I beg you, mo khráach…My father’s voice cracks like the sky above. Instead of spilling blinding light, though, it spills a heartrending plea.Wait for me.
But how can I, when my friends and lover are fighting for their life?
46
ISLA
Iglide back toward my window, since Konstantin’s is warded and won’t allow my shadows through.
Realization that I won’t wait must dawn on my father, because he murmurs,Report back as often as you can.
I will. And if you hear anything on your end, tell me immediately.
I land beside my window, then wait until my rider has tobogganed down my wing. When I hear anoomph, I melt into my shadows, then walk to the summit of the convex glass and call out to Sofiya to join me there.
Once she brushes against me, I shackle her arm. “I’m going to draw a sigil that’ll carry us through the glass. I’ll either have to draw another on the curtain, or the fabric will give under our combined weight and we’ll end up on my bed. Try not to shriek, all right?”
“I cannot believe I’m trusting a Crow,” Sofiya murmurs. “I cannot believe I just flew on one. I ca—Blasted hail!”
“Please be quiet.” I crouch, forcing her low, then dig my index finger against my earring and paint.
We drop onto my curtain. Sofiya yelps. I suppose penetrating matter is rather shocking the first time. The structure and fabric of the horizontal curtain must be made of extra tough material because we don’t drop. I paint a new sigil. Before my blood can sink too deeply into the weave, I flatten my palm against it.
We plunge onto my unmade bed, both expelling a tiny gasp, considering the height of the ceiling.
“What was that?” The masculine voice is so near that my heart misses a beat.
Could someone have managed to penetrate Taytah’s wards?
Sofiya sucks in a breath, then hisses, “You said?—”
I should’ve painted her lips shut. “Shh.”
“Somethin’ creaked in the princess’s chambers,” another masculine voice says.
Keeping ahold of Sofiya so she doesn’t wink back into existence, I turn my head toward the doorway. There, just beyond my threshold, stand two men gripping sleek, steel weapons, the barrels of which are trained on us.
I’ve never been gladder that my bed was so unkempt, for if the sheets had been crisp and stretched, they would’ve spotted us immediately. If only I could blow my bedroom door shut to impede their view of the room…
Sofiya must’ve noticed the men and their guns, because her pulse goes haywire beneath my fingers.
“Them linens! Look at ’em!” one of them growls through ochre teeth that throws me back to Svyato’s tavern. Could it be the same man, or is this some other human with poor dental hygiene? “Them moved!”
The men squint. One of them raises their weapon a tad higher. Can my wards block bullets? I decide not to find out and roll, shoving Sofiya off the bed.
As we smack into the rug, the sharp crack of gunfire detonates inside my ears alongside my careening pulse and Sofiya’s weeping.
“My leg,” she whimpers.
“What about it?” I murmur.
“Burns.”
I let her go just long enough to sweep my gaze over her body. Not only is her calf oozing a worrying amount of blood that reddens her white stockings, but there’s a puckered depression where flesh should be.
My insides go clammy. If the bullets can penetrate my chambers, what of the two trigger-happy dunces?
“Well, would ya look at that? We got one.”
