“Coat,” Konstantin grits out.
Under my breath, I say, “Now that Aodhan’s here?—”
“Stay.” After a beat, he adds, “Please.”
A heartbeat later, fur-lined wool drops over my shoulders. Konstantin grips the lapel as I poke my arms through the sleeves. Once I’m buttoned up, he seizes the second jacket out of Aodhan’s outstretched hand.
“I’ve never seen Salom and Borat so panicked,” my fellow Crow says. “They’ve knocked on every door and peeped through every window in Voshna.”
And he thought no one would come looking for him…
“Why are they panicked? Did something happen while I was gone?” the Ice King asks.
Aodhan’s eyebrows slide low. “They’re panickedbecauseyou were gone. You should’ve seen their expressions when a guard found your clothes heaped behind the pirozhki stand. Salom lost decades off his life.” His brown gaze bounces between the two of us. “Look, I know you’re a private person, but any chance I couldlearn the reason why the two of you are dressed like doxies and prancing through the woods together?”
I grin. Konstantin does not.
“We weren’tprancing,” he mutters, before addressing the sprites and commanding them to find Salom and get the ship ready for an immediate return to the capital.
It’s only once we start walking, and faint voices emerge from Konstantin’s jacket pocket, that I remember the shot glass.
The soldiers keep enough distance between us that they don’t seem to hear the chatter, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by Aodhan, who asks, “Are you holding a sprite hostage in your pocket?”
Konstantin fists the fabric, muffling the babble. I understand why he does, even though I’d very much like to learn what’s being said.
“Let’s wait until we’re behind closed doors for that particular story,” he says.
Aodhan nods and leads the way toward the harbor which, thankfully, isn’t too much farther. There, we find a fuming general pacing the quay, and a sprite pacing the air above Salom’s disheveled blond mane.
Both must’ve been forewarned I’d be part of the jolly troop, for neither reacts to my presence. Once on the ship, I follow the men into a large cabin at the stern, which I assume must be the captain’s quarters since it holds a queen-sized bed, a large desk, and maritime charts.
“Perhaps Isla could soundproof the cabin with a sigil?” Aodhan suggests.
I snag my lip with my teeth as I contemplate the symbol I’ve never been able to reproduce. With my luck, it will remove the walls or sink the ship.
Konstantin snatches the clothes Salom has laid out on the bed and carries them behind a wooden folding screen. “Unnecessary. The walls are plenty thick.”
I doubt Konstantin refuted Aodhan’s suggestion for my sake, but I’m still immensely relieved. Judging by how closely Salom observes me, I think he senses it. I wonder what he makes of it.
The sharp sound of a seam ripping redirects the general’s attention. A moment later, the king steps out, garbed in his sky-bright uniform. He walks over to the desk and sets the shot glass down, then drags his hands through his long hair and winds it up into a top knot.
“Thirsty?” Aodhan asks.
Konstantin secures his manbun with a silver hair prong Borat the sprite has hefted his way. “I wouldn’t mind a glass of water, if you’re offering to fetch me one,” he says, dropping into one of the chairs.
Aodhan snorts, and though he does collect a carafe from the nightstand, he must understand the thimble-sized glass isn’t just a recipient because he grabs a normal-sized cup on the way. “I’m guessing the shot glass is an integral part of the story?”
Konstantin glances toward where I lean against the wall of the cabin. “Miss Ríhbiadh, would you care to enlighten them?”
“Your king tricked me,” I say, before proceeding to tell them how Konstantin and I came to find ourselves in the human district of Voshna, where we planted a listening sigil linked to the shot glass. Though our grand adventure widens Salom’s pupils, what blows them even wider is when I drop Mestyla’s name and her affiliation to Svyato.
“I want them both brought to me,” Konstantin says once I finish.
Salom nods. “Release me from our bargain, and I’ll go fetch them immediately.”
For a long minute, Konstantin is silent, evidently uneasy about recalling his magic. Curiosity as to what this bargain entails eats at me.
After drumming his fingers, Konstantin flattens his palm and says, “Salom Melchanko, you may approach Svyato Suprovic.”
