Page 128 of A Storm in Every Heart
The crossbowman studies us, torchlight shining off her face. “Both of you, walk toward me with your hands up. Now.”
Kastian glances back at me, then toward the soldiers. Clearly, he’s thinking fast, and I don’t think I like whatever he’s planning. “Let her go, and I’ll come with you,” he says, his face twisted with pain.
“No!” I hiss.
The soldier scoffs. “Not going to happen. The king wants both of you.”
“The kingisn’t stupid,” Kastian snaps back. His hand is pressed to the wound in his shoulder and he looks to be swaying slightly, but his voice never falters. “Capturing us like this won’t get him the alliance he wants. Take me back to the capital. I’ll go without a fight, but if you touch her?—”
The soldier’s laugh is a single sharp note. “You’re hardly in a position to bargain, prince. In a minute you won’t even be conscious.” She shifts her aim, pointing her crossbow directly at Kastian’s other shoulder. “But don’t worry, we won’t touch the siren. The king doesn’t want her damaged. You, on the other hand, are fair game so I’m not going to say it again; hands up, or I keep shooting and we’ll leave you here to die while we take the siren back to our king.”
Kastian doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even flinch, his jaw set in a line so rigid it might snap. I can tell he’s thinking about fighting anyway, and I can’t let him. There’s too many soldiers, and Kastian already looks like he’s about to pass outfrom the poison on the first arrow. What if he doesn’t survive the second one?
Adrenaline floods my system and self-preservation wins out over pride. I raise both hands into the air and stumble forward toward the nearest soldier.
ODESSA, AGE 16
Irun blindly toward the castle, head down, not caring who sees me in my nightgown. My only thought is to get as far away from the garden as possible before the burning at the backs of my eyes spills over.
I clench my hands into fists, willing myself not to cry.
I’ve always been good at hiding my tears in public, but this time I can’t. Despite my best effort, the tears come. My vision blurs and by the time I reach the castle corridor I’m snuffling audibly, so lost that I nearly plow over a servant carrying a stack of linens.
“Sorry—” I gasp, but the girl’s already scuttling away, her face carefully blank.
A fresh wave of embarrassment crashes over me. I know I need to pull myself together before I’m spotted by someone who knows me, but the palace is a maze and I’m suddenly,desperately lost. On a whim, I yank open the first door I see and slip inside, letting it thump shut behind me.
The hush is immediate and heavy. I press my back to the door and slide down, the coat and blanket pooling in a heap around me.
My brain replays Kastian’s face over and over: the confusion in his eyes, the way his smile collapsed inward, as if I’d punched him in the gut.
I can’t hold it in any longer, and the tears spill over. I sob uncontrollably. Each sob racks my body, making my shoulders quiver with the intensity of it all.
I let the emotions flood out, feeling the hot trails of tears mingle with the snot trickling down my face. My chest heaves with each ragged breath, and I cry until there's nothing left but the sound of my uneven breathing echoing in the quiet room.
When my tears dry up and I can’t cry anymore, I slowly raise my head.
I’ve stumbled into someone’s office. At least, that’s what I think it is.
The room is oval-shaped with tall bookshelves and flickering sconces lining the walls. In the center of the room is a heavy oak desk with a large armchair behind it and several books and papers scattered across the surface.
I push to my feet and cross to the large arched window. Outside, I can see the edge of the lake behind the castle, where Kastian stole my boat.
I frown deeply and tear my eyes from the water. Instead, my gaze lands on the large desk. Curious, I cross the room and pick up the nearest book from the desk. The title, “Beasts of Southern Ellender” jumps out at me and my brow furrows. Sticking out of the top of the book is a torn bit of parchment, obviously being used as a bookmark. I let the book fall open in my hand to the place the owner of this office must have marked.
For some reason—perhaps because it’s the only thing on my mind at the moment—I expected the book to be marked at a chapter about sirens. I’m wrong. The title of the chapter, written in large curling letters, is: “Dopplers, tricksters and shapeshifters.”
I’m about to start reading when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I freeze, listening hard. It’s probably just one of the servants and?—
The doorknob rattles.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I drop the book and dive beneath the desk just as the door swings open.
“—I don’t really care. If your betrothal falls through now, then all the work I’ve done has been for nothing,” a male voice says, shutting the door behind him.
“I tried,” a girl whines back. “But I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do.”
I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp. I know that voice—it’s Lyra Von Bargen. But who’s the man? And worse, what will happen if they see me under here, hiding in an office barefoot, tear-streaked, and wearing a nightgown?
