56. Isla
56
ISLA
T he vibrations turn into squeals. Thankfully, not human ones.
“Ilya,” Konstantin and Aodhan breathe out in unison.
“Can you stand, Iz?” Aodhan asks. Once she nods, he flashes out of the wagon. A heartbeat later, he’s reshaping into flesh. “It’s Ilya. He’s safe.”
“I told you,” Ksenia lisps.
“You also told us Mestyla was a talisman-hungry bitch,” Aodhan snarls. “Not exactly a source of reliable intel anymore.”
That thins her lips. “I don’t want to see him.” She cuts her glare to her lap, cloaked once again in the lavender dress she must’ve plucked off her sister’s back, seeing as the relics of Izolda’s stripes are the color of wisteria.
“Can’t understand why.” Sarcasm drips from Aodhan’s voice.
She swings her face toward Konstantin. “You said you were waiting for Iz to wake up. She’s awake. Trial me here. End me here.”
“I’ll do it,” Mestyla offers.
“I’ll help,” Sofiya volunteers.
A storm of loathing and hurt shrouds Izolda’s sunny stare. “You’d just be giving her the easy way out. She doesn’t deserve to fade into oblivion. She deserves to look our mother, our brother, our grandparents, our people in the eye and witness the devastation that her senseless ambition caused.”
“ Senseless ?” Ksenia’s shock reverberates through the rank coffin. “I was trying to bring about change. I was?—”
“STOP!” Izolda shrieks, tears bursting down her freckled cheeks. She sweeps them away. “Stop trying to justify your powerplay!”
Aodhan inserts himself between the sisters and turns to cup Izolda’s slender jaw. “ Kohanosh , help Sofiya climb off the train.”
“I’m not a cripp—” Sofiya switches her tune at Aodhan’s pointed stare. “Yes, I’m actually in dire need of help.”
The earth-Fae adds a whimper that swings my eyes skyward. But then they slam low as I realize her leg may never grow back—something I might need to tell her. Eventually.
Izolda draws in a sigh that must be heavy with the cloying, bitter scent of death, for she plugs her nose as she heads toward her aunt, gaze firm on the floor.
Walk Mestyla to the train? Konstantin asks. I’ll be right behind you.
I nod. “Come, Mestyla.”
As we travel down the short corridor, she glowers at the varnished baseboards that aren’t drenched in ash and blood. Only in crisp air from the draft curling through the train’s gaping doors.
“How are you feeling?” I ask her as we descend the three steps onto solid earth.
She grimaces. “Not great. You?”
“Good has triumphed over evil,” I say, swirling blood onto my palms to light up the darkness.
“Evil is still alive,” she disputes.
I sigh and take her arm. At first, she stiffens, but then her whole body relaxes.
“Unfortunately, Mestyla, evil will always exist. It won’t always be as loud or pernicious as it was tonight, though.”
As we walk alongside the wrecked train, she says, “I still don’t understand why we have to let her live. She killed me.”
I bite my lip. “I know. She also killed Salom, who was like a father to Konstantin.”
She grimaces. “The big, blond Faerie in the Throne Room?”
“Yes.” My lids color with the gruesome sight of him, and I shudder.
And then I think again of all the soldiers bleeding in the hallways and Ivan’s corpse rotting in my closet. To think we’ll have to return to the castle and face the desolation…
“Any chance your family has another palace, Iz?” I call out.
“Is one not enough?” She draws Sofiya to a stop and turns.
I snort. “You know me and my delusions of grandeur.”
She offers me a sad smile. A smile, nonetheless.
“The reason I’m asking is because there are so many cadavers in the palace that…that it may be best for everyone to get a break from death for a few hours.”
“Konstantin always wanted to build a winter palace, but he hasn’t gotten around to it.”
I arch a brow. “Because the current one is a summer residence?”
“She hasn’t traveled to the north yet, has she?” Sofiya asks.
“It’s that much colder in the north?” I ask as we reach them.
“I got frostbite on my nipples one winter,” Sofiya says. “Wasn’t pleasant.”
The corners of Izolda’s mouth drag a little higher. “Was it the time you went to that Yuletide-skating revel without a coat to prove to Matsi that Duke Whatshisface wasn’t chivalrous and that she should dump him?”
“Yes. Can’t believe you remember.”
“Of course I remember. It’s what brought my parents together. Atsa had a cloak fetched for you and then he gave my mother his furs, so convinced was he that her own weren’t adequate for the weather.”
Both Mestyla and I listen avidly to this anecdote that humanizes the man she probably grew up believing a tyrant. To think the former Glacin King was her grandfather.
“We could go to my house,” Sofiya suddenly offers. “I’d like to see the rest of my family, and there are plenty of rooms.”
“Alexandra could probably also offer us shelter,” Mestyla says.
“Alexandra?” I ask.
“Zubrowa,” Izolda whispers reverently.
“She helped raise me.”
“We heard. Did you ever read her books?” Izolda asks as we start up again and cross over the train tracks toward the glossy train that glows invitingly in the damp murk.
“All of them. They were my most treasured possessions.” Mestyla blinks away tears.
For some reason, my mind dredges up my first sighting of her. She’d had a book in hand. Could it have been one of the Countess’s? I’d assumed it was a revolutionary edict, failing to decipher the title on the spine. If only pride hadn’t gotten in the way of me asking Konstantin to read it out to me.
