Sofie’s hand begins to tremble, the gun barrel with it. In one step, I’ve gently swept her arm down and to the side.
As she disarms the hammer, I squat down on eye level with Agnata. The girl sobs harder as I raise my hands infront of her face, amethyst peeking out of my palm. And then I use all the mercy I have left.
“Ómegin. Rata.”
If only there were a spell to pause time.
With the Agnata affair, our window to execute our plan has shrunk. But at least knowing it was going to happen got us in the door and able to turn the tables, thanks to Sofie’s commendable acting skills. Yet there’s no calling this a success until it’s finished.
Looming over us is Sofie’s father’s famous punctuality, because he’s not just on time, he’s early, especially if a deal is involved and he might finagle himself a better price with the element of surprise. Arrive early; find things imperfect, unfinished, or otherwise at fault; win a discount for disarray. That was how Baron Gerhard of Holsten ran—like clockwork, but ten minutes ahead of schedule. There’s absolutely no time to lose.
We move the bodies first—Sofie and I working together to carry men one by one, head to foot. Will puts his back in it, throwing a man over his shoulder one at a time. He carries out Agnata next, slipping her off the chair and into one of the motorcars the guards drove down from the castle.
We line them up in the overgrown summer grass behind the warehouse, and then each pick our man andget to work. Stripping away everything but their undergarments—boots, pants, button-ups, weapons. Then, we pile the boots into the car with Agnata, dress ourselves in the remainder, and run back into the warehouse for the final piece of our plan.
We stand three abreast, spaced evenly before the six ships.
“Ready?” I look to the cousins, on my left and my right. They nod.
“Set?” They raise their inked arms in a double-fisted salute, gemstones set in their palms.
“Light!”
Will and Sofie scream out the wildfire command as one. They ignite as if they’ve done this their entire lives—luscious purple flame leaping toward the rafters.
Now it’s my turn.“Vindr!”I direct my hands toward their flames, and a gust of wind kicks up and guides the flames to each boat.
One and two. Three and four. Five and six. They go up, two by two, steel taking the flame with a twist and a sigh, the heat of it bending, curling, buckling. Within the space of a minute, they’re nothing but molten lava.
Almost finished.
“Vaxa!”I scream, and with the wind’s help, the flames leap to the rafters, which catch fire in an instant.
“Run!” I say, and they do, each extinguishing their flaming arms.
We push out into the noontime glare, smoke chasing us out of the building, but it’s just starting on the roof. If we hurry, we can be out of here before anyone notices.
Maybe.
Sofie jumps over the car door and into the back seat of the open-top motorcar, tucking her long hair up into a bun and pulling a guard’s hat over the mess of it all. I have a much easier time, but I know I’ll look suspect up close. It’ll have to do.
Will gets the motor going, and the car rumbles to life. He shifts a few cranks and gears, and we jolt back and then forward as he edges around the other car and the sleeping stunned men.
“What are you smiling about?” I whisper, because he is indeed smiling and it’s completely ridiculous that he should have this expression on his face while driving a getaway car.
“I can’t believe they’ve got a Vauxhall,” he says. I have no idea what this means. When he sees me frown at his glee, he adds, “It’s British.”
Ah. Made by the same country that produced the ship they destroyed with the first of their U-boat fleet. Now, I grin back. “Traitors.”
As we come around the corner of the warehouse, I hold my breath. A few dock workers have noticed the flames, but they’ve yet to notice us fleeing the scene.
Will turns onto the sea lane, and there’s an identicalcar rumbling down the narrow road, coming from the direction of the castle. Inside is a single driver with two men in back—one in the blue of Havnestad, the other in a coat as green as ours.
Will tenses, and I know it’s exactly who I suspect. The baron and the councilor working to make a sale in the dead king’s place.
I immediately find something very interesting to look out my window, which faces town and away from the vehicle about to pass within inches of us. Will props his elbow up on the door, his knuckles to his temple as if this is the most boring drive ever. In the back, Sofie slumps in her seat, head down. I can nearly hear her praying.
We’re close enough that her father could reach over and remove her hat without much trouble at all.
