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

Chapter 16

Lillian woke in darkness. The air was cool, but not chilled, heavy and humid and lingering close to her skin. Her slow, soft breathing was all that broke the silence.

Groggy, she raised a hand and pressed it to her forehead, squeezing her eyes closed. Carefully, she sat up, leaning over and focusing her attention on her body, fishing for anything that hurt. Nothing. She was unharmed. Good.

Why does that matter...?

Why did it? Groaning, she rubbed her face, trying to recall what'd happened. She was in her bed, the spread soft beneath her, the smell of clean linen and oranges--

Oranges? No, that wasn't right. Her room smelled like...lavender. Lavender and herbs.

Her breath hitched, fingers curling in the bedding at her sides. The men. An almost-fight. A scream. The cloth. Darkness.

Where am I?

Mind still fuzzy, Lillian scooted until her legs hung off the edge of the bed, feeling her arms and legs. She was still wearing the same clothing, a plain tunic and trousers, but her boots were gone.

Upon feeling around beside her bed, she found a lamp on the nightstand, a small bundle of matches next to it. The light burned her eyes when she lit the lamp, shielding her face with her hand and looking around the room. It was large, too big for a single lamp to illuminate, but she recognized the carpet, the furniture, the painting on the wall. She'd been here before, tried to save her best friend and watched him nearly die in the bed she'd just risen from. She'd kissed a prince, threatened him the same day, and run from a betrothal she hadn't wanted.

Sitting heavily on the bed, Lillian put her head in her hands and pressed her eyes closed, taking a deep breath. Etniria. She was in Etniria.

He'll come for me.

That's the idea, love.

Her eyes snapped open, and she swore under her breath. Snatching the lamp, she strode across the room. She had to get out. She had to--

She stopped in her tracks when the lock clicked and the door opened, heart in her throat. Light spilled in from the hall. A masculine figure stepped in, silhouetted by the backlight and accompanied by a guard on either side. Her lamplight fell on black hair. Grey-blue eyes. A face that'd once been gentle, but was now stern, and a uniform that looked far too stiff for the man she'd met the year before. The man her father had given her hand in marriage to.

Michael.

***

Etniria was in ruins.

The patchwork of war-torn city had surprised Nyle when he arrived. Blackened shells of buildings littered the land in a ring around the walls--now pocked with holes and indentations--surrounding the castle. The color that'd been here before, the life...it was all gone. Burnt to a crisp by the fires of the Serpentine army and trampled under their heels. Anything not made of stone or hardy brick was little more than ash.

It crunched under his boots as he walked, bits of broken glass and dishes snapping as he cut through the charred imprint of a house. Something in the corner of his eye made him slow; a rat, gnawing on what looked like a blackened bone. Nyle shivered and moved on, not wanting to know if it was human or animal.

Inside the castle gates was better, by some measure. The people had gathered here to wait out the siege, bringing with them sturdy tents and as many keepsakes as they could. Even after six months, many of those tents still stood, housing families; work was slowly being done outside the walls to rebuild homes, and the fields were a ruddy green with near-ripe crops they'd grown with seed Nyle had sent as a peace offering, but the atmosphere of war still hung in the air like smoke. The siege had torn deep wounds here; the scars would not heal quickly.