Chapter 4
FOUR
KSENIA
I am on edge while we wait for the other monster to return. I don’t believe for one minute he’s gone to get me a “coat.” Surely it’s some codeword between them? This has to be a trap.
At least I thought so before the big blue one with too many arms gave me my knives back.
Then again, he proved that even with my skill, my big, bad knives weren’t much of a threat against an adversary like him.
All my muscles clench, preparing to attack or run. My hands are poised, ready to grasp my blades should I need them at a moment’s notice.
Waiting with the six-armed blue guy doesn’t feel as scary, somehow, though that’s likely foolish. But it’s like whenever he looks at me with those deep-red eyes of his—which, hello, should be freaking me out—it does the opposite. I feel a little calmer.
Clearly, my danger meter is broken after everything that happened today. He might not seem so scary right now, but he’s probably just playing good cop to the other guy’s bad cop, and I’m the idiot who’s falling for it.
I stand up straighter, trying to shake off any perceived calm. Paranoia is the only thing I should be feeling right now. I’ll just get the hell out of here, back to the land where everyone has two arms, no wings, and, you know, human skin colors. Then I’ll make my uncle rue the day he was born.
But first things first. Get the hell out of the creepy castle.
I tense as I hear heavy, clodding footsteps on stone, and then the big lion-goat man comes around the corner holding a huge, puffy, pink women’s coat and gloves. It’s got to belong to the woman who was here before. The one who had to check on their crying baby daughter.
Okay, this is obviously just one bizarre dream. Take the coat and gloves, get the hell out of here, and then work on waking up.
Solid plan.
I snatch the coat out of his hands without actually touching him and tug it on. I follow him through one last huge room with a big table and a roaring fire, down a long spiral staircase, and finally through another large room to a door—
That the big lion-goat man throws open for me.
Holy shit. He was being serious about letting me go? I don’t second-guess it or wait for any speeches as I sprint out into the absolutely blistering cold beyond, yanking on my gloves as I go.
“Be safe!” calls the blue guy with too many arms.
I don’t answer. I just keep going into the white beyond.
I’m free!
I take off toward the woods beyond the castle, only looking over my shoulder once to make sure they aren’t pursuing me.
But they’re still at the castle keep’s door, watching me leave. This time I whip my head back around so I’m watching ahead. I have a vague memory of running straight into a tree trunk. . . Yeah, let’s not do that again.
So I run, and I run, and I run.
After about ten minutes, I realize I have absolutely no idea where I am or where I’m going.
They were shooting at me as I ran away from the chateau, so I wasn’t exactly clocking my surroundings. Not smart.
Usually, I’m so on guard.
But it was supposed to be a vacation. So stupid. More than anyone, I know there aren’t weekends off with the kind of life I lead.
And I knew things had been tense lately. That’s why Dad was looking forward to the trip. Uncle Pavel promised he had a way back from exile, and Dad trusted him. We both did.
Dad’s been running things from outside the country for a decade, but we’d all agreed it was safer that way. Dad had too many enemies back home, and with Pavel on the inside, we had men on both sides of the border to ensure operations stayed smooth.
Apparently at some point, Pavel became unhappy with that arrangement.
Or maybe he’d been a jealous little bitch the whole time, just waiting and plotting for the moment he could take his brother down and claim the crown for himself.
I feel sick as I slow my steps, bending over to put my hands on my knees in frustration.
I turn in a circle, but there are only the white stalks of pine trees and the blanketed branches of spruce and fir. I stomp my foot, even more frustrated.
I don’t know how to get back to the chateau. . . but considering how many bodies I dropped there, Pavel’s probably long gone. Flight has always won out over fight for him. Fight was never his first instinct. He always runs.
Just like you did.
I smash the palms of my hands against my eyes. How could I have just run away like that when I knew Dad was still inside?
Dammit, we should have smelled the trap as soon as Pavel disarmed us at the door.
He said it was a vacation, and no one except the Pakhan should be carrying.
I tried to protest, but Dad patted me on the back and told me to listen.
That we couldn’t be anywhere safer than in a compound surrounded by family and his own men.
And besides, I’m sure he thought as a Pakhan, he’d keep his own weapon.
Even after all these years, he was still a dead shot.
I would know. He’s the one who trained me, shooting cans almost from the time I could walk. I picked up knives on my own as a teenager because I decided some situations called for a quieter kill.
Did Uncle Pavel do something to Dad’s sidearm, I wonder? Or was Dad able to shoot his way out and get away too?
Like Dad, I never anticipated that his men would turn on us because they’d given allegiance to Pavel, of all people.
He was a conniving weasel of a man, whereas my father was handsome, tall, and a good, strong leader.
Fair to his people, he split profits evenly instead of hoarding all the wealth for himself like some Pakhans do.
He was someone men would be proud to follow.
And now he’s. . .
Grief clenches my throat. He’s got to be out here somewhere. He can’t be. . . Not Dad. He’s a giant. You can’t snuff out a giant with one stupid betrayal.
Although. . . I look around as I walk forward again, if only because it’s the only thing to do. What do I know about what is and isn’t real?
I ran out of that deathtrap and straight into a Brothers Grimm fairytale forest full of monsters.
I shake my head. The further away I get from the castle, the more I convince myself I’ve just been in shock and hallucinating since I ran into that tree.
I glance down at myself. The big pink coat covers most of the blood from my clothing, but now that I have a moment to myself. . .
I start to shake, and it’s not from the cold. Or, well, not only from the cold. “Daddy,” I whisper, my warm breath puffing out in a cloud in the freezing air. Tears clog my throat.
Everything that happened today feels absolutely surreal. And that was before I met the monsters.
I look around. I’ve been standing still too long. I pick a direction, suck in a deep breath, and run again.
Eventually—surely—I’ll get somewhere, right?