“When they set fire to the tavern,” she croaks. “I lost almost all of them. I managed to save six, and that was only because I’d taken them out to reread during my stay at Alexandra’s. I hadn’t understood why my father was sending me there, but he seemed so…” Her voice catches. Quiets.
Guilt prickles my chest at the possibility that Svyato sent her away because our visit had alarmed him.
“Was your stay at Alexandra’s a coincidence?” Izolda asks, layering another coat of guilt over my heart.
“No. Atsa said he had to go out of town to meet with an investor.”
When tears fork down her cheeks, Izolda lets go of Sofiya and draws her niece into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mestyla.”
“Thank you,” she croaks.
I catch Sofiya knuckling her scarred cheek. Could the female I believed despicable be weeping?
Sure enough, she says, “My heart isn’t a lump of ice, Isla.”
I offer her my arm. “My family’s coming.”
She quirks a brow. “Is that a threat?”
“No. Just wondering if my new friend’s home can accommodate so many guests.”
“Oh.” She gives her damp skin another knuckle-lash. “I’m surprised you’re asking considering you’ve already toured my place.”
“I took a peek.”
“ Mm-hmm ,” she murmurs. “You’re lucky we’re friends.”
I squeeze her arm. “I am lucky.”
“A Crow friend…” She shakes her head. “Can’t wait to trade land travel for air travel.”
A chuckle bubbles up my throat. “Like Aodhan pointed out, we’re not domesticated reindeer.”
“Oh my Gods. We should totally domesticate a reindeer!”
“Actually, that does sound kind of fun,” I concede.
“Are my ears deceiving me, Iz, or are Sofiya and Isla plotting to tame wild creatures together?” Ilya’s voice feels like the warmest cloak on the coldest winter night.
“Want to join us?” I ask as he traipses over, his boots crunching on the frozen earth beneath.
“Fuck yeah! Can’t believe you’re even asking.”
Behind him, I spot two soldiers. My heart seizes until I see one conversing with Colm. Not a foe…
“I’m sorry about Yuri,” I tell Ilya.
He tucks his mouth to the side. “His body will eventually recover.” But not his heart… “How’s Kostya? I heard Salom…”
“I don’t think it’s truly hit yet,” I murmur, just as Colm advances toward us.
“I’m sorry for not being there, Isla,” the male Crow says, his voice teeming with onus he has no reason to carry.
I touch his arm. “I’m safe.”
“Have you told your father yet? He’s been…concerned.”
Skies, my poor father! “Can you help Sofiya into the train?”
She tips her head back…and back, eyes bulging with a mixture of panic and awe.
“Colm is a giant teddy bear,” I tell her.
The shifter’s lips kink into a crooked smile. Sofiya gulps.
The instant he’s taken possession of her arm, I soar upward, then fill out into my Crow. Mórrígan, it feels good to shapeshift.
What’s your ETA, Dádhi?
Fucking underworld, ínon. Why are you so intent on testing the limits of my immortal heart?
Wouldn’t be my mother’s daughter if I didn’t keep your ticker ticking.
Can you try to be your father’s daughter and stay the fuck out of trouble for a change?
I grin. Swearing is very ugly and unbecoming of a royal. Oh, and before I forget, I have a mate!
I expect my father to mention his ticker is in even greater peril now, or bemoan his feathers’ imminent grizzling, or chide me for believing Behati.
What I don’t expect is for him to say: I know.
What do you mean, you know ?
Meriam told us the day the Cauldron showed Daya the ring on your finger. Apparently, it was one of the reasons she gifted Korol the talisman in the first place. To keep the bond at bay until you came of age.
What?
Fucking what ?
And then I recall how she’d wept the day of our fake betrothal, and I shift back to flesh so fast I pound into the earth. Konstantin!
The tunnel amplifies the brittle, harried snap of boots. When he lunges off the tracks, his bare chest is heaving and his skin has acquired a pearlescent sheen.
“What is it? What happened?” His neck swivels left and right, his palms sparkling with magic.
I feel a little guilty for causing him alarm, but I’m so outraged. “Mimi knew! She knew all along!” My lips quake so violently that I finish pouring my indignation into the bond. And then she told my whole family that you and I were mates the day of our boat ride back from Voshna.
Holy fuck, woman. I just lost years of my life. Konstantin rubs his chest, his thumb sliding under the shotgun’s leather strap.
Cauldron, he’s beautiful.
He’s beautiful and mine .
“What did Meriam know?” I hear Izolda enquire as I swarm toward him, half-flesh, half-shadow.
His silver eyes glint, casting tinsel over the soft line of his mouth. Is he smiling? Illogically, his placidity ticks me off further.
“Don’t leave us hanging,” Sofiya says. “Friends tell each other everything. What did your great-grandmother know?”
Their nosiness sloughs off a morsel of my moodiness. “That?—”
Konstantin cups the back of my head and slants his mouth over mine, snuffing out my reply and blanking my thoughts.
I link my arms around his neck and sink into our kiss. But then my mind revs right back up. You don’t want them to know that we’re mates?
I want the world to know. His lips move over mine in a devouring caress. I just felt like kissing you first, Little Witch.