Kidnapped

How dare Lord Ka not provide Sabin with a wife. And how dare he lie about having children.

Sabin’s spies learned there were four children living in the mansion built into a cliff face on Troubled Mountain, though they were unsuccessful breaching the heavily guarded residence to find out both age and gender. But surely he had a daughter. At least one. Because the Ka line was blessed. They drew in only the most beautiful people and had the most ethereal, beautiful daughters beyond compare; a gift from the goddess of beauty, her attributes bestowed on the women born in their line.

“Sir.” His subordinate’s voice broke the silence.

Sabin twirled his dagger in his fingers and sheathed it. “Report.”

A cloaked-in-black Joclan entered his study and saluted him, his subordinate ever at the ready. “Sir, I was able to get close enough. I saw two women walking together in the gardens, both wearing face coverings trimmed with the Ka family’s personal design. I believe one of them to be Lord Ka’s daughter. And we believe she’s close to marrying age.”

Annoyance snaked through him. “Gas the residence. I want her brought to me before the end of the week.” He’d have his trophy wife and flaunt her when the time was right. It’d serve as one form of revenge for Lord Ka’s snub. No one got away with treating the adopted son of the highest-ranking family in the Ba clan that way.

A day at the hidden hot springs was just what Kahli needed. Under cover of night, she slipped from the hidden tunnel in the mountain and into the herb garden near the kitchens of her residence.

All was eerily silent.

She paused and perked her ear.

Nothing. No cooks gossiping about servants. No insects singing. Not even a rustle from a soft breeze through the trees.

Her hackles raised. Her family.

Pulse racing, Kahli picked up her skirts and hurried on slippered feet to the side entrance to the kitchens. Bodies littered the floor.

Numbing cold flashed through her, and her chest tightened. No one had ever breached her home.

An even, slow breath caught her attention to her left.

She turned and crept closer to a servant sprawled on the floor; a tray, broken fine dishes, and food scattered. The woman’s chest steadily rose and fell.

Kahli’s weakening joints gave out, sending her crashing to her knees. The lady wasn’t dead. Thank the gods.

She glanced around. The next person over, their chest rose and fell. Also asleep.

Her family. Her heart leapt into her throat.

A rush of adrenaline surged through her, lending her strength. She climbed to her feet and hurried through the second level, up to the third, and to their private family gathering room.

Father lay on the floor, a dagger clutched in his hand, Mother slumped on the couch with one of Kahli’s little brothers.

Ice trickled through her. Cailyan and their baby brother weren’t with them.

She bolted from the room and sprinted to the nursery. Two nursemaids were fast asleep, one crumpled on the floor, another reclined in the chair next to the bassinet. She hurried in. A little bubble grew and shrunk from one tiny nostril. He was fine. But what about her little sister?

Kahli rushed to her sister’s room. Five guards lay in pools of blood, and sister’s favorite tea cup lay shattered in pieces at the little table in the sitting area in one corner of the large room. A scream ripped from her while her heart seized. Cailyan!

Body shaking, she clamored to a busted door leading out onto the private balcony. A piece of soft lavender cloth was caught on a hook that’d held a hanging decoration.

Numbness filtered through her as dots filled her vision. No. No, no, no. Not Cailyan.

Her heart painfully constricted. “Cailyan!”

Elaborate Lies

Sabin donned a simple brown robe and covered his head, hiding his tribal tattoos along the shaved sides. He tucked his ponytail in the back of his cloak and followed four of his guards dressed as monks through the monastery façade. Every detail was sheer perfection, the design based on an ancient monastery long gone.

They stepped into the public area where people came to pray and worship their gods.

A woman entered a confessional chamber, and one of his men dressed as a monk slipped into the connected chamber. Maybe they’d heard news about the kidnapping and efforts the lord went to in finding his precious daughter and would report later.

Sabin’s bride, she should be there any moment. He picked up his pace. A daughter of Ka; a rare beauty. The perfect trophy wife to show the world he was chosen by the gods. But he wasn’t chosen. Though they did, however, show him favor.

The only way to get what he wanted was to do everything himself. There was no way he was going to wait for fate to slowly lay out his destiny for him.

“P-p-please.” A soft, youthful voice quivered. “I, I want to go home.”

