Fiery pain flares up my injured leg when I step forward. Then I’m weightless as Asmo scoops me into his arms and carries me inside. “Get a rag,” he barks to Ivan.
“I’m fine,” I protest, but everything hurts—my leg, forearm, and head throbbing in unison.
Ivan hurries behind us, veering into the kitchen before returning with a clean rag. Asmo wraps it around my ankle without warning and I hiss. He lifts my shirt and slashes the dark sigil, then mars his own. The throbbing in my head vanishes.
“Better?” Asmo asks, peering up at me. I nod. Already, the wound on my forearm begins to knit itself together.
Ivan eyes us wearily from across the living room. “What happened?”
“Witches,” I grumble, expecting Luca to chime in with a lecture about why we shouldn’t have left in the first place, but there’s no sign of him. “Where are Holly and Luca?”
“Gathering wood for the fire,” Ivan responds. “We were running low. Wh?—”
“How is Cally?” I ask.
Ivan’s jaw clenches. “She’s stable, but she needs that extract. Did you find it?”
Asmo pulls the glass jar from his pocket and tosses it to Ivan. He catches it mid-air. “Are you going to tell me what the hell happened, or do I have to keep asking?”
Asmo quickly recounts our time in Bouldercrest and everything welearned. Ivan paces the living room the entire time, staring at the floor. He stops at the mention of Flint.
“Wait a second. August’s cousin?”
I nod. “That’s who he claimed to be.”
“And he doesn’t know your true identities?” Ivan asks, now staring at Asmo like his gaze might better serve as a knife poised to cut through him if he answers wrong.
Asmo glares back. “Despite what you might think, I only have Mae’s safety in mind. Of course we didn’t tell him who we were.”
“So, he justvolunteeredthat information?” Ivan asks incredulously. He walks to the kitchen and grabs a glass from the open shelves, setting it on the dark wood countertop.
“He’s either an incredible liar or an idiot,” I say. “We’re planning to meet back up with him in three days.”
Ivan turns back toward us, brows now pinched together. “What? How? How’s that even going to work? What did you tell him?” He fires each question at me.
“I told him I had a gorgeous friend who would love to meet him and August.”
His hand falls short of the glass whiskey decanter. He slowly turns back to face me. “And who is your gorgeous friend?”
“Holly.”
He sets the empty glass on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Absolutely not.”
I put my hands up. “Ivan, hear me out. AugustknowsHolly. I can’t walk in there, but if he sees Holly, we can get him alone and tell him who we are.”
“And what if he’s with the witches? Then what?”
I wince as Asmo wipes the rag along the wound once more, muttering a half-hearted apology from the floor. “He’s not! The shopkeeper said King Conall and August have been patrolling the streets to ensure everyone’s safety. IknowAugust. He would never condone this!” I exclaim. I nudge Asmo, who remains annoyingly silent on the matter. “A little help here?”
He huffs a sigh. “She’s right, Ivan. August is annoyingly honorable.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Ivan says.
“Good thing it’s not up to you,” Holly mumbles as she walks in the front door. “We could hear you outside. I’ll do it.”
Luca whirls his head toward her. “You will do no such thing,” he growls.
“Luca,” Ivan says in warning. “Take a breath. Holly?—”
