The blow flattens him against the blackened ground anew.
You just saved my life, Isla. You.NotVance.You.I clap Bohdan with a gust of wind to roll him onto his back. I want him to watch me end his life.
But first…
“This one’s for my brother-in-law.” I level my barrel with Bohdan’s crotch, sensing Aodhan would appreciate my target.
The fire-Faerie flings out his hands. Though his element gilds his palms, our bargain keeps it from touching me.
Vance is on the train?I ask Isla as I squeeze the trigger and rid the monster of his manhood.
The scream he releases is so shrill, I suspect it just might crack the windows.
Yes.Her feather-light reply is slow to come…laborious, as though it’s costing her energy to push the thought into my mind.
“How?” Zaslofsky chuffs, pants, sobs. “How?”
My upper lip hikes up. “How come my necklace is failing you? Because once removed, it loses its magic.”
His eyebrows bump up.
“Don’t beat yourself up. Only the Cauldron, Meriam, and Isla were aware of this.”
I press the barrel into his sweat-slickened forehead, right in between those peaked brows. “This last one’s for my mate.” Right before flexing my finger, I add, “May you be haunted in the underworld by all those you’ve wronged, Bohdan Zaslofsky.”
His skull explodes, drizzling viscous shards over the mass grave fanned around me—and probably onto my trouser legs. I can’t honestly seem to care.
Just in case the bullets weren’t made of iron, I fly the dagger into his chest with deadly precision, driving it clean through the cuirass. Even coated as they are in soot and blood, the diamonds on the handle gleam in the obscurity like cursed relics.
I’m about to turn around to check on Isla when a groan rises from the woman bound to the armchair.
The one who still wears my mate’s face.
The one whose betrayal cut so deep, it managed to nick the organ no weapon could breach as long as I wore my talisman.
I flick my fingers, dragging the necklace off the hunk of carrion at my feet and fly it over to my sister, gliding it slowly down her stunned face, slicking her skin with Bohdan’s blood.
Once the ornament has settled over her murky heart, I chirp, “Welcome back, Ksen.”
53
ISLA
Isidle down the wall to the melody and sight of Konstantin’s revenge.
Though the wagon is dark and the mirrored panels are crackled and filmed with ash, I see my mate in all his rancorous glory.
My mate.
I have a mate. The Cauldron’s seer spoke the truth.
Did I save him, Behati?
The grind of metal against metal grates my buzzing eardrums. Are we stopping? Are more rebels about to pour into the cabin?
I scoot my lashes as near my browbone as I can manage to stay alert just in case Konstantin needs me. The slow, steady march of unconsciousness broils my chest. I need to get the bullet out.
Using the blood pouring out of my shoulder, I slit through my coat and dress to reach skin.
