46. Isla
46
ISLA
I glide back toward my window, since Konstantin’s is warded and won’t allow my shadows through.
Realization that I won’t wait must dawn on my father, because he murmurs, Report back as often as you can.
I will. And if you hear anything on your end, tell me immediately.
I land beside my window, then wait until my rider has tobogganed down my wing. When I hear an oomph , I melt into my shadows, then walk to the summit of the convex glass and call out to Sofiya to join me there.
Once she brushes against me, I shackle her arm. “I’m going to draw a sigil that’ll carry us through the glass. I’ll either have to draw another on the curtain, or the fabric will give under our combined weight and we’ll end up on my bed. Try not to shriek, all right?”
“I cannot believe I’m trusting a Crow,” Sofiya murmurs. “I cannot believe I just flew on one. I ca—Blasted hail!”
“Please be quiet.” I crouch, forcing her low, then dig my index finger against my earring and paint.
We drop onto my curtain. Sofiya yelps. I suppose penetrating matter is rather shocking the first time. The structure and fabric of the horizontal curtain must be made of extra tough material because we don’t drop. I paint a new sigil. Before my blood can sink too deeply into the weave, I flatten my palm against it.
We plunge onto my unmade bed, both expelling a tiny gasp, considering the height of the ceiling.
“What was that?” The masculine voice is so near that my heart misses a beat.
Could someone have managed to penetrate Taytah’s wards?
Sofiya sucks in a breath, then hisses, “You said?—”
I should’ve painted her lips shut. “ Shh .”
“Somethin’ creaked in the princess’s chambers,” another masculine voice says.
Keeping ahold of Sofiya so she doesn’t wink back into existence, I turn my head toward the doorway. There, just beyond my threshold, stand two men gripping sleek, steel weapons, the barrels of which are trained on us.
I’ve never been gladder that my bed was so unkempt, for if the sheets had been crisp and stretched, they would’ve spotted us immediately. If only I could blow my bedroom door shut to impede their view of the room…
Sofiya must’ve noticed the men and their guns, because her pulse goes haywire beneath my fingers.
“Them linens! Look at ’em!” one of them growls through ochre teeth that throws me back to Svyato’s tavern. Could it be the same man, or is this some other human with poor dental hygiene? “Them moved!”
The men squint. One of them raises their weapon a tad higher. Can my wards block bullets? I decide not to find out and roll, shoving Sofiya off the bed.
As we smack into the rug, the sharp crack of gunfire detonates inside my ears alongside my careening pulse and Sofiya’s weeping.
“My leg,” she whimpers.
“What about it?” I murmur.
“Burns.”
I let her go just long enough to sweep my gaze over her body. Not only is her calf oozing a worrying amount of blood that reddens her white stockings, but there’s a puckered depression where flesh should be.
My insides go clammy. If the bullets can penetrate my chambers, what of the two trigger-happy dunces?
“Well, would ya look at that? We got one.”
Sofiya’s eyes bulge as she stares at the underbed space. “They can see me,” she hisses, clapping my wrist to fade back out of sight.
Focá. I haul my Faerie charge up and over my shoulder, then pounce to my feet. Another crack, followed by the splintering of wood as the bullet destined for Sofiya’s head embeds itself in the bed’s baseboard.
I lunge forward, past the rollaway table set with the relics of the meal I shared with Konstantin. A meal that feels like it took place a month ago. The rebels must spot the drips of her blood on my carpet, because the bullets whiz around us like livid sprites.
One catches on the carafe of Faerie wine; another on the mirror of my vanity. Both shatter into a million shards. If only I could gather the glass shrapnel on a gust of air and launch it at the two asshole rebels.
Although it can’t take more than a second, it feels like an eternity before I reach the narrow corridor that leads to my walk-in closet. Sucking down air like a drowning human rescued from the ocean, I whip through the doorway, coming to a screeching halt.
Crouched before my safe is another round-eared soldier.