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Now, he was supposedly working with the crown?
It didn’t add up.
“I want to talk to him,” I decided. I didn’t like how nothing made sense. I needed answers.
“Patience, Moast,” Olivander cautioned. “Just because something’s going on there doesn’t mean it’s what we’re looking for. I wouldn’t be surprised if the king has a dozen different shady deals going on under the table about numerous issues that his council wouldn’t approve of. Let’s keep looking.”
I nodded, knowing he was right. Quilla could be anywhere. The chances that she’d be in the first place I suspected was low. Except I couldn’t ignore the feeling that my uncle knew something about this Graykey locating ritual.
We kept scouring Olivander’s scrolls for days. Then weeks. Whenever he suggested I eat or rest or bathe, or even shave, I merely snapped at him and kept searching for something definitive that would lead us to Quilla.
Whenever I did bother to lie down, I only saw her when I closed my eyes. Sometimes she’d glare at me and threaten to stab me, and I’d grin, enjoying her sass. Sometimes, she’d take my hand and lead me somewhere private, like she had the first time we’d been together.
But most of the time, I saw her beaten and bloody, dying alone and calling out for me, begging, asking why I didn’t help her. Yet, I didn’t know how to even find her.
Soaked with a cold sweat, I gasped awake one night and bolted upright.
Wiping the tormented sleep from my face, I swung my legs over the side of the cot and pushed to my feet. I wandered outside and into a warm, breezeless night.
Looking up at the stars, I wondered if Quilla could see them from wherever she was.
“I’ll find you,” I whispered to the sky. “No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.” I wouldn’t give up until I at least knew she was okay.
“Jesus,” I hissed, scrubbing my hands over my face. I hated this more than I hated anything. This not-knowing and complete loss of control could ruin me. I just needed—
Hearing footsteps storming toward me, I dropped my hands just in time to see a dark shadow barreling from the shadows.
“Hey!” I shouted in warning just before the figure plowed into me, tackling me to the ground.
“Where is she? Where the fuck is she?” a familiar voice demanded, just before I got an eyeful of fiery red hair and then a blade pressed against my jugular.
“Melaina?” I choked in surprise.
“You fucking High Cliff piece of scum,” she snarled. “I left you alone with my niece for one hour—one hour—and look what happened.” The blade bit into my flesh, producing blood. “Now, where’s Quilla?”
“She was supposed to take you to Earth,” I rasped.
“Oh, she brought me the damn amulet you’d been hiding from us. Bastard. Then she told me to go without her because she needed to save you. You. Can you believe that shit?”
“She did what?” I asked, unable to believe Quilla would be so reckless. Or loyal. She had honestly cared about me.
But, dammit, I had told her I’d be okay.
“So where is she?” Melaina demanded.
“I don’t know. They caught her.”
“They caught her? Wrong answer, asshole. I said, where is she?”
I had a sense she really would cut my throat open then, so I kicked her off me and rolled away, just as the door to the cottage flew open, and Olivander stepped outside, lifting a lamp and peering into the dark.
“Indy?”
“I’m fine,” I called, out of breath, just before diving to the side when Melaina screeched like a banshee and leaped toward me again, her dagger raised with deadly intent.
“Um. You sure about that?” the prince asked, not intervening, simply watching as I panted and dodged, trying to avoid being stabbed to death.
“Yep.” I tossed hair out of my eyes and then grunted when Melaina threw the knife and it hit me handle-first right between the legs, doubling me over.