He flexed his fingers. Surely she wasn’t his bride. Such a beauty was sure to be confident and strong.

Sabin turned and halted. A petite woman in a dirty, soft lavender dress—her face covered with the same color—stood pleading with one of his men.

He let out a slow, steady breath. She must’ve been spoiled. And maybe she was just frightened. Once she knew she wasn’t in any danger, her personality would reveal itself.

Still clad in his black uniform, Joclan’s shoulders slumped. “Miss, I’m terribly sorry, but please remember, we’d heard your home was going to be attacked, so we were sent to save you and your family. Your family, they’re safe. All were extracted in time. But you can’t return home, not until the danger’s passed.”

The fabric over her face quivered.

That was enough. She should’ve been grateful for the lies.

Sabin slowed his gait and made his way to her.

Pale blue eyes lifted and rounded as a fat tear rolled down and soaked into the fabric at her cheek. Gods, save him. She needed some toughening up.

He reached out and took her small hand. “Come. A room and bath’s been prepared for you. You’ll find gowns in your wardrobe as well as other luxuries and basic needs.” He turned and guided her further into the public part of the fake monastery.

“I, I...” A sniffle clawed at his nerves. “I want to see my family.” Her eyes watered as she squirmed in place.

Yes, yes, he gathered as much. “For your safety and theirs, you must stay here for now. The god of protection must surely be watching over you to have such warriors set up a sanctuary for you here.”

“Why were my father’s guards killed?” Her voice faltered.

“Because they were spies. I don’t blame you for not believing your rescuers.” He stopped by the entrance to the sacred prayer room, another false front in his hold. Sabin put his finger to his lips and leaned closer. “From this moment on, I can’t speak. If you need anything, tell a monk. What we’re able to provide, we will. But be warned, we live simple lives, and so do those staying among us.” He pushed open the large metal doors and stepped through. His bride didn’t move.

Sabin gave her hand a little tug, but she yanked it free.

He didn’t have time for such nonsense. He snapped his fingers, and one of his men dressed as a monk appeared. The woman couldn’t escape. And she was too weak to best any of his people. In the end, she was good and stuck.

He pointed at her, then the direction of the hallway with the wing where guests stayed.

His man nodded, so Sabin turned and headed inside. Her actions over the next few weeks would tell him exactly what sort of wife she’d be.

Kahli crumbled Father’s letter in her hands and chucked it at a corner of the carriage. A monastery. How absurd. No wonder Dalda hadn’t given her the letter until the last possible moment—five days after they left Troubled Mountain.

She glared at the new supposed lady-in-waiting across from her. Lady-in-waiting her foot. When Kahli made a break for it the first day to return home and get some answers, the woman tackled her and drew a knife. Not something a proper lady-in-waiting would’ve done, but an uneducated barbarian.

“Now, now, your father’s only doing this for your safety. I’m to go over the rules with you again.”

The rules. Curse the rules. She didn’t need to hear them again. Because the moment the guards and the lady left to return home, Kahli would, too.

She adjusted the coarse head covering and straightened the matching fabric over her face. It didn’t make sense why she had to wear it. Plain clothing would’ve sufficed.

“You’re to remain in the heart of the monastery and live alongside the monks. No speaking. And never, ever uncover your face.”

She never had removed her face covering. Not in front of anyone. Not since she was three. It was annoying Dalda reiterated the message. Again. But since she did, it’d be nice to have a solid reason. “Why?”

The lady cracked her knuckles, the obnoxious sound loud in Kahli’s ears. “That’s enough. Act the lady you were raised to be.”

It was a monastery. No one would look at her. The warning was unneeded on various levels.

“As far as anyone will be concerned, you’re mute and disfigured. Stick with the activities listed, do as you’re told, and we’ll retrieve you once we know you’re safe.”

Again, with the repetitive commands.

She pursed her lips. “I can help find her. Take me back.”

“No. Don’t ask again or I’ll have the monks make you suffer.”

Ugh, the woman was so infuriating. Father would never stand for such behavior.

If the woman did as she threatened, then Kahli would send word back to her family—a secret message meaning the woman harassed her. Her mother was a princess. As the granddaughter of an emperor from a powerful nation, no one messed with Kahli and got away with it. Father would see to it the woman was beheaded.