“What? I never told anyone I was coming after you.”
“You told her to ‘tell that white rabbit to watch out,’” I said, repeating what Ember had told me.
“That wasn’t a threat.” He shook his head. “I was warning you. You need to stop this.”
“Stop what?” I asked, incredulous.
“Dammit,” he muttered.
Konstantin pulled the knife from my grip, then he let go of me. I stayed where I was, lying on my back on the bed, because I wanted to get a read on what was happening before I made a move. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to me with the knife in his hand, and he ran a hand through his dark tangles of hair.
“I feel terrible about what happened with your father. And now everything that’s happening here.” He shook his head. “I made a choice a long time ago, and I’m still trying to make things right.” He looked back at me over his shoulder. “But things are in motion, and there’s going to be a lot of casualties, and I don’t want you to be one of them.”
“Why?” I asked in disbelief. I moved so I was sitting on my knees. “Why would you even care what happens to me?”
“Because you saw good in me that wasn’t there.” He turned away and stood up. “Forget about me. Forget about everything here. Just go back to Doldastam … No, don’t go there. Just go. Forget about the Kanin and everything.”
“I’m not forgetting about my family or friends or my people,” I told him. “I can’t just run off, like you did. And I’m not leaving without Emma Costar.”
He rubbed his forehead. “It’s better for you if you leave without her.”
“Where is she, Konstantin?” I asked.
“Bent just doesn’t know his own strength,” Konstantin replied, almost sadly.
“What happened to her? If you hurt her, I’ll—”
He groaned. “This was going so well. Can we stop with the threats?”
“Not if you won’t tell me where she is.”
“I don’t know where he left her, but it won’t do you any good to find her,” Konstantin said in a way that made my blood run cold.
“You killed her,” I said, my voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You son of a bitch.”
I dove at him and punched him in the face, and I think he let me at first, allowing me to hit him in the face and chest a few times before he tried to grab my wrists. Then I kicked him in the stomach, and he grabbed me and twisted my arm behind my back. I tried to buck him off, but he pushed me forward, slamming me against the wall.
“Let me go,” I growled, but I was trapped between him and the wall.
“Stop, Bryn. I can’t undo what’s already been done.”
“I’m going to kill you,” I warned him.
“I’m trying to make things right. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m trying.” His words were low and filled with regret, and his beard brushed against my cheek. He let go of my arm, and I pressed my palms against the wall, but I didn’t turn around. I didn’t fight him. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but please, trust me on this.”
I closed my eyes, wishing I didn’t trust him, but I did. I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, or the fact that he could kill me but didn’t, or maybe it was just the memory of the good I thought I’d seen in him when I was younger.
His breath felt warm and ragged on my cheek, and his hand was on my arm. He didn’t have me pinned, exactly, but his body was pressed against me, holding me in place. I could push him off, but I didn’t.
“I can’t let you go,” I told him.
“I can’t let you follow me,” he said softly.
I looked back at him over my shoulder. The curtain had been pulled back a bit in our struggle, and the light landed on his face, so I could clearly see the hurt and regret in his stormy gray eyes.
“I’m sorry, Bryn,” he said simply, and before I could ask him why, I felt a sharp pain in the back of my head as he hit me with the butt of the knife, and then everything went black.