Blood Rite | | b o o k 3

2. tricked

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IMMORTAL CHRONICLES : BOOK TWO : attus sally

. . .

In the face of total disaster, Attus Sally could only sneer at it. He could endure the majority of it knowing that his wife was no longer a victim of his horrendous harem. He wished he still had his pistol—maybe then he could at least escape his bonds with the prospect of one bullet between Kazimir's eyes.

It was that same day Attus arrived at Kazimir's fortress with every intent of leaving with Miriem. He may not have had a horse, he may not have any supplies, and he may have lost Miriem's pup Oren, but he could endure anything to save her from the fate he thought was laid out for her. At once he saw Kazimir's concubines—the women with their shaven heads, their clothes transparent, and eyes the size of prying bugs—and wondered if Miriem was among them. She was not, and he thanked the gods every day afterwards that she wasn't there. She wasn't here.

The day Kazimir Dred forced Attus' head to the floor of his grand hall was the day he realized he stepped foot into a trap triggered by the girl he now loathed. Neox. She was the cause of all his suffering—Miriem never would have been kidnapped had it not been for that exotic Outsider girl. Attus never would have had to step foot in the Wastes had he left Neox for dead on that godforsaken island in the middle of the Amissa Ocean. She was the girl Kazimir wanted—not Miriem. And now Attus hadn't a clue as to where that wretched girl was. She was in Matalivens, that was certain, but Matalivens wasn't anywhere near the Southern Wastelands. The day Neox stepped foot into Kazimir's compound, Attus would be free.

The chances of that happening were slim.

Kazimir peeled his boot off of Attus' throat and snapped his fingers at his guard. Attus snarled at the man, but when he snatched a hand out to Kazimir's ankle, the guard's foot came down on it. "Radek, take him to the chamber pit," he ordered of the guard.

The moment Radek removed his foot, Attus pulled it to his chest and allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, and heaved to his feet by the straps of his snowy suspenders. Attus had his heated gaze on Kazimir all the way, following the man's heavy stature across the circular platform stationed at the head of the grand hall. When he turned and caught Attus' stare, he saw the absence of color in one of his eyes, and the bloody face of one of his own men in the other.

"Your people killed one of my men," Attus sneered at him, tugging at the hold Radek had on him, yanking his arms behind his back. "He's dead because of you!"

Kazimir stared down the length of his straight, sculpted nose and pierced Attus with those hooded eyes. He caught sight of the striking shade of emerald in his right eye as the light hit Kazimir's iris. "People die for a reason, Attus. It's why every living man lives for a reason. Call it fate, if you will—that man's life isn't in my hands," he said, and as he said it, he reached out his arm to his side. His concubine exited the shadows behind the hefty wooden column and took hold of his hand, letting him lead her away from Attus. They disappeared through the door opposite the one Radek and his guards dragged Attus into.

Attus pulled against the hands that restrained him, and forced him one way or the other with a gruff, "Turn here." or "Turn there." Eventually, they came upon common room, one centered with a vast ottoman large enough to seat dozens of people. The light was washed over in purples and reds—the veils of fine fabrics weaving across the ceiling and pooling against the floor, disguising the figures that stood behind them in silhouettes and shadows. He saw eyes staring at him, and slender fingers gripping the edges of the veils as they watched him.