Page 47 of My Wild Horse King

The hand that wakes me up is not Alexei’s, and it’s not Leonid’s either. It’s someone much older, much rougher, and far more aggressive. “Hey. You came with the pretty boys, didn’t you?”

I reach out to zap them.

“I was going to kill them both—knocked them out cold—but then I thought about it. What if pretty boys like that has rich parents who could pay for ‘em?” When he smiles, I notice one of his front teeth is dark brown.

I shudder.

“Ghislain, the pretty girl don’t like us.” He stoops down closer, spit from his mouth spraying my face when he says, “I don’t care. Now, tell me if you got someone who’ll pay for ‘em?”

If I shock him, what will happen to Leonid and Alexei? How did he knock them both out? Before I can answer or knock the men senseless, a third man comes running, his sides heaving as he stops beside us. He doubles over. “Wait.”

“What?” the first man asks, yanking my head up and exposing my throat. “What’s all the fuss?”

“One of them boys is the tsarevich.”

The man’s response is crude in the extreme, but he drops my head in his shock. One second later, he whips me back up again. “Is that true?”

I don’t immediately answer, trying to decide what’s smartest, but he’s not someone who waits, apparently.

He kicks me.

All my patience gone, I reach out without thinking and shock them so hard, they curl up into fetal balls on the ground. I kick the big man right in the gut, and then I shock them both again. “Where are they?”

Their only answer is moaning, so I shock them again. “Where are they? If you don’t tell me, I’ll shock you every five seconds until you do.”

The big man’s foaming at the mouth in a very satisfactory way when he points and splutters out his directions. But by the time I get there, it’s too late.

Leonid’s awake, and he’s really taking a beating when I arrive. Two men are holding him, and two more are striking him. Blood’s streaming down his face, one of his arms is dislocated—maybe broken—and his left eye’s swelled up so big that I can’t see the eyeball at all.

Alexei, meanwhile, is tied up, both his hands and his feet, lying in the corner, apparently forgotten.

“Hey,” I shout. “Over here—what are you doing?”

The man who just slammed his fist into Leonid’s stomach smiles. “This is the tsarevich—he admitted it. Can you believe it? We have a chance to get a little of our own back.” As if he’s just now taking in my clothing, he frowns. “Wait. You’re—are you with them?” Now his smile widens.

The two men holding Leonid drop him, and he slumps in a way that isn’t very encouraging. I hope he’s alright, but I have other things to worry about currently. “Why would you think he’s related to the tsar in any way?” I laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“He dropped this.” The man holds up Alexei’s ring. It’s the signet of the tsarevich, and whenever we go out, Alexei takes it off and puts it in his belt pouch. His father isn’t very popular in this area right now, not with the high taxes, the lack of housing, and the backlash from the Potemkin mess.

Which means I’m stuck.

Things are about to get messy, and although we aren’t really supposed to use our magic in a public place, I’m sure Alexei’s father would prefer that I expose our powers to his son being brutalized by these goons and then ransomed while war’s looming on the horizon. The royal coffers are already dangerously low from what I hear. He wouldn’t appreciate forking over any of his diminishing funds to these idiots.

“Ooh, let me see it.” I hold out my hand.

The man laughs. “I’m not stupid.”

“Empirically disproven by your actions.”

While the jerk furrows his brow, trying to work out the meaning of my words, I strike. I can only split my power into two different streams at a time, which I’m supposed to be working on improving in the next few weeks here, but with just four men in the room, it’s enough. I hit the two closest to me first, shocking them for much, much longer than I did the last two. And just before the other two reach me, I release the first guys and slam the others with full force. They fly backward, away from me and toward Leonid.

Before their bodies collide with his, I release them.

All four slump to the ground, and I’m confident they won’t recover enough to harm us, but I still have to figure out how to get Leonid and an unconscious Alexei back to our waiting car.

If it’s even still there. I stupidly didn’t think to swing by and grab the key. I groan inwardly, and jog across to where Alexei’s body is curled up and tied. I lean close enough to confirm that he’s breathing—short, shallow breaths—and then I keep moving to check on Leonid.

Up close, he looks even worse than I thought at first. His leg’s bent and looks broken. His nose is clearly broken, too. His eye’s swollen up like a grapefruit, and I’m worried there’s not much left under the damage. I can’t bring myself to poke around and check.

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