21. Isla
21
ISLA
A week after the gala, Ksenia sweeps into the library, startling the slow-moving orbs in the fireplace and silencing the gleeful conversations.
As she scans the startled faces of the six female and the lone male Fae, a smirk tugs at her mouth. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”
“You’re…back?” I don’t think Izolda means to make it sound like a question but that’s the way it comes out.
“It’s book club! My favorite evening at the castle.” Ksenia’s eyes hold the shine of inebriation, yet no alcoholic fumes drift off her as she drops onto the couch across from me, beside our only male member, Fritz.
The Faerie moistens his lips and inches away from Ksenia.
“You haven’t attended book club in over ten years, Ksen.” Izolda closes her book with a snap, then squares her shoulders.
“Like I said, my favorite evening at the castle.”
While Izolda’s Faerie friends exchange jittery glances, Naeva and I keep our focus steady on Ksenia.
“So, what edifying novel did we read this month?” Ksenia leans over and snatches the paperbound edition from Fritz’s bejeweled fingers, then flips through the pages quickly. “ The Ice Maiden . Let me guess the storyline. A lowly human is saved from peril and a life of hardship by a dashing pure-blooded prince.” She thumbs through a few more pages. “Oh, no”—her lips quirk—“a general.” She hums. “Which one of you is now fantasizing about cornering Salom and having your dirty way with him?” Like canon barrels, her eyes lock on the pinkening points of Fritz’s ears. “Of course you are, Fritz. I’d say go for it, but Salom is such a brute, and you’re such a delicate?—”
“Are you done?” Izolda stands and strides over to her sister, tearing the book out of her fingers and handing it back to the sweet, flummoxed male. “I don’t know why you’ve come, Ksenia, but you’re making a fool of yourself. Please leave.”
Ksenia slaps a palm over her heart as she leans back in the scooped couch. “Are you throwing me out of book club?”
I’m tempted to intervene, but I’m uncertain how best to go about it. I doubt the sight of gleaming talons would frighten Ksenia. Still, I untuck my legs from underneath me and slip my socked feet onto the rug, ready to stand.
“Supper’s in two hours.” Though Izolda has her back to us, I’ve no doubt her lips are squashed for her speech is barely above a hiss. “You should go rest.”
“You’re such a nurturer. A shame you’ll never be able to have children. If that Crow truly cared about you, he’d let you screw a male capable of planting a babe inside your womb.”
When a tremor zips up Izolda’s spine, I murmur to Naeva to escort Izolda’s friends into the adjoining room. And then my cells disband and reknit on the opposite side of the glass firepit.
I touch Izolda’s clenched fist. “Naev needs help working the samovar in the game room.”
“Aw, how sweet are you , Isla?” Ksenia’s tone is as sticky as treacle. “Standing by my sister as though she were your own. I suppose that big blue stone on your finger has given you delusions of belonging to my family. Newsflash”—she holds her hand in front of her mouth as though to impart a secret—“you’re not, and never will be, a Korol.”
The sharp bite of Izolda’s palm against Ksenia’s cheek zings through the dense air. “Slight me all you want, but do not attack Isla.”
Ksenia’s lips finally flatten. “Or what? She’ll call out to our brother and command him to gut me like he gutted Alyona?”
My shadows drift off my limbs and slick around Ksenia’s neck. Though tempted to draw blood, I refrain. However, I apply just enough pressure to blast her lashes high and carry her fingers to her neck.
As she wheezes, I say, “You know how savage and lawless we Crows are. We neither require permission nor help gutting those who grate our nerves.” When her cheeks redden, I finally recall my shadows.
“How dare you lay a finger on me!” she chokes out.
“Technically, it was a shadow, not a finger.”
Ksenia vibrates with rage. “You’ll regret that.”
“Better regrets than remorse, right?” I’m aware that I probably just secured her everlasting antipathy, but it’s not in my nature to stand back and watch unhinged people fling shit at others. Especially when those others are their own flesh and blood.
