But no one flinches harder than my sister. “Wh-what…?”
“Your ex-boyfriend. Is. Dead,” he repeats, hammering each word.
My sister sucks in her cheeks and whirls those large eyes of hers in my direction. “You killed him, Kostya?”
“No. My bargain didn’t end his life.”
“Did your sword?” Her missing teeth warp her voice but not her livid tone.
I find it comforting that she cares. “No. Bohdan’s did.” Though still only speculation, I want to see what reaction she’ll have.
Her cheeks fill out. “Bohdi would never…”
“Why wouldBohdinever?” I parrot.
“Because helovedhis son.”
“Didn’t you care about your niece?” Isla asks.
“All I felt for that girl was pity.” Is Ksenia still under the influence of salt, or has it lost its effect?
“Do you hate shifters?” I ask to test the possibility that the truth serum has waned.
“Yes. They’re our natural predator.”
“Glad I needn’t take your contempt personally,” Aodhan says. “Now, shall we go see what you’ve done to a person you didnothate but feltpityfor?”
It’s only once we start up the stairs that I note Isla’s state of undress. “A coat! Someone bring my wife a coat!”
“Wife?” Ksenia lisps.
My misstep makes me stiffen.
I’m about to apologize to Isla when she squeezes my clammy hand. “Don’t worry, Ksenia. You didn’t miss the wedding. We’re just waiting on my family to arrive. They’re on their way over, actually.”
Is it me or does my sister twitch at the news? Then again, she loathes shifters on such a profound level that she surely abhors the idea of sharing air with more of them. Not that she will see much of them from the underground cell I intend to lock her in until she’s ready to broaden her narrow mind.
“Here you go, Vizosh.” A guard proffers two sky-blue coats lined with fur.
I drape one across Isla’s shoulders and button the collar, then stab my arms through the other but freeze midsleeve.
The prophecy has played out.
Isla’s free to depart. Will she?
42
KONSTANTIN
Though a woman is dead on my hills and we aren’t alone, I grip the standing collar of Isla’s borrowed coat. My desperation to keep her at my side takes the shape of a harsh kiss, one that’s as brutal as it is fleeting. When I pull away, Isla’s stare glitters with confusion.
I cut my eyes to the top of the stairs, wrap an arm around her waist, then guide her up to the vestibule whose glass ceiling is already lifted. The instant we step out into the glacial evening, Aodhan shifts. He doesn’t soar toward the hill, though. He treads the air over our heads, as though worried the two sleigh drivers and Ksenia will abduct us.
For a heartbeat, I give this theory room to grow. After all, my sister didn’t truly put up any protest in revisiting the crime scene. I shake off my gnawing paranoia. Under salt oath, she admitted not wanting to harm me. Still, as we crest the hill, I remain on my guard, my magic tingling my fingertips, ready to pour out.
When the sleigh begins to slow, the rise and fall of Isla’s rib cage quickens beneath my splayed fingers. She pulls away from me and squints past my sister’s head, past the air-Fae driverat the helm. I spot Vance before I spot the body. Probably because the woman sprawled at their feet is as pale as my wintry kingdom. If it weren’t for the scarlet stain on her white dress and the macabre hue of the snow espousing her body, Mestyla would’ve vanished into the landscape.
My lids twitch as Isla disembarks from the sleigh. The first and only glance I had of my niece atOloho Samovhad been so brief that I’d failed to spot a resemblance to her mother. Would I see one tonight? Would I see Alyona? Would I relive the haunting nightmare of her execution?
