Chapter 6 - The Inquisitor’s Trap
The heavy oak doors swung open, but it wasn't the Grand Inquisitor who stepped into the dim light of the enclosure.
It was Lord Ashby himself.
Dressed in a pristine velvet tunic embroidered with gold thread that starkly contrasted with the mud and blood of the yard, the aging lord wore a cool, unbothered smile. Flanking him were four members of the elite Citadel Guard, their heavy halberds gleaming menacingly in the torchlight.
“Commander Cassian,” Ashby said smoothly, his eyes sweeping over Vesper with undisguised contempt. “And our local healer. How charming. Playing nursemaid to a beast that has already mauled a dozen of our finest men.”
Cassian stepped smoothly in front of Sorcha, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. “You’re trespassing in a restricted military enclosure, Ashby.”
“Am I?” Ashby raised a thin eyebrow, gesturing vaguely to the guards behind him. “The High Council has just issued an amended decree. In light of last night’s poisoning incident—which, I might add, nearly destroyed valuable Crown property—the council has granted me temporary oversight of this beast.”
Sorcha’s blood ran cold. “You poisoned him! We have the ledger, Ashby. We have your name, your receipts, and your orders!”
Ashby chuckled, a dry, papery sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “A ledger? My dear girl, ink on paper can be forged by any disgruntled clerk or ambitious healer looking to shield a monster. But the law is quite clear. A dragon that repeatedly attacks its handlers and consumes foreign toxins under suspicious circumstances is deemed a bio-hazard.”
He stepped closer, his smile vanishing, replaced by a cold, predatory gleam.
“Seize the records. And put the beast down immediately.”
The four guards surged forward, lowering their halberds as they advanced toward Vesper’s alcove.
“Touch him and you die where you stand,” Cassian snarled, drawing his blade with a ring of cold steel.
May you like
Sorcha didn’t hesitate. She threw herself sideways, scooping up the bundle of ledgers from the crate just as a guard lunged toward her. But numbers and paper wouldn’t stop a blade. The situation was
spiraling out of control, and the trap had slammed shut around them.
