Page 131 of Hellbound

Her spine went rigid.

A single crystalline tone pierced through her mind, like marble and silver combined.

She could feel his shadow pressing over her and hear the scrape of his boot on the wet river stone.

“Lady Sevrant…What are you doing here?”

Ksenia cursed, her face buried against Petra’s hair.

She had allowed Petra to put herself in danger.

She should have never kept up their friendship after rescuing her from the hedge maze.

Because now, Petra was dead in her arms.

Bohdan kept his sword drawn, pointed at Ksenia. If he killed her now, she would consider it divine retribution.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she dragged in a shuddering breath. Petra’s death would be for nothing if she lost the game now. If not for her, she would’ve never gotten so far.

Without Petra, she would’ve never stolen the sword from the armory.

Without Petra, she would’ve been caught by the castle guard in the hedge maze.

Without Petra, she would’ve been drowned by Archbishop Serafin.

Ksenia’s eyes were haunted as she looked up at Bohdan, following the silvery shaft of his blade to his cold green eyes.

His gaze swung to the small figure she clutched at her chest. He swallowed, his brows drawn together.

“Explain yourself.”

Tell only little pieces of the truth, instructed Vornaya.

Seconds stretched into minutes before Ksenia spoke, low and hollow. “I was here for service, and for confession—but I heard a commotion outside.”

Bohdan kept his blade level, his jaw tight.

“I arrived outside to see that Archbishop Serafin was wounded and falling, and he pulled Petra over in his panic.”

“Who wounded him?” His dark green eyes searched hers with an intensity that could have broken a normal person.

“I didn’t see. I dove in to try to save them.” Her body trembled harder as a frigid breeze swept through the ravine, her clothes frozen to her skin along with Petra’s rapidly cooling body.

She swallowed the bitterness in her throat at the lie she had spun.

“Petra…” His voice was soft and somber as he closed the distance between them and laid a hand on the small girl’s head.

A rustle of wool. A warm sensation settled on her shoulders as he cloaked her with his own garment, his hand lingering on her back a moment longer than usual.

Her chest tightened, but she kept her eyes forward.

“Why were you here?” She masked the undertone of suspicion in her voice with chattering teeth.

“I was at the bridge when I saw Archbishop Serafin fall, his suspected killer diving in with a bloodied dagger in their hand.” Caromir. “Head to the infirmary,” he commanded. “I’ll stay and investigate the crime scene.”

The hellbound dagger was blessedly missing from her side, but she couldn’t let him find it.

“And I’ll see to it that Petra is taken care of.” Bohdan’s voice was soft.