Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,99

be lost forever.

Including Nahteran’s.

“Shouldn’t there be guards?” Taya whispered, her dark eyes scanning continually over the mansion and lawn. “It feels like there should be guards. Security of some kind.”

Dread seized Nahteran’s heart, and before he could think better of it, he stepped out of the cover of the trees onto the grass. The warmth of the sun fell over his face, but it couldn’t calm his raging heart, a drumbeat only he could hear.

But nothing happened. Nothing changed. Here, though, he could tell that the alarm and the music were coming from the house. Something inside him tugged him closer, like he was a puppet on a string. He walked toward the front door.

“Nahteran!” Taya scrambled to catch up with him, caught his arm. “We shouldn’t do this.”

He didn’t want to tell her about the bangle, the fragment of his own soul that might be inside this house, might be being bargained over right now. It felt selfish to focus on that when so many souls were at stake; selfish to fixate on it when he was functioning well enough with eleven out of twelve pieces back in place.

But he didn’t feel like himself, even if he wasn’t entirely sure who his self was. His life was better than it had been in years—the Silver Prince was dead, and he was safe at Havenfall, with all the people he cared about around him. Maddie, Marcus, Graylin, Taya, Dad, Mom. And they were making real progress against the soul traders, freeing Solarians from their silver prisons every day. But nightmares still plagued his sleep. Dark feelings courted his mind: anger at Mom because she hadn’t saved him from the kidnappers all those years ago. A sick yearning for a taste of the power he’d had at the Prince’s side in Byrn. A dread that he was eternally trapped between worlds, not really Solarian and not fully human. People weren’t supposed to feel things like this. There had to be something wrong with him, something broken that regaining this last piece of his soul would fix.

“If the buyers are here, we can’t let them get away,” he hissed to Taya. “We’ll never track down the objects if they do. We have to stop them.”

Taya’s jaw was set, her eyes burning. He could tell she didn’t disagree. Still, she said, “There’s only two of us. And—”she gestured toward the collection of vehicles on the driveway—“a lot more of them.”

“I have these.” Nahteran let his hands drop to the two daggers at his waist, touching the hilts to reassure himself that they were still there, though he never left Havenfall without them. “And you’re a Solarian.”

Taya cracked a smile, though her eyes were grim. “So are you.”

“You know what I mean.”

Taya sighed. “Fine.” She cracked her knuckles. “Let’s do this.”

As they crossed the lawn, the music crescendoed to a roaring finale—a triumphant clamor of strings and trumpets—and then faded out. But the alarm continued, a screeching backdrop to Nahteran’s growing fear. And there was another sound, a low rumble. He realized all the vehicles were still running, empty as they were. Keys dangled from the motorcycle ignition. Whoever they belonged to, they wanted to make a quick getaway.

He drew his daggers, careful not to let the blades rasp against the hilts.

He crossed the threshold into the house, Taya behind him. As they’d seen from outside, it was empty, ominously so, the expensive, minimalist furniture looking like the stage setting for a play. But two things marred the pristine room. The first was a set of muddy footprints across the light-wood floor. The second was a woman, lying on her side at the entrance to a wide, glass-walled hallway, breathing softly with eyes closed. She was middle-aged, with powdery skin, blond hair, and expensive clothes. There was a mottled bruise on her forehead, and her wrists were tied in front of her with duct tape.

“Janna Reynolds,” Taya said with distaste. She crouched down and held a hand in front of the woman’s slightly open mouth. “She’s breathing. I guess one of her buyers double-crossed her.”

Nahteran’s whole body was prickling with adrenaline; it seemed to surge through his veins with every blare of the alarm. “We should take her back to Havenfall. Maybe she’ll cooperate, tell us where she’s been sending the silver.”

Taya nodded. “But let’s deal with them first.”

She lifted a hand and pointed down the hallway, where a closed metal door stood that seemed too heavy, incongruous with the rest of the house.