Scimitar War Read Online Free PDF

its wielder did not let go. He pulled hard, and his companion did likewise. She tried to break the other pole, but it flexed. The man with the knife in his gut was rising, and she lunged for him, but they wrenched her back, jerking her off her feet. She tried to break the pole again, but her blows were getting weaker as the nooses cut off the blood to her brain.
    Gray darkened to black as she clawed at the leather nooses around her throat, but she couldn’t wedge her fingers under them. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and then she couldn’t do anything at all.
    ≈
    “Not much left,” Camilla murmured as she surveyed her few remaining worldly possessions. This was only the second time she had been back to her rooms since her rescue from Hydra’s lair. The first time, dismay had overwhelmed her at the sight of the pillaged chamber, and she fled, weeping, into Emil’s arms.
    Emil’s arms…
    The thought sent a shiver of longing up her spine, and she wrapped her arms around herself. It had been four days since her rescue, four days of living in his rooms, sharing his bed, finding solace in his warmth. She felt whole again in his company. But lately, she had felt somehow wrong , like she was a stranger inside her own skin.
    The murder might explain her unease, her visions of blood and death. Emil insisted that her feelings were the normal aftermath of her ordeal. He’s right, of course , she thought as she entered and shut the door behind her, I’m sure of it .
    Her rooms were less of a shambles than most had been after the pirates pillaged the keep; the furniture was intact and, in the bedroom, the bed still had a mattress and coverlet. Even so, everything of value was gone. She had packed all of her finest clothing and toiletries in the trunk that had gone with Parek; her wardrobe stood empty save for one unfinished dress and a few old pettiskirts. Her dresses had always been her great indulgence, made by her own hands, her own designs. Now, she had exactly two. The deep-red dress she currently wore was clean but showing signs of wear, not surprising since she had worn it since the day she had secreted herself in the dungeon. The other, deep russet in color with a satiny sheen and a plunging neckline, hung in the wardrobe unfinished.
    “Well, I can deal with that as long as my sewing kit is still here…” Camilla went to her dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer, smiling as she found the mahogany box that contained all her sewing supplies untouched. She put the box on the bed and took the russet gown from wardrobe, spreading it out and assessing what needed to be done. Hemming, lace or filigree for the neckline, some lacing and loops… About twenty hours of work and it would be fit to wear.
    She sighed…twenty hours of respite, her mind and hands occupied in a soothing, meditative task.
    “Perfect.”
    She sat tailor fashion on the bed, placed her sewing box in front of her and lifted the lid. The top tray held her needles, threads, buttons and loops in neat cubbies. She selected a spool and a needle, stripped off a length of thread, knotted the end and threaded the needle with practiced ease. A faint scent tickled her nostrils, not unpleasant really, rather like overripe fruit or faint honeysuckle. Of course, there was an entire jungle outside her balcony, and something was always in bloom. She breathed deeply, the scent familiar but evasive.
    Lifting out the tray to search for a piece of lace, she started in surprise. Instead of the lace, brocade and lining fabric that she kept stored here, the compartment was packed with white linen.
    “What the…” She didn’t remember putting any linen in here. She put the tray aside and lifted the crumpled fabric, holding her hands high to see what it was.
    Blood…
    The sewing box crashed to the floor as Camilla flung the bloodstained garment away and skittered backward. She tumbled off the bed, landing hard, panic surging in her veins. She lurched up and