You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
Chapter Twenty-Three<br />
The Halls of the Gentlemen’s Enclave<br />
9:20 PM<br />
An angry twelve year old girl in a burlap sack is not a particularly easy thing to carry. When<br />
Gregor had practiced the choreography of the abduction, Vlad had played the role of the grand<br />
duchess and through repetition, Gregor had become quite confident in his ability to throw the sack<br />
over the head of his victim, then turn and hoist her to his shoulder.<br />
But of course Vlad had remained cooperatively still and the real-life duchess was kicking,<br />
squirming, twisting, and doing everything in her power to express her profound displeasure with this<br />
turn of events. He had gotten her down the main hall – which had been cleared of all traffic by the<br />
order of Filip – and into the more obscure passages leading to the enclave, but it had been a struggle<br />
and he was already tiring with the effort. Xenia was emitting a seemingly never ending series of<br />
yelps and squeals which were muffled by the thick cloth but still entirely too audible for his liking.<br />
Gregor could only pray that they would not encounter anyone else along the hallway.<br />
And then, of course, there was that business about the man chasing him.<br />
This was not supposed to happen. The enclaves behind the sets had been precisely as Yulian<br />
had described them and Xenia had been waiting to enter the dance floor where predicted. The music<br />
was loud, the room was crowded, and all had been going according to plan. Yulian had told them to<br />
expect few guards within the theater, at least not during rehearsals, and had said that if Xenia was to<br />
be found with any man in attendance, it would most likely be her dance master. Vlad had done an<br />
admirable job of taking that fop off his feet, but then, out of nowhere, descending down a flight of<br />
stairs like some vengeful god, had come an entirely different fellow. No, not at all part of the plan.<br />
And now the fat fool was chasing Gregor and shouting in English.<br />
Gregor knew he held advantages in the areas of youth, athletic prowess, and of course the fact<br />
he knew where they were going. But none of his bobs and weaves had so far fooled the fellow, who<br />
seemed, in fact, to be gaining on them. His gasping and rasping were becoming louder, and Gregor<br />
found himself stumbling as the Grand Duchess – who was frankly far less ladylike than one would
Change language