Ksenia finally gets to her feet. In her wedged boots, she stands several inches taller than I do, which, seeing the new smile kinking her lips, seems to please her to no end. “While I was away, helping a family who lost their two sons to a derailed train car, I got to thinking about my brother’s necklace, and how wonderful it would be if humans could carry something to protect them.”
Is she about to ask me to manufacture amulets for mortals? Because if that’s her angle, she probably should’ve thought twice before enraging her sister and disparaging me.
“Anyway, it struck me that his necklace blocks magic, and mating bonds are magical, right?”
My pulse hushes before picking up speed.
“Mating bonds are fated,” Izolda says, “not magical.”
The slow-churning orbs in the fireplace reflect in Ksenia’s intent stare, lending it a starker, crueler shine. “Beg to differ. Anything that comes from the Cauldron is magical, and mating bonds are Cauldron-made.”
“You’re right. They are magical.” I narrow my eyes right back on hers. “But there’s a little loophole in Konstantin’s amulet—it protects him from evil magic. Everything else filters right through.”
When Ksenia’s eyebrows dip, Izolda crosses her arms in front of her chest and juts out her hip. “I don’t know what your problem is, but?—”
“My problem is that Konstantin should be focusing on healing our kingdom and not on cozying up to a specie that believes itself superior to ours. Can you imagine if her Shabbin genes counteract her Crow ones, and Kostya and Isla manage to produce a child? Three of the four lands will be ruled by shifters!”
“I understand you have reservations about us.” I don’t, given that her twin is mated to Aodhan. Nevertheless, I play the empathetic card. “But we have the best interests of both humans and Faeries at heart.”
“Sure you do…” Ksenia sneers. “Humans are still on the bottom rung of the food chain in Luce.”
“You’re overdue for a trip to my homeland.”
“I’ve no interest in visiting a land infested with winged vermin.”
“Perhaps, but one should never form strong opinions about a culture they’ve no comprehension?—”
“Did you just refer to my fiancée as ‘winged vermin’?” Konstantin’s voice has me pivoting.
He’s striding into the library, unhooking the fur cloak pinned to his shoulders. Though he worried at first that the shifters who’d remained in Glace would take offense to him wearing it, Naeva and Vance promised that the sight of fur—put to good use—didn’t turn their stomachs. Unlike serpent scales and tusks.
“No.” A manic smile cuts into Ksenia’s face. “I just pointed out that they have flying rats in Luce, like we have flying reindeer in Glace, and you know my aversion to vermin.”
Konstantin tilts his face as he hands off his cloak to a guard. He cannot possibly buy her justification, can he? “Ironic, seeing at how much time you spend in the human district.”
“Humans aren’t vermin, brother!”
“I wasn’t referring to humans. I was referring to the actual rats and mice that infest the poorer neighborhoods. I hear they’re everywhere. Was I given false information?”
“No. They are everywhere, no matter how many traps are set out.” Her tone has cooled, as though her brother’s awareness of the insalubrious conditions pleases her.
“Where have you been this past week?” he asks.
“Here and there.” Ksenia massages her neck. “Aiding as much as one lone woman can.”
Fresh snow clings to Konstantin’s white hair. As he dusts it off, he asks, “Something wrong with your neck?”
Ksenia lowers her hand, revealing a small, weeping gash just above her clavicle. “Isla strangled me with her shadows.”
Konstantin stiffens beside me, his silver irises hardening to steel as he takes in the wound that hadn’t been there before. I hunt her hand for a ring sharp enough to slice through flesh but find her fingers bare and her nails too blunt to score anything. Could my shadows have split her skin?
“She wasn’t bleeding a minute ago!” Izolda exclaims.
“Could you take Isla’s side any quicker?”
Izolda sucks in air. “This has nothing to do with?—”
I lift a palm, not wanting the sisters to fight because of me. “Forgive me if I cut you, Ksenia. My intent was to quiet you, not to cause you physical harm.”
“Sure.” A corner of her mouth coils in derision. “Did you know that in Glace we have a saying: an eye for an eye ? Right, Konstantin?”
