“My leg doesn’t hurt, but I think I’m bleeding.” Mestyla twists her palm in my direction, displaying the crimson shine on her long fingers.
My heart misses a beat. “The ichor in your veins is black now, so that’s not yours.”
Vance glances over his shoulder. “Must be Faerie blood.”
I press my knuckles against my trembling lips.Please let it be Ksenia’s. Please.
Khráach, what did the niece have to say?
I’m about to morph to smoke to fill my father in when shrill squawking rings out across the land.
“Isla, make yourself invisible in case we need to run,” Vance hisses, already painting himself with the sigil.
Since we stand on the same sleigh, both Mestyla and I wink out of existence. I tremble so hard that my finger skids repeatedly. I can’t tell if the blood has sunk in. I start sketching the symbol once more but freeze, as the shouting grows more distinct. And then I squint because a moving shadow materializes against the pall—huge and dark like a colossus.
As it approaches, it gains color and texture, and I realize it’s not some forest demon but a Fae whose dimensions are enhanced by an armor of fat, leafy branches. The person’s foot must catch on the invisible sleigh blade because they trip and flail forward, their enchanted shield shimmering as it rearranges itself to buffet their fall.
“Blasted bargain,” the Faerie mutters, shoving up.
Though the ambient world is dark and white, the glow coming off the castle licks up the newcomer’s face and fiery mane—Sofiya.
She curses as she gets to her feet, dusting snow off her heavy emerald cape, then limps toward the glass atrium. “Open the bloody door right this bloody minute!”
I wait with bated breath to see if someonewillopen.
“By all means, take your time.” She snarls when a hailstone knocks into her timber exoskeleton. “It’s not like ice projectiles are falling from the heavens.” She bangs on the glass. “Hello? Where the underworld is everyone?”
“The castle’s under siege,” I say.
Her shoulders jolt together, and then she’s spinning around, palms held aloft and crackling with more magic. “Who’s there?”
“Isla.”
“Where?”
“Nearby.”
Her head swivels left and right. “Show yourself!”
“Why don’t you put your hands down and tell me why you came to the capital?”
She snorts. “I’m only telling Konstantin.”
“Did Milana send you?”
“Why would my sister send—” She snaps her mouth shut. I expect it’s because some rebel is coming upstairs to grant her access, when she adds, “I’m only talking with Konstantin.”
“He isn’t available at the moment.”
Her forehead furrows. “Tell him to make himself available, will you? Oh, wait, you can’t communicate with him.”
“You’re right. I can’t.”If only I could…
Her eyes go as large as snowballs. “I knew it!”
“If you know anything that can help me save him, please tell me.”
She pales. “…Save him?”
