on you like last time.” She grinned. “If nothing else, you still have my saddlebags.”
He gave her an even sadder smile. “Yes, of course.”
Sonya stood in the courtyard and watched him enter the college and close the door behind him. She briefly wondered if there was something else troubling him. Then a snowflake landed on her nose, and all she wanted to do was stand with the snow falling all around her. The courtyard was much too sheltered. She needed to be higher.
She took her time, making her way more carefully than usual, not wanting to undo all the hard work Velikhov had put into getting her back into shape. Her bare hands were almost numb from grasping the cold black stones of the building by the time she made it to the slanted slate-covered roof.
She put her heels on the gutter edge and leaned back so that she was angled up toward the darkening sky as the snow began to fall more heavily. The air was crisper up there, the scents less muddied. She really had been too long in the city. It couldn’t have been helped, of course, but there had been many moments these last few days when she’d felt a restless frustration creeping up within her, like a tiger pacing in its cage.
She closed her eyes. Yes, she thought. Like an animal. Mikhail had said that with each “gift” of the Lady, it became more difficult to rein in one’s instincts. To keep the animal at bay. That was why he had only ever asked one boon of her. When the empress ordered that all Rangers be put to death, Mikhail asked the Lady to change his appearance, and paid for that boon with his human heart. That had been the only time he had asked the Lady for a boon in the many years he had served her. He had seen other Rangers lose themselves completely to their animal aspect and did not want to follow them into madness. He had urged Sonya to follow the same course. To never be too reckless or greedy, to never give too much of herself to the Lady.
Was Sonya being too reckless now? Were her thoughts already growing muddied with the instincts of the wild? It was impossible to say for certain, and second-guessing herself all the time would only drive her to distraction. She needed to stay focused and fulfill her oath.
Then she heard a soft scrape of shoe leather on cedar. She looked up and saw a figure in a gray wool cloak huddled on the rooftop of the next building over. Sonya was surprised that she could hear something so faint from such a distance. Perhaps her new ears had enhanced her hearing even further.
She watched the figure, idly wondering if the person was enjoying the snowfall as much as she was. She saw him slowly sit up and caught a glint of gold buttons and a green jacket beneath the cloak. Then he unwrapped a small crossbow from a wool scarf.
An imperial assassin? Maybe they had noticed her efforts after all.
She was vaguely aware that a little saliva leaked from the corner of her mouth as she leapt to her feet and sprinted across the slanted roof toward the assassin. He clearly had not expected her to rush him, and in his panic, he fired off a shot that went wide. Then he turned and ran, slipping and nearly falling off the roof as he fled.
Sonya easily cleared the gap between rooftops, while the assassin balked at jumping to the next. As she drew near him, everything else dropped away. All she saw was the sweat trickling down his temple, and the thud of his pulse in his neck. All she smelled was the sweet-salty tang of his panic. The thrill of the hunt burned in her veins as she licked her lips and pulled her long knife from its sheath.
The sight of her grinning, hungry visage terrified the assassin, and he finally jumped for the next roof. He caught hold of the edge, but was still hauling himself up when she landed on top of him. Her heels slammed down onto his forearms. She felt the bones of one arm give under impact and he screamed.
He began to fall, but she caught him and hauled him back up to the roof.
“Please…,” he whimpered.
He began blubbering about something, but all she could hear now was the hammer of his frightened heart as she held