man’s hand down her dress had left no doubt as to his intention. They should both be ashamed of themselves, and she would show them just what depravity cost them.
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking her or causing her shame. Her father had taught her strength in the face of any foe, including these fools.
Cadha halted and the man at her side tried to pull at her. She yanked the cord taut between where it was tied to her wrist, and where she held it with her hand. With a jerk, she pulled it around the man’s neck and kept pulling him up the stairs behind her, holding it so tight, he had to fight against her to get leverage.
His shoes were slipping on the stair and he finally called out as he struggled for purchase. The other man’s footfalls came up the stairs toward her. Once he was close enough, she anchored herself and let the cord go. She pushed him forward toward the other man’s huffing breaths, grabbed her skirt, and ran up the stairs, pulling at the blindfold. Below her, the men kept tumbling, and she hadn’t heard them land.
Her eyes stung in the low light and she tried to blink through the tears. Cadha ran as fast as she could up the long, inclined walkway. A commotion sounded in front of her and she saw two men running toward her. One of them was a soldier.
She stopped and tried to grab for the end of the cord again.
“Cadha!” the soldier called.
He pulled the tunic over his head and the long, flowing, golden hair of Valc Vanhorn greeted her. She released a long breath and sobbed out gusts of fetid air.
“Valc,” she wailed.
His arms were around her and his lips on hers. He took all her breath, but she no longer cared. She was with Valc. He’d come for her.
He kissed every inch of her face, repeating her name over and over like a prayer. “I thought I’d never find you.”
She tried to breathe through his attentions, but she found she didn’t care. He was here, he was with her. She could breathe later.
But the memory of her attackers drew her away. She pulled him to arm’s length. “The men, they’re behind me. I only knocked them down the stairs.”
“We can’t go back this way.” Valc stopped her when she tried to run past him. He took her hands and pulled at the knots binding her.
“We can’t go back toward those men. I don’t know where the passage leads.” She massaged her wrists.
“To the river,” said the man with Valc in heavily accented Dutch. He had a square-set jaw and dark eyes. He wore a cassock. A monk? Where had Valc found a monk? Or a monk’s clothing?
“It leads down to the river. I think there are multiple passages, though.” Valc glanced behind her, toward the stairs. “I see it jogs off in many directions.”
“So we might miss them?” Cadha let Valc take her under his arm and lead her back toward the stairs. She couldn’t hear the men making a commotion. Maybe they were dead.
“Do you remember which way you came up?” the monk asked.
“I didn’t know there was more than one way. It just seemed like I ran straight up the stairs and then straight up this hill.”
Valc tightened his grip around her waist. “We’ll take the center way, then.”
Only there were weren’t three passages, as he’d anticipated. Two at first, and then each of those broke into two, and then each of those had two sets of stairs. It would be impossible to guess which one contained the men she’d run from.
But it would also be unlikely they’d choose the very one that would lead her back to her captors.
Valc led her to the right, and then when the tunnels split, they went to the right again, and took the right set of stairs. This did not feel like the way she’d come up, and Cadha breathed a small sigh.
“These all go to the water?” she asked.
The monk shushed her and they quieted their footfalls. A loud commotion sounded in the upper passage behind them. Clattering, shuffling, yelling. It must have been the men she’d pushed. They were
She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of breaking her or causing her shame. Her father had taught her strength in the face of any foe, including these fools.
Cadha halted and the man at her side tried to pull at her. She yanked the cord taut between where it was tied to her wrist, and where she held it with her hand. With a jerk, she pulled it around the man’s neck and kept pulling him up the stairs behind her, holding it so tight, he had to fight against her to get leverage.
His shoes were slipping on the stair and he finally called out as he struggled for purchase. The other man’s footfalls came up the stairs toward her. Once he was close enough, she anchored herself and let the cord go. She pushed him forward toward the other man’s huffing breaths, grabbed her skirt, and ran up the stairs, pulling at the blindfold. Below her, the men kept tumbling, and she hadn’t heard them land.
Her eyes stung in the low light and she tried to blink through the tears. Cadha ran as fast as she could up the long, inclined walkway. A commotion sounded in front of her and she saw two men running toward her. One of them was a soldier.
She stopped and tried to grab for the end of the cord again.
“Cadha!” the soldier called.
He pulled the tunic over his head and the long, flowing, golden hair of Valc Vanhorn greeted her. She released a long breath and sobbed out gusts of fetid air.
“Valc,” she wailed.
His arms were around her and his lips on hers. He took all her breath, but she no longer cared. She was with Valc. He’d come for her.
He kissed every inch of her face, repeating her name over and over like a prayer. “I thought I’d never find you.”
She tried to breathe through his attentions, but she found she didn’t care. He was here, he was with her. She could breathe later.
But the memory of her attackers drew her away. She pulled him to arm’s length. “The men, they’re behind me. I only knocked them down the stairs.”
“We can’t go back this way.” Valc stopped her when she tried to run past him. He took her hands and pulled at the knots binding her.
“We can’t go back toward those men. I don’t know where the passage leads.” She massaged her wrists.
“To the river,” said the man with Valc in heavily accented Dutch. He had a square-set jaw and dark eyes. He wore a cassock. A monk? Where had Valc found a monk? Or a monk’s clothing?
“It leads down to the river. I think there are multiple passages, though.” Valc glanced behind her, toward the stairs. “I see it jogs off in many directions.”
“So we might miss them?” Cadha let Valc take her under his arm and lead her back toward the stairs. She couldn’t hear the men making a commotion. Maybe they were dead.
“Do you remember which way you came up?” the monk asked.
“I didn’t know there was more than one way. It just seemed like I ran straight up the stairs and then straight up this hill.”
Valc tightened his grip around her waist. “We’ll take the center way, then.”
Only there were weren’t three passages, as he’d anticipated. Two at first, and then each of those broke into two, and then each of those had two sets of stairs. It would be impossible to guess which one contained the men she’d run from.
But it would also be unlikely they’d choose the very one that would lead her back to her captors.
Valc led her to the right, and then when the tunnels split, they went to the right again, and took the right set of stairs. This did not feel like the way she’d come up, and Cadha breathed a small sigh.
“These all go to the water?” she asked.
The monk shushed her and they quieted their footfalls. A loud commotion sounded in the upper passage behind them. Clattering, shuffling, yelling. It must have been the men she’d pushed. They were
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