Children Of The Sky (The Scripts Of Neptune, Book 2)

Chapter 7

It was quiet and dark when Lillian slipped into her rooms, the windows still open, a balmy evening breeze teasing the windchimes she'd hung from the curtain rod and filling the room with the soft sound of metal on the stone that swung in the center. She shut the drawer in her wardrobe on her way to the bed; she hadn't bothered after Nyle left. She'd sat on her bed a few minutes, making sure he was gone. Then she'd fled to the grasses.

Lillian hesitated to light a lamp. The darkness was soothing, somehow, while the light forced her to face her reflection in the mirror. Reality. The emptiness in the eyes that she'd had more and more trouble meeting lately whenever she brushed her hair or dressed. Even before today, she'd caught herself slipping into a familiar rhythm of her old darkness. Her sadness and her grief. She'd held on to them so long she wasn't sure how to let go. Rejecting Nyle had been a catalyst. Defense on her part, in a way, but also the need to feed an addiction she hadn't bothered to recognize until after she talked with Lacey.

She thrived on pain.

And she realized how lonely she was.

They were connected, in her mind. Her need to keep things changing, to keep getting hurt, and her loneliness. The strange thing was, it hadn't really been there when she'd been with the others. Almost like...there'd been enough change, just enough, to keep that chaotic side satisfied. The drama that came naturally with friendships had provided balance. And maybe that was normal. But Sam had died. Chad and Crynia had left. Nyle had become distant, and though Lacey and Paleo were close, it wasn't the same. The part of her that yearned for the emotion of companionship starved and reduced itself to being destructive.

Running a hand through her hair, Lillian dropped the key to her room on her wardrobe and sighed. What was done was done. Lacey was right. She needed to take a step back and organize herself before tackling her current situation. There was far too much going on to sort through tonight, anyway.

It took a few tries to light the match. When Lillian finally managed, she hooked her finger in the ring of her lamp and set the wick alight. With weary eyes, she glanced up to look at her reflection--and froze.

There were men in her room. Four of them, all wearing masks and dark clothing, pressed into shadowed corners. Without the lamp, they'd been practically invisible.

Whirling, Lillian pressed herself back against her wardrobe, cursing as she yanked open a drawer and fished around for a dagger she'd stuck there for emergencies like this one. As close as she was to the prince, it gave her peace of mind, knowing she had a way to defend herself should someone come for her.

Well, technically fifteen ways, depending on where she was in the room, but that was beside the point.

Paling, Lillian risked a look down when her search was fruitless. There was no dagger. They must've found it. Cursing again as one of the men stepped out of his shadow, she retreated to the opposite side of the bed, this time hoping to dart for the broadsword stashed beneath her mattress.

"We aren't stupid," the man who'd stepped forward said, sounding faintly amused. "It isn't there. None of them are; we cleaned you out. Might as well stop looking."

"Who are you?" she breathed, backing toward the door, hating the fear in her voice.

"No one of consequence," the man replied, jerking his head and glancing behind her. Too late, Lillian spun. A fifth man, standing in front of the door, latched onto her arm and twisted cruelly before slamming her against the wall. Quicker than she could fight, he had a rope wrapped around her wrists. She groaned, chastising herself. She'd put off too many training days.

Scream! some rational corner of her brain demanded. So she did. Throwing herself back against her captor, she screamed as loud as she could, using the surprise to catch the man holding her off guard and kick him in the shin. He swore and shoved her against the wall again when she made to elbow him, pulling something from his belt and hissing a command at one of his companions.