Wicked Saints (Something Dark and Holy #1) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,51

of her head.

She let out a breath, watching it hiss out in the cold air before her.

I need him to be able to return to Tranavia and hide amongst his kind in plain sight. If I am to wear his magic on my skin, then he must be forced to wear mine on his. She paused, considering further. The heretics cannot win this war and I fear they are close. If we protect this single Tranavian for the time being—abomination that he is—then we can cleanse Kalyazin of the heretics entirely.

“Then you will be given the spells and magic to shield him from his enemies and yours.”

Nadya noted his phrasing. It would do.

Thank you, Veceslav.

“You tread dangerous ground, child. Our touch on Tranavia is weak. If you journey there, you take yourself away from our protection. You must do your duty when you arrive.”

Nadya shivered. Break Tranavia so the gods can return. Destroy it entirely, if that was what it took. And tell no one what she intended. The conversation was dropped when she heard footsteps crunching in the snow.

“Can’t you do this inside where it’s warm?” Malachiasz settled himself down on the bench beside her. He looked sidelong at her. “I was wondering where that went.”

She felt her face flame. “I don’t exactly have anything else at this point.”

He laughed. Her face flushed even hotter. She ducked her head, confused by the queer feeling in her chest. It was the first time she had heard him truly laugh, and it struck her that she liked the way it sounded.

“It doesn’t bother you to be wearing a heretic’s coat?”

She rolled her eyes, but his words struck home and sent something churning within her. It should be bothering her to be wearing the enemy’s uniform, even if it was just a piece.

“Why do you have a soldier’s coat?” she asked.

“When I fled, it seemed rational to flee as a Tranavian soldier, not a Vulture. We’re a bit more conspicuous.”

They grew quiet until only their breaths broke up the silence. She glanced at him. He was gazing at the statue of Alena with a contemplative expression on his face. His black hair was tied back, but a strand had worked its way free. She watched as he mindlessly lifted a hand to tuck the lock behind his ear only to have it fall back against his cheek.

“I know how to help you cross the border,” she said. The words came out in a rush at the thought he might catch her staring. She unwrapped her necklace from her hand, stretching it out over her lap. She selected the right bead and held it up.

“That is entirely meaningless to me,” he pointed out.

“Veceslav is the god of protection and war.”

“Odd combination.”

She waved that away. “Protection can mean a lot of things. Protection can mean shielding all of you from Tranavia.”

He looked skeptical. She searched for the right words. “You’re going to put a spell on me so everyone who sees me will see … someone else.”

“More or less, yes.”

“But if I were a blood mage, they would still be able to sense my magic, right?”

He nodded.

“Veceslav will disguise you as a weaker mage, or someone who has no magic at all. You could…” She searched for a scenario. “You could slip among the Vultures and they wouldn’t know.”

He grimaced, reaching over to brush a fingertip against the bead in her hand. “If they catch me,” he said, his voice low against her ear, “they will pull the knowledge I have of you from my mind and set me after you to kill you.”

Nadya swallowed hard, fear flooding through her. She resisted the urge to tuck his jacket closer around her. “I—I thought you were one of the strongest?” He never said it, but his demeanor implied it. He’d have to be to survive this long after defecting.

“But I’m not the oldest, Nadya.” His pale eyes were faraway and one of his hands idly rubbed at his wrist where iron spikes had jutted from his skin. “I am so very young by comparison, and there are evils in this world far greater than I.”

Her fingers closed over her necklace. “Don’t make me regret helping you,” she whispered. “Please.”

He tilted his head back and she found her gaze drawn to the line of his throat, then he gave a lopsided smile. “I can’t guarantee that, towy d?imyka.” He stood. “We’re leaving soon. You and I can wait till we’re closer to the border to cast