followed his brother’s lead, knowing that if they were caught, it didn’t really matter. They hadn’t done anything and there was no evidence that they were going to do anything. Now, they had not one, but two princesses in their possession, unconscious and tucked in a trunk. If they were caught now, they would all be executed. Clinton had no illusions, despite his boasts. His magick was powerful, but he could sense the Imperial mages. They were stronger than he, and he hadn’t had a woman to recharge his energies since leaving the island. His own personal power would not be enough against at least a dozen trained Imperial mages. Not even close.
So he watched carefully as Aaron and Dallas loaded the wagon. Besides the trunk with the girls, there were four trunks filled with fancy fabrics. The girls were placed on the bottom, with a fabric trunk on either side. Two more fabric trunks were placed on top. All five trunks were identical from the outside. If someone wanted to find the girls, they’d have to search each trunk.
When the trunks were loaded, Clinton took his seat, ready to drive the wagon from the city. He was dressed as a successful merchant, while William and the other men were dressed as bodyguards. It wasn’t unusual for a merchant to hire guards and travel under the cover of darkness when transporting valuable goods. He only hoped the guards at the city gates wouldn’t search the cargo. The palace guards certainly would have, which is why Clinton hadn’t attempted to take the girl from inside the palace complex.
The group rattled down the cobblestone streets, making far too much noise for this time of night, but no one paid them any mind. Merchant wagons were a fairly common sight in Scytha and the streets were almost empty anyway. But still, Clinton was uneasy. One false move and they’d have to fight their way out of the capital, pursued by guards all the way to the river and possibly beyond.
As they approached the northernmost city gate, Clinton slowed the wagon. The gates were closed after nightfall, so Clinton would have to talk his way through. On second thought, I’d better let William deal with it. Clinton knew very well that William was better with words. As a city guard emerged from the gatehouse, Clinton waved an imperious hand at his brother. William rolled his eyes but moved forward.
After a brief conversation, the guard disappeared into the gatehouse. A moment later, the gate slid open with a great creak. The small group rolled through the gates and Clinton almost urged the horses to a faster pace. But he knew that the guards might get suspicious, so he held the beasts to a fast walk.
Once they were out of sight of the walls and any guards who patrolled the outskirts of Scytha, William took the lead. They left the road and maneuvered the wagon into a grove of trees. Four more horses waited in this grove. They’d wanted the additional horses for several reasons, including anonymity. If the guards had studied their horses closely and an alarm was raised, they didn’t want to be recognizable.
It was for this same reason that each of the men changed clothes. Instead of guards and a merchant, they became four lords, well dressed and impeccably groomed. Clinton was the first to finish altering his appearance. He strode over to the trunks and pushed the top two off the wagon. They landed with a thud on the soft earth.
Throwing open the lid to the trunk that held the two girls, he stared down at them. “Which one is Boann?”
William jumped up into the wagon and leaned down, lifting Marella out gently. “Marella was on top,” he replied as he stepped down and laid Marella out on the grass. He watched as Clinton pulled Boann out and threw her over his shoulder. “Do we have enough clothing for two girls?”
“We should,” Dallas replied. “I didn’t know exactly what size the princess was, so I threw in several gowns. Four gowns.”
Clinton had already pulled a gown out from one of the trunks still on the wagon. He stripped the masculine clothing from Boann’s still body without preamble, but stopped before dressing her. His eyes roamed over her naked form and he smiled. “Well, I’m luckier than I thought. And here I was under the impression that princesses were lazy creatures, prone to carrying too much weight. This one is … lovely.” Dallas and Aaron admired her exposed body, whispering amongst themselves.
“You should dress her before she catches a chill,” William admonished. He was already pulling the clothing from Marella, but he didn’t want anyone ogling her. Taking care to keep her covered, he dressed her swiftly, not even taking a moment to admire her before ensuring her modesty was preserved.
His obvious concern for the girl made Clinton laugh. “You’re too tenderhearted, brother. She’s only a woman.”
“I have a better opinion of women than you do.” It was true. William had spent more time with their mother before she died. Their mother had been a lovely and refined lady, a lady who’d loved both her sons and mourned the fact that she rarely saw the elder twin. She had been deserving of love and respect, and had taught William that all women were entitled to a certain level of respect. He still felt that, even after years of serving his brother.
Clinton only shrugged and started to dress Boann. Once this task was completed, the men turned the old horses free and ounted the new steeds, the girls riding in front of William and Clinton. Without a backward glance, they rode north toward the river.
