(eng) Karen Azinger - Silk & Steel 07 by The Battle Immortal

Author:The Battle Immortal [Immortal, The Battle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

48

The Priestess

The Priestess opened an eye and found herself alive. The revelation shocked her. The Mordant let her live! He'd made a grievous mistake...or else the Dark God had interceded. The Priestess sat up, taking stock of her body. Naked, she lay huddled in the far corner of her bedchamber, sodden with cold sweat. Her nose rankled, disgusted by her own stink. She'd soiled herself. Bruises mottled her entire body, probably caused by her own thrashing, yet nothing was broken. Her skin remained unflayed, her face unburned, her bones whole. She shuddered, remembering the excruciating agony. The Mordant had sought to break her spirit, not her body. He wanted her as a minion...as a plaything.

Anger sparked through her, proving he'd failed.

"Lydia!" Her voice was a harsh croak, her throat raw from too much screaming. "Tara!" She tried again, seeking help from her handmaidens.

No one came. No one answered.

And then she remembered the screams outside the door.

She tried to stand, but her legs buckled beneath her, every muscle bruised and sore. Like a worm, she crawled to the shattered doorway.

The coppery stench of death filled the outer room. And then she saw them, crumpled on the floor, their throats slit like sacrifices.

Her handmaidens!

Her resolve hardened.

She found a pitcher of water and cleaned herself. Her raven-dark hair was a tangle of knots, yet she refused to cut it. Her body was so sore that every movement hurt, yet she persisted. Finally cleaned and combed, she dressed herself in a low-cut gown of purple velvet. Searching among the wreckage of her bedchamber, she found her serpentine armbands and ring, poison hidden beneath the enameled scales. She slipped them on, the fangs of a serpent restored. Armored with death, she sought the Eye.

Reaching under the bed, she searched for the great moonstone. Flailing left and right, her hand found nothing. A shiver of fear pierced her. What if the Mordant had the Eye! Frantic, she shoved the bed aside. She found the great moonstone rolled against the back wall, swathed in cocoon of dust. Snatching it up, she cradled it close. The Eye knew her, throbbing like a second heartbeat at her touch. The Dark Lord had not abandoned her. Whispering a prayer of thanks, she settled the chain around her neck, the great moonstone dangling in her ample cleavage.

Potent with magic and poison, the Priestess felt renewed.

Her mind turned to her plan, intent on vengeance. Much would depend on how many days had elapsed since the Mordant's assault.

Standing on wobbly legs, the Priestess went to the window and threw back the shutters. Twilight cloaked the rear garden in shades of rose and lavender. Twilight, but how many days? Standing at the window, she pondered the question.

Movement in the garden snagged her gaze. A dark-clad figure stepped from the shadows, deliberately standing in the waning light. The assassin stared up at her.

Graylin! She knew his face, she knew his soul. This one was sworn to her, her first conquest among the Mordant's men. The Priestess made a beckoning gesture and he nodded his assent.

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