Stolen Knight by Keith W. Willis

Author:Keith W. Willis
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Champagne Book Group
Published: 2022-06-25T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Morgan seethed.

Glowering into his nearly empty wine glass, he fumed silently. Around him music played, people chattered, and everyone made merry. Except Morgan McRobbie. Where the devil was Marissa? He scanned the hall once more, hoping to catch a glimpse of her head, familiar to him now as his own features in the glass, somewhere among the cacophony of revelers.

She wasn’t in the room. Neither, for that matter, was their host, Prince Azim. Morgan’s brows rose, even as his mood lowered. This didn’t bode well.

Under normal circumstances, he’d bet on Marissa against all comers. This situation was far from normal. Azim was a mage of extraordinary power and few scruples. Combined with what Morgan knew of the Parthanians casual disregard for the sanctity of another man’s wife, Morgan was reduced to gnashing his teeth while an excellent vintage turned to ashes on his tongue.

If she wasn’t back at this side by the time the orchestra finished the next song, he would start taking Azim’s palace apart, stone by bloody pink stone, until he found her.

An incessant, annoying buzz finally resolved itself into a voice by his ear. Blinking, he found himself confronted with Princess Saia.

“Come,” she said. She tugged urgently on his sleeve. “We must hurry.”

Morgan stared at her, not comprehending her words.

“Come on!” She tugged harder. “There’s no time to waste. If you want to save your duchess from Azim, we must hurry.”

Morgan shot up from his seat like he’d been launched from a catapult. “Where?”

“Follow me. It’s not too far. I imagine he has spirited her away to his treasure chamber. Such is his habit.”

He followed in her wake. She padded swiftly down a dimly lit passageway. Her slippers slapped softly against the marble floor, in counterpoint to the clatter of his boots. Saia halted.

“Take off those noisy boots,” she ordered. “Azim will hear us.”

He complied at once, asking, “Why are you doing this?” The princess merely shook her head and placed a finger to her lips.

Finally, after a myriad of twists and turns which he reckoned took them to a remote part of the palace, she stopped. The walls were identical to the rest of their route: dark, forbidding, and exceptionally solid. Still, when she directed him to stand in a particular spot, he was not about to argue.

Once he was in position, she raised her small fist and pounded on a section of the wall. Nothing happened.

She pounded again, more forcefully this time. “Azim!” she cried.

A crack appeared in the paneling, and light streamed through to dispel the gloom. The crack widened, and a door became visible, set seamlessly into the wall’s wooden panels.

The door opened outwards, toward Morgan, effectively concealing him from the view of anyone—presumably Prince Azim—in the room. “The palace had better be on fire,” growled Azim, his voice cold with fury. “Because it’s the only reason—”

“Azim, you must come at once,” Saia blurted. “That old fool Vinticus has challenged Avir to a duel of spells, right in the great hall.”

“What? Curse them both! All right, all right, I’ll come.

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