Franc shot him a dark look, but wisely refrained from saying anything. Jamson was also quiet, but I could feel his gaze on my back, and it was as deadly as a knife—and that might just become a reality if I wasn’t very careful. I had a feeling the Rossi heir did not appreciate being shown up in any way, shape, or form.
Of course, he had to find me first. It was doubtful that—even when my face was revealed at the equinox unmasking—he’d think to look in the Nightwatch for me. Aside from Saska and the now dead Marcus, Kiro and Trey were the only other ones who knew my background, and I doubted they’d reveal it, as it would void the very reason they were using me. No Reaches man or woman—no matter what the house—would reveal any information, let alone their most intimate secrets, to someone considered so far beneath them. They might find a stained witch intriguing, but once they discovered I was actually nothing more than a Nightwatch officer with a small amount of magic… well, I’d be seen as little higher than a serf—as someone they could use but certainly never trust.
I headed back out into the ballroom, then paused, not entirely sure what to do next. After scanning the crowd and seeing no one I knew, let alone anyone I wanted to talk to, I walked back to the foyer, vaguely hoping to catch Kiro on the way through. But there was no sign of him—if he was on his way here, as the healer said, then he wasn’t coming via the main entrance. Which didn’t really surprise me; Kiro, I suspected, had a long habit of doing the unexpected.
I walked across to the main doors and studied the long line of carriages outside. The one bearing Trey’s colors wasn’t present, so he was obviously back at the Harken house with the lady Lida. I contemplated joining him, but before I could move, the wind whispered around me, bringing with it a distant but familiar sound.
The Adlin were howling again, but it was stronger—angrier—than before. It was also a sound that spoke of an imminent attack.
The itch to run down to the gates, to take my place amongst my fellow Nightwatch, had me taking a step forward before I could stop it. The reality was, the Nightwatch and the walls were more than capable of taking care of the Adlin without my help. Even if the Adlin used trebuchets against us, as they had in Blacklake, it wouldn’t help them breach the walls or the gates. They were too thick—too strong—to be brought down by fire, however fierce. And not even the heaviest rock the Adlin could cast against the walls would mar their mirror surface and give them climbing holds. Even if the fire did reach the outer bailey area, it was, for the most part, more stone and earth than wood, and wouldn’t easily burn or smoke.
So why did the wind speak of trouble and treachery?
I frowned and stepped further into the night. The air was bitterly cold, and fat drops of rain fell from the edge of temporary canvas cover, chilling the back of my neck before running down my spine. Far below me, I could see the lights that lined the inner wall, and, beyond that still, the black ribbon that was the main outer wall. From a distance, everything seemed to be as it should. There were no alarms, and nothing to indicate an attack. And yet the wind continued to suggest all was not as it looked.
Damn it, why did she speak so clearly to me sometimes, and not at others? Was it simply because I hadn’t gone through the initiation ceremony? Or was there something else going on? Certainly she’d been clearer within the walls of the Rossi household than anywhere else, but standing out here on the porch rather than inside shouldn’t have made that much difference.
As I caught the ends of my skirt to stop it flying over my head, something weird happened. The wind dropped and everything went still; even the storm seemed momentarily hushed. Then, with a huge whoosh, the air rushed backward, as if drawn unwillingly down the hill. Even the breath from my lungs was snatched, and it left me momentarily dizzy. I threw a hand against the sidewall to keep upright, and felt the shudder go through the stone. But power wasn’t being drawn from it—not in the same way that the air was being sucked down the hill. It was more a reaction to what was happening—it was as if the earth was issuing an odd kind of denial.
A heartbeat later, the attack alarm sounded.
Not up here in the Reaches, but down below, in the outer bailey. Lights flared along the inner wall, throwing the area immediately around it into brightness, and highlighting the scramble to get to the walls.
Because it was the night of the equinox, and there was only a skeleton crew manning them. If ever there was a perfect time for an attack, then this was it.
I clenched my fists against the increasingly urgent need to take my place amongst them, to fight beside the people I’d grown up with, the people I cared about. Ava and April would be down there somewhere, running to answer the call to arms. I should be with them, not up here playing games with people who’d never accept me.
Except it wasn’t a game. Not when the very safety of Winterborne might well hinge on us uncovering the true depth of the plot Hedra, Saska, and the now dead Pyra were involved in.
Besides, even if more than half of its personnel were drunk, the Nightwatch could cope with an attack. The walls wouldn’t be breached, not by anything the Adlin could throw at them.
It is not the Adlin you have to worry about, the wind whispered, in a voice that oddly sounded like Saska, but rather treachery from within. The Adlin did not call the air.
The image of Hedra, feet bare against rough, wet stones, her hair shining brightly against the rough blackness of the inner wall, flitted through my mind.
Hedra was supposed to be here, in the ballroom, her every movement being watched, so how could that image be fact?
Trust, the wind whispered.
But if Hedra is in Winterborne as a spy for whoever’s behind this plot, why would they risk exposing her?
Because her position here has become tenuous. Because of you. Because of your actions. She will make her mischief and then she will run.
Not if I can help it. I ran into the storm and was soaked in an instant. I didn’t care. The driver of the first carriage in the long line hastily jumped down from his covered seat as I approached, his face one of confusion and concern.
“M’lady, can I—”
“Find Lord Kiro immediately. Tell him Lady Hedra is in the outer bailey.” I brushed past him and jumped into the cabin.
“M’lady wait!”
I didn’t. I just hit the start button, grabbed the steering stick, and pressed the accelerator to the floor. The carriage lurched forward, rattling and shaking as it picked up speed. I zoomed through the gates and followed the wet roads down the hill, slipping and sliding around the various corners. More than once the carriage threatened to smash sideways up the wide pavements and into the ostentatious entrances of the many houses that lined the roadside, but each time I battled the steering stick and managed to keep disaster at bay.
The closer we got to the inner wall, the more strident the alarm became, and the more urgent the wind’s whisperings. My breathing was little more than short, sharp gasps, but it wasn’t fear. It wasn’t even the exertion of battling with the carriage.
The air was simply becoming scarcer the closer I got to the outer bailey.
If a soldier couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t fight.
Was that Hedra’s plan? To snatch the air from the lungs of everyone in the outer bailey, then simply walk down and open the gates to the Adlin?
What on earth would that gain her?
Even if she killed every last soldier in both the Night and Daywatch, both she and they would still had to contend with the military forces manning the secondary wall and the entire force of both air and earth witches in the Upper Reaches. Hedra wasn’t a strong enough witch to steal the breath from them all, of that I was sure. She’d die, the Adlin would die, and she would have outed herself as a traitor all for naught.