The Last Queen Book Two by Odette C. Bell

Author:Odette C. Bell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action urban fantasy, urban fantasy series, magic adventure
Publisher: Odette C. Bell
Published: 2017-06-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

It takes a long time to rouse.

It’s dark, and though once upon a time I could see through the dark, for some reason I cannot penetrate the gloom that surrounds me. There is something exquisitely stifling about it, almost as if it is more than the mere lack of illumination and is somehow alive.

I try to fight against it, but it doesn’t take me long to realize that I have no magic to call on.

Suddenly, my eyes jerk as wide as they possibly can go. I also feel the ropes holding me in place.

They have the same cold touch as the horse’s attack.

I can move my head, but that’s about it, and I now allow my lips to crack open. “Are you out there?” I demand, proud my voice doesn’t waver with fear.

But the fear is here – it’s all around me, inside me, all pervading. It’s making my heart thump at a million miles an hour, and I can barely breathe.

Nobody answers.

I’m left to my own devices, just staring into the darkness, wondering how screwed I am for at least another hour.

Though my mind should be locked on the prospect of what the horse will do to me – just which king he’ll sell me to – there’s another thought that slams into my head.

Though I don’t know how long chess games run, I can imagine that by now John has finished his match with Spencer, and he’s gone back to the tower.

Before I started looking into Spencer, I sent John a text saying I was sick and I was going back home.

John will look for me. And when he doesn’t find me?

I clench my teeth and hiss through them.

Finally, I hear something creak. It’s a door, and it’s on the opposite side of the room.

For the first time since I woke an hour ago, I see a crack of light.

My eyes are now so sensitized to the dark that that mere strip of illumination makes me jerk my head away and wince in pain.

The door creaks all the way open, and I catch a glimpse of a familiar figure.

It’s the horse.

He is still in that long, ankle-length jacket, still has his hat on, even though we’re inside. And, more importantly, his body is still encased in a faint red magical glow.

I can feel it – I don’t just need to see it. And yet, I’m still aware of the fact that I can barely produce any magic myself.

The horse doesn’t say anything and simply stands in the doorway, shifting his head this way and that as he clearly assesses me in my prison.

He takes one step in, and his feet press against a floorboard that creaks beneath him.

Despite the fact he’s glowing and there’s light making it in from the hallway outside, for some reason, it can’t penetrate into the room, and I can’t see where I am.

It has to be magic.

Sure enough, as the horse takes several more steps into the room and stops in front of me, I can only barely make him out.

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