“It’s still a notable detail.”
“Notable, but not hereditary.”
Confusion bends my eyebrows. “I’m aware, but it narrows it down.”
“Narrows what down?”
“Our search for my future victim: amber eyes, pointed ears, white hair, mole.”
Disbelief chisels the muscles of his face. “I thought you were talking aboutMestyla’smole.”
The boat slams into the trough of a wave, jostling my seat like Konstantin’s remark has just jostledme. “Great Goddess below…”
“What?”
I swallow to wet my throat that feels as parched as the Selvatin Desert. “I think my victimisMestyla.”
“You said she had pointed ears.”
“Mestyla was wearing a turban. We don’t know what her ears or hair color look like.”
The boat slips over another swell, and another, as though to hammer in the fact that the girl I’m destined to kill had been right there, within our reach.
Right fucking there.
If only I’d thought of asking Konstantin to use his air-magic to knock the turban off her head.
If only I hadn’t cheered to Alyona of Glace.
If only I’d flown right back.
If only Konstantin hadn’t come with me.
If onlysweren’t going to help me figure out why I killed Mestyla with one of the Glacin Princesses’ daggers, or why I wore Konstantin’s ring while committing the crime. Before I can voice either of these questions, I spot another galleon through the window, one not quite as large as Konstantin’s but still impressive in size.
Lev stands at its railing, dark ringlets teased by the same icy gusts that churn the bay. He’s staring our way as though he can see us. Can he? The window is large, but the cabin is gloomy—unlike outside, where daylight lingers.
“He disliked me before, but now,” Konstantin muses, “that boy will be on a mission to strip me of my charmed medallion.”
I suck in air and look away from the window. “Why?”
“Why does he dislike me? Because I wasn’t interested in becoming friends when he dated my sister. Because I’ve cut down on the number of annual arms permits the Crown issues, which apparently slashed his family’s income in half. Because?—”
“I meant, why would he resent you even more now?”
Konstantin’s attention drifts back to me, slow and deliberate. “Because the woman he wants is atmyside.”
“I could be at his in the blink of an eye,” I inform him, partly because I’m still vexed about the wholesevering the mating bondbit, and partly to remind him that I’m not a toy he can wave around on his kingdom’s playground.
The outline of Konstantin’s body hardens like tempered steel. “Don’t.”
“Or what? You won’t give me your mother’s pretty ring? Pardon my Glacin, but fuck you, Vizosh, and fuck your kingdom’s tribulations.”
I slip into my shadows and fly back to the castle of the galling monarch, who better not be my preordained mate, or I will riot.
17
ISLA
