Free Assassin's Gambit: The Hearts and Thrones Series by Amy Raby Page A

him in the face with his fist, once, twice, three times. Vitala winced with each blow. Lucien’s breath was ragged. She could sense his fear, but he did not give his attackers the satisfaction of crying out.
    “You horse fucker,” snarled Remus. He turned back to his men. “Is Eustace dead?”
    Someone laid a hand on the throat of the man who’d been shot. “Yes.”
    “He’s naked,” said a voice she didn’t recognize. “Is there a woman?”
    “Check under the bed,” said Remus.
    Vitala froze in terror.
Pox, pox, pox.
Two faces appeared below the edge of the bed and aimed pistols at her. “There is.”
    “Drag her out,” said Remus.
    Her hands itched to call a Shard. The men were putting their pistols away; they didn’t expect her to fight. She could kill one man, maybe two, but all five? No. She hadn’t a chance.
    Two of the men grabbed her arms and hauled her out. One of them took the wooden leg from her. Among the traitors, she recognized only Remus and the Warder, but all of them wore Legaciatti uniforms.
    The men stared at her naked form, and one of them gave an appreciative whistle.
    Remus’s mouth twisted in disapproval. “It’s the Caturanga player.”
    “Let her go,” choked Lucien, who was still on the floor, held down by two men and bleeding from his nose, his mouth, and his good leg. “This isn’t her quarrel.”
    “She’s a witness,” said Remus. “Kill her.”
    Not a man made a move, even the ones holding her.
    “We could fuck her first,” said the Warder.
    Remus gave Vitala a second, more appraising look. “I suppose. Someone has to stay with the riftstone, anyway. Make sure no one runs off with it.”
    “First watch,” called two men simultaneously.
    “
I’m
first, you culls,” growled Remus. “Tie her up. Ankles together, wrists to the bedposts.”
    The men holding her pulled lengths of rope from their belts, shoved her onto the bed, and began to tie her up. She tensed the muscles in her wrists and ankles in hopes of getting a tiny bit of slack into the knots.
    “Here it is,” said Remus.
    Vitala twisted her head around to see. Remus had found the folded loros and was holding it reverently to his chest. Was he claiming the throne for himself?
    Remus strode to Lucien and leaned down. He grabbed the topaz riftstone that hung around his neck and yanked it away, breaking the chain. “Get him out of range of his riftstone,” he ordered. “I’ll stay with the Caturanga whore. Send someone to relieve me in half an hour.”
    “That long?” teased one of the men.
    Remus gave them a thin-lipped smile. “Go.”
    One of the men took a length of rope, fitted it into a noose, and looped the noose around Lucien’s neck. “On your feet, half man.” He jerked cruelly at the rope.
    Lucien rose to hands and knees and reached for his crutch.
    Remus knocked it away with his foot, and the soldier who was carrying the leg picked it up.
    “I can’t—” began Lucien.
    Remus kicked him viciously, eliciting a gasp of pain. “Move, Emperor!”
    Lucien crawled toward the tent flap, leaving a smear of blood in his trail. One soldier tugged him by the noose while the others surrounded him, laughing and jeering and urging him on with well-placed kicks.
    Vitala’s heart ached for Lucien. Apparently killing him wasn’t enough; they meant to humiliate him too. How unprofessional.
    The soldiers left the tent, tugging their unhappy prisoner. Only Remus remained. He laid the loros on the table and began to unbelt his syrtos.
    She taunted him with her eyes.
Come on and fuck me, Remus. I’m ready for you.

7
    V itala watched closely as Remus set aside his double belts along with his sword, knife, and pistol. She hoped he would bare his chest and give her a glimpse of his riftstone. If it was anything but the topaz of a war mage, she could kill him before the sex and save herself some unpleasantness.
    But he seemed to have no intention of doing so. He loosened his syrtos but did not remove it.