Petra of the Shazastar is a thief on the run from an unforgettable past. But, like all thieves, her luck cannot last forever. When she is caught, she's given a choice: either face execution or become the fortune teller to the Mad Queen.
Not surpri...
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I AM SURPRISED -ALTHOUGH GRATEFUL-to see that I am not taken to the dungeon beneath the palazzo. Instead, I am thrown into a small dark room, illuminated by a dim lantern on a desk. The guards leave me un-cuffed, but I still feel trapped; I feel the walls closing in on me, folding into me, burying me under pounds of rubble. My breathing constricts and my heart races. I grasp the table for balance as my vision darkens.
Calm down, Petra. I close my eyes. Calm down. Breathe in and out. In and out. Slowly I regain composure of myself. The door! I lift the latch and gasp out of relief for it is unlocked. I swing it open and step into the dark -
Only to collide with a wall of muscle.
"I - uh, signore. I most definitely was not trying to escape," I say, sheepishly hoping that the man has a sense of humor.
"Of course not," he says, then closes the door softly behind him. "You wouldn't get very far."
Out of shock, I step back a few paces and curse myself under my breath, for he is no ordinary guard, he is their captain. Giovanni de Luca is much taller in person and his height makes the room even smaller. I feel my dizziness slowly returning and instinctively ball my fists in an attempt to stay standing.
"You don't suppose we can have this talk outside, signore?" I try to not sway from the effort of not collapsing. It does not help that I can feel Giovanni's eyes, as sharp and gray as new steel, roam over my body, but unlike the many men before him, it is not a look fueled with desire. His calculating gaze disregards me and moves to the chair across the desk. He nods to the other, but I cannot move.
The room is too small and despite my efforts to keep calm I no longer can fight the blackness that inks through my vision. I fall to my knees, giving myself to the darkness that surrounds me, but before I am completely blind, I notice a pair of stormy curious eyes and Giovanni de Luca reaching out to catch me.
I come-to to the feel of strong arms and the faint smell of spice. I am moving and can hear birds and the gentle bubbling of a brook. Am I outside? A soft flittering Florentian breeze answers me and I curl in deeper to the warmth of the muscled chest carrying me.
But just as abruptly I stop moving and I hit the ground with a back shattering crack. My eyes snap open and I yell in pain and in shock, "Why! You have probably broken my back!"
At first I do not realize who I am reprimanding, until the steely gray eyes come into focus.
