I needed to calm my mind. I straightened and grabbed the tea kettle off the hook, hanging it over the fire.
When I heard the door open, I turned, hopeful that I’d see Zahra.
Instead, it was Sourial striding into the room, a velvet robe draped casually around him. “Did our little mortal take out the army or what?”
“Either she did, or she has a very powerful ally.” I stared into the fire, my mind aflame. “And yet it confirms what the dreams told me. She’s important somehow. If she took down a legion of soldiers, she’s powerful, even if she’s a mortal.”
“If. We weren’t there, were we? And she’s not exactly helping you become High King of the Fallen.” Sourial glared at me. “Perhaps you should keep her locked up until you’ve got better control of her.”
For a moment, I imagined her locked in my real home, as my captive. I’d keep her in Castle Saklas—far away from here, away from the Free Men. “I don’t understand women at all.”
“Maybe your dreams lied.” Sourial rubbed his eyes. “Do you need my help hunting her down?”
I hated admitting that I needed help. “Yes. Tea first. Then hunting.”
48
Lila
I scuttled down the wall again, fingers in cracks.
I’m coming for you, Samael.
When I was only ten feet above the ground, I let go of the wall and jumped. I sprinted across the courtyard, fast as lightning, leaping and dodging over the bodies. No secret passages for me now. I’d take the main door, and I’d run through the castle screaming until I got someone’s attention—anyone who could stop Samael from pulling that drawer open.
I found the castle empty—because everyone had been patrolling the courtyard, now poisoned with nightshade. I shouted his name, but I felt it was being swallowed by the castle.
By the time I reached his room, I was completely out of breath, gasping.
I flung the door open and started to run through the library.
“Samael!” I shouted. Sourial was there, too.
Samael stood before the little table where I’d planted the bomb, pulling open the drawer. I stared in horror.
I had only a moment of looking into his eyes, those beautiful gray eyes—just long enough to see surprise, relief even.
“Don’t!” I screamed.
But the word was drowned out by the searing heat that scorched my body, and the force of the blast that threw me back against the stone walls.
For a blinding moment, pain ripped my body apart, and then darkness pulled me under.
I woke to the feel of silk beneath me.
Confusion whirled in my mind. Something terrible had happened, but I couldn’t remember what it was. I blinked into the slanting light.
To my right, rays of honeyed light pierced two gothic, diamond-paned windows. They cast a golden wash over wooden stacks of books, from the floor to the ceiling. Vaguely, I remembered a much larger library, one three stories tall. I was in a smaller room, cozy. I liked it in here.
But a dark shadow was sliding over my thoughts. Something terrible had happened in the large library. A castle library. I felt like my mind had trapped a terrible memory beneath a murky surface, but when I shed light on it, it hurt. Pain pressed sharply against my skull. A pressure in my head. I licked my lips, finding them dry.
I had no bloody idea where I was, or how I’d got here. When I moved my head, pain shot through my temples. Ow. When I pushed myself up on my elbows, pain cracked my bones. Ow. When I moved my skin in the sheets, I felt like I was burning.
A dark memory pushed at the recesses of my mind. My body had been burning, charred flesh …
Nausea rose in my stomach. Had I been on fire?
I ripped off the sheets, staring down at myself. I was wearing a short, white nightgown—not mine. But I didn't see any burn marks. A light reddish hue, maybe, and a strange, faint shimmer. But nothing that looked serious.
I blinked and surveyed the room. Besides the windows, there were two oak doors, one bolted shut, the other leading to what looked like a bathroom. On a bedside table, someone had set out a glass of water. My throat felt like sandpaper, and I took a long sip.
My body felt weak, shaky. After I slaked my thirst, I slowly slid my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching a cold stone floor.
Who had dressed me in the nightgown if it wasn’t mine?