Trugg roared and strafed the branches that held him with fire.
Irina turned away. “I grow tired of you. Leave my castle. Stay away from my huntsman. If you come back, I will rip your hearts out, but unlike the king’s, I won’t keep yours safe.”
“Safe?” Kol had to force the word out. It was as if without his human heart, he was nothing but dragon—all instinct and violence with no spoken language. His memories—of his parents, of Brig, of everything he loved about Eldr—were slipping through his fingers like water, receding behind a thick gray curtain that blocked him from everything that used to matter, leaving nothing to hold back the well of violent anger that had replaced his second heart. He grabbed for the memory of his mother’s laughter, for his sister’s smile, for anything that could give him a weapon to keep the rage at bay, but the images faded into darkness, and Kol was alone with the terrible beat of his dragon’s heart.
Irina flicked her fingers and the branches that held Jyn and Trugg wrenched them into the air and hurled them from the room. Turning to Viktor, who stood silently on the far side of the room, his mouth set in a tight line, she said, “I’ve seen the face of the man who is helping Lorelai. He was in my huntsman’s blood memories. Get me an artist. There’s something familiar about this man’s face. I want a name to go with it.”
Turning to Kol, she said, “Find the princess. Bring me her heart, and I will restore yours.”
He wanted to resist. To refuse to be her predator.
But the collar sent tiny shocks of power and pain into his skin, and his thoughts felt clumsy and far away. Irina waved a hand and the cage crumbled to dust.
“Go, huntsman.”
He went.
TWENTY
IT TOOK FOUR days for Lorelai and Gabril to reach the eastern edge of Duchess Waldina’s estate. They traveled hard, pushing themselves from dawn to dusk as they hiked through thick stands of dying evergreens, climbed rocky ravines, and hurried through meadows of rotting grass. The strain was showing as Gabril’s limp became more pronounced, the lines of pain that bracketed his mouth digging deep. Still, he refused to allow Lorelai to heal his leg, arguing that if the deer heart trick had failed, Irina could be coming after the princess herself. Lorelai needed all her energy just in case.
She stopped arguing with him on the second day. If his heart wouldn’t submit to hers, she’d be exhausted from the effort, and he was right: she needed all her energy.
Just in case.
The Waldina estate rose above another long meadow of brittle, yellow grass. Fences of weathered oak hemmed in the enormous property, and horses already wearing their winter coats were scattered throughout the pastures, munching on piles of hay. Beyond the house, the village of Baumchen clung to the side of the first of three western mountains, but Lorelai had eyes only for the mansion at the end of the long cobblestoned road that bisected the meadow.
The mansion was enormous—an elegant monstrosity of marble columns, stone trim, scalloped shutters, and a hundred windowpanes gleaming in the afternoon sun. Multiple chimneys pierced the slanted roof, nestled between narrow gable windows, which were open to let in the fresh mountain air. Smoke rose from each chimney in thin ribbons of gray. The entire house was painted a bold yellow that reminded Lorelai of an egg yolk.
“We can’t exactly walk up to the front door and knock.” Gabril leaned against the fence that marked the border between the pastures and the forest they’d just hiked through.
“The horses look well fed.” Lorelai scanned the pastures and then stared at the village beyond. “I wonder if the Waldinas are feeding their peasants as well as their livestock.”
“I wonder where they’re getting the hay for the horses since the ground here is just as bad as it is in the east.”
“Being loyal to Irina must have a few benefits.” Lorelai studied the mansion, gauging its security. Its weaknesses. Gabril was right—she couldn’t just walk up to the front door and knock. Even if she gained entrance that way, the servants who opened the door would announce her to the duchess, giving the woman time to prepare herself.
No, what Lorelai needed here was the element of surprise.
And she’d just discovered her way inside the mansion.
“Wait out of sight in the trees. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but don’t worry if it takes a while.”
“How are you getting in?” Gabril asked in a tone that really said “Do you have a way back out?”
“Through the open dormer windows.” Lorelai nodded toward the narrow gables whose windows were cracked open to let in the fresh mountain air. “I’ll find the duchess’s bedroom—”
“How?” His mouth was tight with worry.