Izolda’s mouth rounds around a screeched, “Are you mad?”
“I’m not mad, I’m cultured. If you hadn’t spent your days with your nose stuffed in asinine books, you might’ve learned a thing or two about our kingdom and its laws.”
Smoke billows from my clenched fists. I should’ve squeezed harder. So much harder.
“Anyway, it’s my lawful right to inflict the same amount of harm that was done to me.” Ksenia keeps stroking her wound as though to make sure it keeps weeping. “It’s written in our constitution. Article 17 to be exact. In case any of you care to check.”
Smoke tapers into the shape of a man beside Izolda—Aodhan. “Only if harm was caused by malice.”
“Which it was,” Ksenia drones.
“The only malicious one here is you, Ksen!” Izolda trembles so hard that even Aodhan’s steady arms around her middle don’t manage to calm her.
Konstantin finally looks away from his sister’s neck. “Isla apologized. The matter is closed.”
Does he protect me because of Mádhi’s oath, or because his sister’s demands are preposterous?
“How soft you’ve become. Then again, I visited Lev yesterday. Pretty heartless of you to hack off both his hands.”
My lungs seize as I whirl toward Konstantin and gasp, “What?”
“Huh. Fascinating,” Ksenia breathes. “You share a mind link but not your deepest, darkest secrets? Then again, I hear you also don’t share a bed.” She steps around me, circling a finger in the air to encompass both Konstantin and me. “Could this out-of-nowhere bond be an act?”
“Just because you jump into bed with whoever strokes your fancy doesn’t mean the rest of us do,” Izolda says, now crimson with anger.
“Not that it’s anyone’s business, but Izolda made me wait two whole months,” Aodhan says. “Longest months of my fucking existence.”
Konstantin’s eyes taper on Ksenia. “My relationship with Isla is private, but please, do tell me which servant or guard is spreading rumors about our sleeping arrangement.”
“So you can lob off more hands? Or will it be a head this time?” Ksenia taunts.
“Lev’s lucky to be alive,” he murmurs. “Besides, I didn’t use iron, so his hands will eventually grow back.”
“You’ve rendered him magicless!”
Konstantin stretches out his fingers, before curling them anew. “Temporarily.”
“Are you planning on removing the appendages of all who touch your mate?” Ksenia spits out.
My pulse falters. He cut off Lev’s hands because of me?
“Maybe people will rethink touching what’s mine.” The glacial timbre of Konstantin’s voice crashes through the room like an avalanche. “So best keep your hands to yourself. And please, do spread my warning far and wide. Make sure to pour it into human ears, since their appendages won’t grow back, no matter the metal used.”
“Who have you become, Kostya? Who the fuck have you become?” She backs up, shaking her head. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming back. You’ve all lost your fucking morals.” She casts one last disgusted look our way before wheeling around and striding toward the Great Hall.
“Feed her salt to find out which servant has time for idle gossip,” Konstantin instructs one of his guards.
The man nods, then goes after the princess.
“Why?” I ask.
“Because salt?—”
“No. Not about the salt. Why did you cut off Lev’s hands?”
His pupils churn as though to silently convey the reason. Not for the first time I wish I could read his mind, especially since both Aodhan and Izolda are observing us.
“Guards, leave the room and shut the doors.”
Once they’re gone, Konstantin asks me to inscribe a sigil for privacy. My shoulders dance with little tremors as I advance toward the first set of doors, pricking my finger on my earring. I give myself a pep talk as I reach up and begin to draw. My finger shakes so hard that the lines, which are supposed to be straight, turn out squiggly.
I inhale deeply, then try again, wishing the wood weren’t as pale as paper so the others wouldn’t spot my errors, wishing my sanguine strokes would stop wobbling. I fumble the last line’s placement—or maybe it’s the fourth curl that’s mispositioned. The end result is the same: my blood doesn’t sink into the wood.
“Isla?” Konstantin’s probably wondering what’s taking me so long.
I’m about to try a third time when air presses against my cheek and twists my head his way.
