Riddle of Fate by Tania Johansson Page A

corridor the guards had come from. He led her down countless corridors and hallways. They seemed to climb three stairways – she hadn’t even realised they were that far below ground level.
    They ran through a sitting room, lavish settees and divans dotted around the room. The door at the far end opened and Khaya barely stopped herself from gasping. Derrin plucked her to one side. The next moment, he'd flung open a large cupboard and was stuffing her into it. There was just enough space for her to sit with her legs pulled close up to her chest. He closed the door behind her. She was about to ask him why he wasn’t getting in as well when she remembered that no one else could see him.
    She leaned forward and peered through the keyhole. Two men walked in. She recognised one of them. “Sir,” Phalio said, “what can be so urgent? We are about to transfer Miss Pherela.”
    She was surprised that he was there in person. She would have thought that as high up as he was in the Company, he would be able to opt out of the more distasteful parts of what they did. Khaya hardly dared breathe. Her heart pounded and she wondered how they failed to hear it.
    A man with bushy grey hair ran a hand through his unkempt beard. “I have been informed by one of my officers that you plan to, um, execute this girl,” he said.
    “Yes,” Phalio said.
    “She hasn’t stood trial yet,” the grey-haired man said.
    “She is guilty,” Phalio said. “You know what organisation sent me. Why are you questioning this?”
    “I feel she should at least face a fair trial. If she is guilty as you say, she will be sentenced appropriately, but this doesn’t sit well with me. Your… organisation has never before requested a prisoner before sentencing.”
    “This isn’t a normal situation. Don’t let her youth or beauty blind you. She murdered a man. Her mind is unravelling. You read my report. She sees people who aren’t there. We have witness statements –”
    “Even so –” the man interrupted, but Phalio’s eyes narrowed, a barely concealed fire burning behind them.
    “This is not a discussion. I did you a courtesy by explaining. You should know better than to interrupt an Official.” Phalio thundered. He cleared his throat and straightened his jacket. “Now,” he continued, voice low, “prepare Miss Pherela for transport. I will expect her to be in the carriage in ten minutes.”
    The grey-haired man bowed and hurried from the room. Phalio watched him go, a scowl wrinkling his face. He muttered a curse under his breath before turning on his heel and leaving the room. Derrin pulled the cupboard door open and Khaya barely caught herself from spilling onto the floor.
    He put a steadying hand on her arm. “We need to get out of here,” he said, face calm.
    Khaya nodded, glancing at the door, half-expecting Phalio to walk back in and catch her. Derrin gestured with his head and she followed him out through the door by which Phalio had entered.
    As soon as they were through the door, Derrin slowed to a walk. “Why are we walking?” Khaya whispered, fighting the urge to push him to go quicker.
    Derrin pointed to the windows that lined the hallway. Outside, two guards, ambled along, swords hanging from their hips. They were talking and laughing, but they had the look of readiness about them. No doubt they were more alert than their casual appearance would have you believe.
    “If you run, they will notice. The alarm will be raised, and you will be captured. Walking gives the impression of being calm, composed and entitled to be where you are.”
    The urge to run was like a prickle down Khaya’s back. It soon became an itch and she had to fight to calm herself enough to keep at a reasonable pace. All she wanted to do was break in to a full tilt run. Her stomach lurched when a guard outside turned and looked directly at her. She took a deep breath and kept walking. She watched him from the corner of her eye until he turned away again,