Page 141 of My Dark Horse Prince

“They want you to come to the following address in the next half hour.” I rattle off the numbers and street name they’re holding in front of me. “But you know me. I hate the idea of someone trading themselves to save me as much as I hate Polish sausages. I’ve never wanted any, and I don’t want you to show up in the next thirty minutes, either.”

“If you don’t come alone, we’ll kill her,” Mikhail says. “And if you’re late, we’ll kill her.”

Before I can say anything else, Boris ends the call. “You’re dumber than I thought. Why call her at all if you’re going to tell her not to come?”

“Because she wants to be noble,” Mikhail says, “but she’s also hoping for a way out.” He chuckles drily. “It’s a real conundrum, deep-seated human loyalty combined with the very human desire to survive.”

“Don’t act like you understand me,” I say.

I’m praying that Adriana remembers our code. She’s never been a huge fan of Kristiana, so I’m sure she’d rather Kris get caught than me, but she’s the only one who knew the code. If I mention Polish sausages, it means to send for help.

But instead, I said that I hate them.

I don’t want help.

I just want her to tell Kristiana that I called, once it’s too late, so she knows what happened and something about where I was. But while I wait, the men both pacing, I can’t help my mind from revving at a million miles an hour.

Why do they want Kris?

She’s the one who restored Grigoriy’s power. Their powers do nothing when directed at her. The wind dies away. The earth can’t smother her. It can be wrapped around her, but not pressed against her.

What’s special about Kris? How is she connected to all this? Apparently we’re not the only ones who want answers. And I can’t quite help myself. I keep badgering them for more, even knowing I’ll never be able to share what I learn.

“What’s the connection?” I ask. “How is Kristiana tied up in all this?”

Mikhail frowns. “That’s what we want to know.”

“You really have no idea?” Boris scowls. “You’ve been with her this whole time.”

They know as little as I do.

I wonder what Rukovoditel knows. Who is he? Why would these two be scared of him? Could he be the one who cursed them originally? Mikhail said their past hundred years haven’t been comfortable either.

It feels like every question I ask just births two more baby questions.

And my leg’s throbbing, throbbing, throbbing.

I wonder how long it’s been.

Surely once the time has passed, they’ll kill me. Grigoriy and Kristiana will both be devastated. Aleks will be bummed too, I imagine. He’s a decent guy. My mom will probably go back to drinking. And maybe to Martinš. Hopefully Adriana can keep her away from both.

And, oh, my sister’s the one I worry about the most.

She’s already so angry all the time. What will something like this—my death, and her being the only one who knew about it—do?

As the minutes tick by, I start to feel a little lightheaded. Is my injury causing internal bleeding? Will I pass out before they kill me? That would be nice. I’d prefer not to be awake for the stab wound or the misery of being thrown from the window of a moving train.

On that dark night, I wished I could have ridden one more time.

At least I don’t have to regret that. Not only did I ride, I triumphed.

And those guys weren’t really going to feature me on Horse and Rider or Fox and Hound or anything else, but other reporters did want to share my story.

“It’s time,” Mikhail says. “It’s been half an hour.” He stands up.

And the phone rings.

Boris leaps to his feet and answers it, and then he nods. “Okay.”

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