Page 158 of The King has Fallen

Anger and unease twisted my chest, but I kept turning.

The fireplace took one side. Then the window. The bed. Another window—with drawers and a wash table underneath it—filled the fifth. The final side was covered in shelves, the lowest of which was thick and deep and held a row of large baskets. But the shelves above that were full of books, knick-knacks, and curiosities.

If it weren’t for the bars on the door, I would have thought I’d been ensconced in a royal guest suite somewhere.

But why bar the door if the windows were open and accessible?

I shuffled to the nearest window—the one that let that breeze drift through the room—and found the answer.

Aware that I was still a little unsteady, I reached across the deep sill intending to grip the external ledge and lean over to see how the window was placed in the wall. It was big enough that I could crawl into it and launch from—

There was an electriccrackand a jolt that started in my fingers. Nerve pain sang through my arms and into my chest. I gasped and pulled back, blinking.

At least I was more awake now.

Swallowing, curious, and a little fearful, I pointed one finger and reached into the open window slowly, uncertain if the—

The crack came again the moment my finger passed the edge of the windowsill, and my arm jangled with that pain.

Magik. Some kind of power shield.

Careful not to tip past the sill itself, I did lean into the space to look for the ground—and discovered it was easily a hundred feet below. I didn’t know if that magik would follow me. If I threw myself through it, would I pass through?

Somehow I doubted it. And there was always the risk that the shock would freeze my wings.

No throwing myself out windows, then.

I made my way to check the other, but already knew what I would find, and sure enough, one more sizzle on my fingertip was enough.

No escape.

I began to sweat.

Then I discovered the tray resting on the top of the drawer set next to my bed.

Fruit. Bread. Cheese. And a small note in perfectly crafted handwriting:Start slowly. Your stomach has rested for days.

Rested?

Been starved, they meant. I huffed, shaking my head and tossed the note aside. But then my stomach gave a great clench and growled audibly.

I picked up the small loaf of bread, biting off a hunk and chewing on it as I walked another circuit of the room to see if there were any clues as to what nation I was in, or how I’d come to be here.

But there was nothing.

Yilan.

My heart raced.

Where was she?

Panic fluttered my heart and I froze, hand clasped to my chest, right at the center where the space that washerresided.

And only then could I breathe.

She was alive. She was nervous and unhappy, but she was alive.

I wanted to roar. But my head was still foggy and my thoughts came slowly.

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