“Don’t move,” Tahki said. He heard the click of the pistol as it cocked again. Tahki looked up. Zinc stood five feet away, blood dripping down his skull into his eyes.
“I won’t miss this time,” Zinc said.
“She’ll see,” Sornjia muttered. Tahki turned his body so his brother would be shielded.
“Don’t watch,” Tahki said and moved his hand over Sornjia’s eyes. This was it. There was nothing more he could do. They would die here.
“She’ll come,” Sornjia said again.
Zinc squeezed the trigger.
Tahki felt a powerful thrust of wind rush by them, black and sleek and deadly. Instead of the crack of a bullet, Zinc’s cry burst through the castle. Pooka hunched over them, a mass of fangs and fur, Zinc’s body caught in her mouth. She swung him back and forth like a limp doll and then released him. His body skidded across the floor and stopped at Dyraien’s feet. Blood flowed from a deep gash in his stomach, and he howled in pain. The cat let out a deafening roar, and everyone froze.
Dyraien stumbled back. “What is that thing?”
Most of Zinc’s men fled to nearby rooms like a herd of startled deer. One man drew a pistol and pointed it at Pooka, but the cat leaped quicker than he could pull the trigger. Pooka tore at his arm, bit down, and threw him against the wall. She lowered her head and growled again.
Rye tried to move toward Tahki, but Dyraien grabbed him and said, “That thing will kill you!”
“Tahki.” Sornjia’s voice. “Run.”
This time Tahki didn’t hesitate. He heaved Sornjia and moved for the door, but his brother’s body was too heavy, and Sornjia had trouble walking on his own.
“Pooka,” Sornjia said. “Help.”
The cat appeared at their side, and Tahki rested Sornjia against her. She looked terrifying, her fangs red, her claws extended, her eyes searching to find prey. Even Tahki felt disturbed by the wild animal inside her, but once Sornjia was secured and they started moving, he felt relieved she’d come to help them. With Zinc’s men too intimidated to fire at them, it left a clear path to the front door. They moved across the marble, out into the fog. The air tasted wet and heavy. Tahki tried to concentrate on everything real. The cold air. The warm blood. The scent of gunpowder. Anything that would keep him moving, keep him alert and awake, keep his mind from shutting down completely.
“Tahki!” Rye called.
Tahki faced the castle. Rye stood in the doorway. In Rye’s eyes, he saw confusion, disbelief, and a deep, deep hurt. But he couldn’t stop now. Sornjia needed him.
He turned away as the sounds of Zinc’s men stirred behind them. Dyraien was a prince trained for leadership and battle. Pooka might have surprised him, but he would recuperate quickly and send someone after them. The fog gave them cover enough to flee, but men on gingoats would hunt them. With the cat’s help, Tahki moved Sornjia far and fast from the castle, not looking back to see the chaos they’d left in their wake.
Chapter 15
HE JOGGED alongside Pooka, holding Sornjia steady. They ran hard for a time and then walked when it became apparent no one trailed them. Tahki found the ruins, the first place he’d felt a connection to Rye. Dyraien probably figured they’d run to Edgewater, try to find medical help. He must know Sornjia would bleed out unless the wound was closed. And he was right. Though they’d put the castle far behind them, they were trapped. Sornjia needed help, but they couldn’t risk traveling to Edgewater.
They entered the ring of tall stones. Tahki eased Sornjia against a thick gray slab of rock that jutted out of the ground like a giant spearhead. Pooka settled herself above him on a flat rock and stretched her muscles. She lowered her head beside Sornjia, and he reached up to pet her. His eyes appeared dim, his breath shallow. The wound bled badly. The moist fog kept it open, and the bullet was still lodged inside. They had no tools, and Tahki doubted he could sneak back into the castle to get some.
Tahki stripped off his shirt and held it to Sornjia’s shoulder. “The wound isn’t bad.” The white shirt turned bright red.
Sornjia smiled. “Liar.”
Tahki swallowed. “I’m going to the river to get some water. Do you think you can hold my shirt here?”
Sornjia nodded, clumsily grasped for the shirt, and shut his eyes.
Tahki walked to the river, and when he was far enough away, he cried. He sniffed and coughed into his hands. Tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t wipe them away. The river here was calm. He knelt and splashed his face and then removed one of his boots and plunged it beneath the water. Goose bumps rose on his skin, and he shivered.
He had never felt so powerless in his life. He needed a plan, some way to heal Sornjia. He could sneak back to Gale’s house, but she might not help them now that Sornjia had been exposed. Edgewater was too far, and Zinc’s men would be on the lookout for them. He might be able to return to the castle and bargain with Dyraien, offer to take the blame for killing the queen if Dyraien promised to save Sornjia, but who was to say he wouldn’t kill him on sight?
Even with Pooka, he’d never be able to get into the castle without help. And Rye? He didn’t want to think about him. By now, Dyraien would have fabricated some elaborate story about Tahki, and Rye would believe him, because there was no explanation for Sornjia or Pooka.
Feeling defeated and without options, he wiped his eyes and returned to Sornjia with his boot full of water.
“Hold still,” Tahki said. He moved his shirt and poured the icy water onto Sornjia’s wound. It occurred to him that cleaning the hole to prevent
