Page 94 of To Kill a King
She needed a break in the foliage. Something she could slip through where the larger, more muscular assassins wouldn’t be able to follow. Off to her right, a dark patch lurked at the base of two bushes.
Aliya smiled.
At least the woods cared what happened to her.
“Come on,” the woman said. “Pick her up. The sooner we’re out of here, the quicker we all get paid.”
Aliya took a deep breath.
Stephen gave an emphatic sigh. “Fine.”
Now.
She leapt up and lunged toward the break between the bushes. Her ankles jerked, refusing to move independently. She crashed face-first into the brambles.
“Ow.” Rolling onto her back, she glared at the thick rope bound around her legs. She’d been so focused on her wrists…
“Hey!” The larger shadow loomed over Aliya. Rough hands grabbed her shoulders and dragged her to her feet.
She scrunched her face and turned away, wrinkling her nose as Stephen’s rotten breath blew across her face.
His voice vibrated her teeth. “Try that again, Yer Majesty, and you’ll spend the trip back home high on milk of the poppy.”
Brooks laughed and waved a bottle of something in front of her face. “Won’t be able to run far then, will you?”
By the Seven Gods. She pinched her lips closed and swallowed hard as her stomach heaved.
“You wouldn’t.” The words rasped past her suddenly dry throat.
Fingers with well-manicured nails wrapped themselves in her hair and yanked her head back. “Addict you to poppy? Trust me, Your Majesty,” Annabelle said. “Stand between us and our gold, and we’ll do whatever it takes. Understand?” The cool pressure of steel pressed against her skin.
Aliya couldn’t nod without risking cutting her own neck open.
“Yes,” she whispered, as her gut plummeted to her toes.
“Excellent,” Brooks said, bending down and untying the rope around her ankles. “Since you’re awake, be a dear and follow old Stephen, here.” He stood and tied it to the manacles on her wrists before handing the line to the other man.
The female lowered her sword but kept the blade at her back.
Stephen tugged on the lead, pulling her down the path.
Aliya frowned. She was not some dog on a leash. But she couldn’t do anything unless the other woman relaxed her guard and put the weapon away.
They’d walked in silence for several minutes when Brooks called a halt at a small clearing. Stephen shoved her to the ground and retied her feet. She sat as her kidnappers went about setting up a camp. The inquisitor disappeared into the foliage, returning with an armful of branches he broke down into firewood.
You’re doing it wrong. She smiled and held back a vicious chuckle as Brooks struggled to light the green wood.
A silver canister, narrower than her wrist and half the length of her forearm, dangled from his belt. It banged against his leg for a few minutes while Aliya bit her lip. Pressure built until the words spilled out. “What’s a Whisperer?”
Brooks paused, staring between her and the metallic tube on his waist. Silence reigned, broken only by the squeal of Annabelle’s blade scraping over her whetstone.
“A Whisperer,” the woman said in a reverent voice, “is a magical marvel. When activated, it kills every person in hearing range.”
Stephen chortled. “Except Whisperers are silent. No one can hear them.”
Annabelle’s ivory teeth glinted in the dark.
Valek. Invisible bands wrapped around Aliya’s chest and squeezed. Annabelle wanted to trigger one near Filathas?