“NO!” Anastasia shook her head as Mikhail wrenched himself free of her hand. “What are youdoing?”
“I think they’re only shooting at me,” his voice was hoarse as they looked up, only a few blocks now from the palace. “You can’t get caught in the crossfire!”
“If you think for one second —”
There was a momentary pause as all the unseen riflemen seemed to need to reload simultaneously, causing Anastasia and Mikhail to duck into a nearby alley for a moment’s security.
“Listen to me,” he grabbed Anastasia by the shoulders. “I can’t have them shooting you, do you understand me? The people will need you. On my count, I want you to run like hell towards the palace.”
“Are you crazy?!” Anastasia slapped him on the chest. “I won’t leave you! I won’t —“
“You have to! I will catch up with you, Ipromise.”They both stood still for a moment as they stared at one another, their chests heaving with exertion and fear.
“How can you promise that? What if they shoot you?”
“Then I’ll find you in the next life, my Anya.” Mikhail pulled Anastasia closer to him before she could respond, crushing her into a kiss that was all heat and consuming passion.
Anastasia wished with all of her body that she couldn’t taste the fear in him as well. Mikhail released her with a look on his face that Anastasia couldn’t decipher. She tried to read the look in his eyes as he suddenly pushed her out into the open street.
Anastasia had no time to react.That fucking bastard!
As soon as she was out in the open, her survival instincts kicked in, and she sprinted. Mikhail knew this and forced her hand, driving them in separate directions.
For a few mere seconds, there were no sounds — no gunshots, just the sound of Anastasia’s feet slapping against the pavement as she ran. She could see the gates of the palace now, just out of reach.
They didn’t even know if the shooting would stop once they got there, but it was the closest thing they had to cover.
A single gunshot rang out.
Anastasia froze, her feet coming to a complete stop as her momentum nearly drove her onto the ground. She turned around and saw that Mikhail had emerged from the alleyway.
They were shooting at him again as he started running through the street, purposefully moving in and out of doorways. He took a less direct route to the palace, moving at almost a jog and not a run.
He’s distracting them.Anastasia felt her chest clench.He’s offering himself up as bloody fucking bait until I get to the palace.
Whoever had sent the shooters, it was true: Mikhail was their target, not Anastasia.
I’ll be damned if he’s the only one who gets to play this game.Anastasia’s mind turned to violence. She had had enough arms raised at her over the years.
If Mikhail wanted her to use her magic, then she was going to use it. Her hands flew up on their own accord, the magic already sparking between them.
“Let’s see what else you can do,” she whispered to the sparks as they rose into flames on her command. She flicked her wrists forward, and the telltale shockwave of magic spread out from all around her.
It shattered a window nearby, and she could’ve sworn she heard a hidden gunman falling over in a second-floor apartment. She warped her magic, twisting it until the air spun in a golden circle in front of her.
It took everything in her to push the magic forward, to send itawayfrom her as she manipulated it.
Time seemed to slow down. Her magic went hurtling down the street until it wrapped itself around Mikhail — as if it was all too willing to rush to Mikhail’s place in her stead. He stopped moving, looking up with wild eyes as he saw Anastasia three blocks away holding her hands up.
Mikhail didn’t even have a moment to panic as the magic wrapped all around his body, enveloping him; his vision was like looking through gold-colored glasses.
The magic held for a few precious seconds and then — another shot. Mikhail flinched at the sound and held his breath, closing his eyes… sure that he was hit while standing still. One second. Two.
He slowly flickered his eyes open and realized that nothing had hit him.
A second gunshot.
A third.
