Page 29 of A Storm in Every Heart (Enchanted Legacies #2)

“I’m going to search the woods,” I announce, stepping irreverently over Elio’s dead body and marching toward the nearest door.

“I’ll go with you,” Jett says firmly. He seems far more worried now than he did before finding the emissary, and I don’t dare ask what he’s thinking. My head is already fucked enough as it is, thinking of all the possible things that could have happened to Odessa.

We burst out of the train car and onto the platform.

Jett and I don’t speak as we look over the rows of abandoned benches and forlorn luggage.

Instinctively, we split up, covering more ground; he veers left toward the baggage carts while I sprint toward the edge of the platform where a line of wilted hedges marks the border between civilization and forest.

I’m moving through a fever dream, but my body won’t let me slow down. My mind races as fast as I run. Where’s Dessa? Was she taken? Did she run? Is she hurt?

At the far end of the platform, beyond a toppled cart piled with crates and barrels, something shifts. For half a second I think it’s an animal—a dog or maybe a bird—but then it moves again.

A man in blue lurches upright from behind a set of dusty lockers near the ticket booth. He staggers forward two steps before collapsing against a post, leaving behind a dark smear on the painted wood. The blue uniform is instantly familiar—I have one like it myself back at the Ashwater estate.

Jett spots him too, calling out in alarm. I’m closer, so I shout first and tear across the platform at full speed.

The guard lifts his head at my voice. He looks barely conscious; his face is pale beneath streaks of dirt and blood, one side contorted in pain or confusion.

He blinks once, twice, as if he can’t quite process what he’s seeing.

His hand shakes as he fumbles for something at his belt—a weapon, maybe—but it drops limply to his side when he recognizes me.

“Lord Kastian,” he pants.

I don’t recognize this particular soldier, but I’m not surprised he knows my name if he’s spent any time at the barracks in Storia.

I skid to a halt beside him just as his knees buckle again and he slides down onto the flagstones.

There’s a brutal gash running from his cheekbone to jaw, and blood seeps through his fingers as he presses them hard against his face.

“Kas,” Jett pants as he catches up from behind me, “is he?—?”

“He’s alive,” I say grimly. “Barely.”

My hands are already moving without thinking—I press a hand to the soldier’s cheek, feeling the warmth of magic glow beneath my fingers.

I’ve always been good at healing magic—it’s one of the things that Hydratta is known for, along with conjuring things out of thin air. I really need more time to heal effectively though, and I’m too impatient to wait long.

“There,” I mutter after a minute. “That should stop the bleeding at least.”

“Thanks,” the soldier coughs. “I appreciate it.”

“What happened here?” I demand.

“Pirates,” he rasps.

“Pirates?” Jett asks, sounding skeptical. “You mean bandits?”

The soldier shakes his head and winces at the movement. “No, I mean pirates. Don’t know what they were doing here.”

“How do you know it was pirates?” I ask.

“Just looked like it, plus they called their leader ‘Captain,’ and I heard one of them say something about ‘going back to the ship.’”

“Where were they from? Hydratta?”

His brow wrinkles. “I’m not sure…Solistine, I think.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“It was strange. They were wearing Solistinian colors—lots of yellow and orange—but they had the wrong accents.”

“What did they look like?” Jett asks.

The soldier shrugs. “I don’t know—mostly men? I think I saw one woman with them.”

“No,” Jett corrects. “I mean skin and hair colors. Did they look like me?” He gestures at his own dark hair and golden skin. “Or darker like Kastian?”

The soldier shakes his head. “Mostly white with brown or blonde hair. Without the Solistinian clothing, I would have assumed they were from Vernallis.”

“Not from Thermia?” I clarify. “Their population is mostly fair-haired and pale too.”

He shakes his head. “No, Thermians are usually tall. These men were average.”

Jett and I exchange glances. He shakes his head, clearly not understanding this any more than I do.

At the moment, I don’t really care who these pirates were, just where they are and if they have Odessa.

Obviously thinking along the same lines, Jett bends down to the soldier’s eye level. “Did you see Lady Odessa?”

He nods. “She gave me her horse. The emissary from Hydratta was with her.”

“He’s dead,” I grunt.

The soldier looks alarmed. “I didn’t see her after that. I think I got knocked out.”

I let out a breath. He clearly lost consciousness and probably only survived because whoever hit him thought he was dead.

Jett stands straight again and catches my gaze, jerking his head to the side like he wants to talk privately. We walk a few feet from the man and drop our voices so he can’t hear.

“I think he’s confused,” I growl.

“Me too,” Jett agrees, “I think it’s odd that he would think they were from Solistine based on their clothes, unless it was really obvious. It’s not like the entire kingdom dresses exclusively in yellow and orange. That sounds almost intentional.”

I nod and have to swallow a growl of frustration. I agree with him, but that brings us no closer to finding Odessa.

“Let’s assume for a minute that they took her,” Jett muses.

The growl I’ve been holding back bubbles up from my throat, and Jett looks at me with alarm. “Easy. I’m just saying, let’s assume for a minute that this was all about kidnapping Odessa, and that’s why the emissary was dead but her compartment wasn’t ransacked.”

Deep breath in…

Deep breath out…

I force myself to remain calm enough to speak. “I just said the other day that she’s at risk of abduction. If I were going to try to get Daemon to pay a ransom, I’d choose Odessa.”

“Not Alix?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, because then he’d fucking murder whoever did it and anyone else in a ten-mile radius. If they kidnapped Odessa, then he’d still do everything possible to get her back, but there’s a slight chance the kidnappers would survive.”

A very, very slight chance.

Practically none at all, because I would fucking kill them myself.

“Agreed,” Jett says thoughtfully. “I think we should go to the harbor. It’s the only lead that makes sense, and if that soldier heard them talking about getting back on a ship.”

I nod tightly. I don’t feel good about the plan, but I don’t think I’ll feel good about anything until I know exactly where Odessa is. At least this plan feels like doing something. If I don’t do something soon, I’m going to explode.

“Our horses are over there,” I say, walking back over to the soldier. “Can you ride?”

The man looks up at me and tries to sit up straighter. “Give me a minute, but yeah, probably.”

“Take the horses and go back to the estate. Tell Daemon what happened.”

“Kas, we need the horses if we’re going to get to the harbor,” Jett says.

I shake my head. “It’ll take too long.”

“Well then, what?—”

He stops mid-sentence, his eyes widening as my wings slowly stretch and unfurl from my back. I stretch them wide, feeling the tension release from each joint, and give them a gentle shake.

I have to go find Odessa—wherever she went. Hydratta, anywhere in Ellender, or the bottom of the fucking ocean…