Jeweled by Anya Bast Read Free Book Online

candlestick and he fell to the floor, head bleeding. Another man grabbed her arm, but one of the guards—a few of them still fighting futilely for control of the place—put a sword through his stomach.
    They burst out of the palace and into the winter cold gardens. The sunlight blinded her. Even here there was chaos, bloodshed, and violence. It seemed so at odds with the manicured foliage and neat pebbled pathways. All she wanted was to get away.
    Now running blindly, her impractical shoes long gone, she plunged through a hedge behind Anatol. She had no idea where she was—visiting the palace gardens had never been high on her list of things to do—so she followed Anatol, who seemed more than passingly familiar with the natural environment outside Belai’s walls.
    They finally lurched and stumbled past the gates of Belai and onto the backstreets of Milzyr. The rabble was busy rioting in the streets.
    Lady Alyssa’s beautiful ebony and silver carriage had been tipped over on the cobblestone, the horses gone. Blood made a dark brown smear on the street leading away from the door.
    The rioters threw rocks at the storefronts of the high quality dress shops and hatmakers, making off with the items within. A man was pulling off the gown of a noblewoman half a block away, cackling loudly while she screamed.
    Evangeline had long ago made sure all her emotional walls were firmly up. She wanted no part of what had to be emotional chaos—not even in the detached, diluted way she sensed other people’s feelings. Even so, this was complete anarchy and it nearly cut through all the numbness that had shielded her since childhood.
    For the first time in a long time, she felt the faint stirring of fear trying to push its way through to her. Her own fear . Thick. Cold. Cloying.
    “Come on,” Anatol growled.
    She glanced at him, realizing she’d stilled in the street, staring at the cut leather of the reins that had been used to control the four gorgeous bays of Lady Alyssa’s carriage.
    His hands closed over her arm and pulled. “I swear I’ll knock you out and throw you over my shoulder if you don’t move. You’re going to get us caught.”
    She looked up to see a burly, redheaded farmer take note of them, gesture to a gaggle of blood-smeared men, and then point. Acutely aware of her fine dress, healthy fall of sunlight-colored hair, and creamy, unblemished skin—all of it marked her as “enemy”—she moved, running with Anatol into the shadows of the alley.
    “We need to change our clothing,” Anatol said, running down the cobblestone beside her. “We need to try and blend in with people if we’re going to survive.”
    “You mean, act and dress like a commoner?” She couldn’t keep the note of distaste out of her voice.
    He shook his head and muttered under his breath. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth. Do you know that, Evangeline?”
    She would have answered, but at that moment the mouth of the alley they were traveling down was blocked by a group of peasants, all of them men and all of them holding weapons.
    They came to a halt and both turned at once, only to see the other end similarly blocked. Her heart pounded. She couldn’t remember being forced to feel this much of her own emotion for a very long time—maybe not since she’d been a tiny child and had first come to Belai. It was distasteful and brought back bad memories she could only just catch the tails of.
    Anatol began looking around for a way into one of the buildings and she helped him. A staircase, a doorway, anything.
    Nothing .
    No escape.
    She cast a glance at Anatol, who didn’t look back. His hands fisted at his sides, he was staring down the pack of men approaching them as if he could defeat them with his thoughts alone. Which, if he used illusion, he could.
    She reached in and pulled a thread of her power, tasted the emotional currents that flowed around them. Anger. Hatred. Killing rage. Fear. There was nothing here for her to