Page 139
At that thought, a hundred bites of anguish dug into my chest.
“All those villagers,” I breathed out. “We failed them.”
“Yes. We did,” Jagaros said.
His voice wasn’t fracturing like mine, I realized, because he had already fractured long ago. This was just a sliver of what he’d felt at the death of thousands of his people. A familiar pain for him. A new horror for me.
The corpse who had knocked me to the ground and dripped blood onto my dress—somebody’s family. Somebody’s friend.
At the thought of friends, I gasped. If Gileon had succeeded in finding any of ours, Emelle, Lander, Rodhi, and Wren could very well be on their way to Wasteon now. Could stumble into the same death I had, but without a tiger to save them.
The moment the thought solidified, I was humming at the jungle, a complicated string of high and low notes weaving together. Don’t let my friends come this direction. Stop them with whatever force necessary.
It was a more complex request than I’d ever given, but the giant mahoganies increased the tempo of their own tune, and I almost breathed a sigh of relief.
Almost, because I still needed to get back to the Institute and make sure they were okay. Maybe they hadn’t left yet. Maybe Gileon had never found them.
For the next hour or more, Jagaros took me through the jungle in silence, always finding trails as thin and hidden as arteries flowing downward. We didn’t even have to descend the cliffs to get to campus, somehow slanting down a path that hugged the great rocks in a giant zigzag behind fumes of waterfalls.
At long last, the Esholian Institute sparkled with remnants of the storm below us. A soft, orange glow was infusing the horizon on the sea beyond.
Almost morning.
I slipped off Jagaros’s back and turned to wrap my arms around his neck.
“Thank you.” I hoped he could sense that my gratitude went beyond those two words. He dipped his head, the slits of his pupils drilling into me.
“Be cautious, Rayna Drey.” He didn’t mention the rest of his usual advice, to be clever and curious, too. “I’ll see if one of Kanuk’s animals knows anything about Coen’s whereabouts. And I’ll have Yenatin consult the map.”
I didn’t know who Yenatin was, and I was too overwhelmed and exhausted to ask. I simply gave him one more squeeze and watched him turn and streak away.
Now I began to run, too, even though my bones and muscles screeched in agony with every step. I just needed to make sure my friends were okay, then I could address whatever injuries Wasteon had hit me with. I wasn’t sure I trusted our house medic to not ask questions, but maybe Felicity could help me…
On Bascite Boulevard, silence prickled the back of my neck. The street was empty. Curtains and doors closed. It was usually like this after a night of partying, but there was a certain… solemnness to this particular silence.
Quickening my footsteps, my heart hammering once more, I made it to the Wild Whisperer front door and flung it open.
“Emelle? Wren?”
I stopped dead in the doorway. Too many faces and pairs of eyes turned my way, more people than I’d ever seen crammed in the foyer. But quiet. Too quiet.
Because in the middle stood Mrs. Smetlar with a carnivorous smile.
Surrounded by no less than ten Good Council elites.
CHAPTER
45
RAYNA
“Rayna!”
The shriek came from Emelle in the corner of the room. I had a moment of crushing relief—that she was okay, that she was here—before she lunged my way.
The princess of our house grasped her shoulders to restrain her at the same time that Mrs. Smetlar strolled toward me, hands clasped behind her spine. I began to back away, only for the Wild Whisperer door to slam shut of its own accord… or at the invisible hands of one of the Objecting Summoning elites, probably.
And lock.
