Sofiya’s eyes bulge as she stares at the underbed space. “They can see me,” she hisses, clapping my wrist to fade back out of sight.
Focá.I haul my Faerie charge up and over my shoulder, then pounce to my feet. Another crack, followed by the splintering of wood as the bullet destined for Sofiya’s head embeds itself in the bed’s baseboard.
I lunge forward, past the rollaway table set with the relics of the meal I shared with Konstantin. A meal that feels like it took place a month ago. The rebels must spot the drips of her blood on my carpet, because the bullets whiz around us like livid sprites.
One catches on the carafe of Faerie wine; another on the mirror of my vanity. Both shatter into a million shards. If only I could gather the glass shrapnel on a gust of air and launch it at the two asshole rebels.
Although it can’t take more than a second, it feels like an eternity before I reach the narrow corridor that leads to my walk-in closet. Sucking down air like a drowning human rescuedfrom the ocean, I whip through the doorway, coming to a screeching halt.
Crouched before my safe is another round-eared soldier.
47
ISLA
If I set Sofiya down, she’ll reappear, so I reach into my coat pocket for Ksenia’s dagger, which suddenly feels heavier than the woman draped over my shoulder.
Sofiya must’ve spotted the intruder because she’s gone rigid and stopped whimpering. Out of nowhere, a burst of ochre powder materializes between us and the soldier.
“Die!” Sofiya’s war cry startles the interloper, who pitches backward.
Though he rams his forearm against his mouth and nose, I catch sight of his face through the dense puff. “No! Sofiya, no! Recall your magic! He’s a friend!”
The suspended flecks immobilize before winking out of existence, leaving behind the odd aroma of mulled wine at Yuletide.
“Isles?” Elio croaks between a wheeze and a cough. “Wha—” Another cough. “What was that?”
“Powdered rowan wood bark.” Sofiya’s chest is pumping hard and fast again against my shoulder. “A spoonful in the lungs, and humans choke to death.”
“Thank the Cauldron”—Elio pounds his fist against his rattling chest, his throat spasming as he fights to wring oxygen from the air—“I’m not human.”
I walk her over to my velour pouf and lay her down.
When she reappears, she’s staring steadily at Elio. “You’re that half-blood.”
One of his eyebrows ticks up. “Thathalf-blood?”
“The one I thought was a Crow because of the face tattoo.” She heaves in a deep breath, forehead tilled with furrows of pain. After an arduous exhale, she blurts out, “But then my sister explained that lots of non-shifters”—she groans, shuts her eyes—“get their faces inked in Luce in order to avoid getting snacked on by Crows.”
Surprise rocks Elio so hard that it silences his coughing.
Used to Sofiya’s brand of nonsense, I deadpan, “Definitely simplifies picking out our victims.”
Elio snorts, and then he huffs out a chuckle that transforms into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Given the night this has been…that itstillis, the merry sound seems out of place, nevertheless, it pares away some of the dread and rage shrouding my heart.
“El, meet Sofiya. Sofiya, meet one of my best friends, Elio.”
She hikes up her pert nose. “What’s so funny, Half-blood?”
Goddess, this woman…Why did I offer her a lift to my suite again?
Instead of setting her straight on Crow snacking-habits, I ask Elio, “How did you get here? And where are the others?”
He sobers. “We heard explosions when I was visiting the castle’s art gallery with Izolda. She forced me through a secret passageway. I thought she was following me, but when I turned around, the passage was sealed, and she wasn’t…” He sinks a hand into his black curls. “I don’t know what happened to her, Isles. I didn’t want to leave her.”
“I know.” The areas his laughter had cleared around my heart cloud with ugly feelings anew.
“Anyway, I remembered your bedroom was warded, so I jumped one of the guards and nicked his stolen uniform. All of them are rebels, by the way. None are in Konstantin’s employ.”