“I’ve changed my mind about privacy sigils. I want to be able to hear if something’s said in here later. Besides, the room is so vast and full of fabric that it already absorbs sound. We’ll talk in Crow.” He evidently wants me to stop desecrating his pristine doors but is too gracious to come right out and say it. “Come.” He pats the couch he’s taken a seat on.
As I make my way over, I suck on my fingertip, my skin hot with humiliation under Izolda’s concerned stare and Aodhan’s probing one. Tonight, I will practice the spell until my veins run dry.
When I reach Konstantin, I sit, the supple suede sheathing my legs allowing me to fold them beneath me and retract on myself until I can manage to beat back my moroseness.
“There’s something Isla and I need to tell you, Iz,” Konstantin says, rerouting my qualms.
My rib cage strains like a maladjusted corset, because I think I know what he’s about to impart to his sister. Could Konstantin have timed this revelation more poorly? Izolda’s already reeling over her dispute with one sibling. She hardly needs another.
I jolt as Konstantin collects my clammy hand in his and carries it onto his lap. He makes the move appear so natural. With his thumb, he traces the geometric outline of my diamond.
His , not mine.
“Aodhan suggested explaining the situation, but I preferred you hear it from me.”
Izolda perches on the lip of the couch, sinking her hands into the folds of her navy frock.
“After the carnival, Isla and I traveled to the human lands together.” Around and around the stone his finger goes, brushing against my knuckle with each revolution, coaxing gooseflesh onto my chilled skin. “She disguised us to look like half-bloods, so that we weren’t recognized. We had a drink at Svyato Suprovic’s tavern. There, we found out that he had a daughter.”
While I attempt to pitch my heartbeats back into alignment, Izolda looks from Konstantin to me and back again.
“I asked Salom to bring Svyato’s daughter in for a meeting, but she, along with her father”—his gaze hooks Aodhan’s—“vanished right after our visit last week. We’ve been searching for them high and low, but as of now, we’ve yet to locate either.”
Izolda blinks.
Konstantin halts his thumb’s manic pacing. “I’ve had Ksenia tailed, but she’s led us nowhere near the father or daughter.”
Because she doesn’t know them? Because she senses she’s being followed?
“As for Lev’s hands, it came to our attention that he’s been selling weapons to antimorphs. Which is the true reason I punished him. I promised his parents to keep his traitorous dealings a secret and feign that my chastisement was spurred by jealousy.”
“Why would Lev support the mutinies?” Izolda asks. “He’s one of the few who likes shifters.”
“He claims he wasn’t aware they’d use the guns and dirty bombs to terrorize.” Aodhan’s hand tangles in Izolda’s supple locks. “He truly believed they’d use them for protection and hunting.”
Izolda sucks in air. “So he didn’t mean you harm? It’s coincidental?”
“Yes and no. The sale of weapons to anyone but the Glacin army must be approved by the Crown, who then delivers permits, which he is fully aware of. Apparently, the Zaslofskys’ company has suffered some financial losses recently, and he was trying to offset them.”
“It was a mercy to take only his hands,” she murmurs.
“A self-serving one, sister. He’s now entirely beholden to me. If he so much as tries to gift a butter knife, my bargain will compel him to use it on himself.” Konstantin rolls his neck. “You must keep the reason for his mutilation a secret from everyone, and I do mean everyone , save for Salom, Borat, Aodhan, and Isla.” Konstantin sheaths his fingers through mine. “There’s one more thing.”
This is when he confesses that we’re not mates.
This is when he lets go of my hand.
This is when I lose Izolda’s trust and possibly her affection.
I steel myself for the blow it will have on our friendship and prepare an apology, but Konstantin surprises me once more.
“Mestyla, Svyato’s girl…”
I hold still. Even my lungs and heart rear to a stop.
“Isla and I believe that either he conceived her with our sister, or our sister bore the child with another Faerie and Svyato raised her.”
“What?” Izolda blusters, head pivoting toward the door still dripping with whorls of my blood. “Ksenia had a?—”
Konstantin leans forward to murmur, “Not that sister.”