Page 52 of Bloodwitch

With a flip of her wrist, Owl unlocked the bolt. Aeduan strode in, drenched and splattering water to the floorboards. “There is trouble,” he said, eyes instantly finding Iseult’s. “You need to leave.”

It was like dropping a cannonball on a frozen pond, yet instead of the ice shattering—instead of Iseult or Owl bursting into movement at Aeduan’s return—the ice did not crack. Nobody moved. Aeduan’s words shivered in the air and stayed there while Owl and Iseult gaped at him from the other side of the bed.

In that odd pause between Aeduan’s declaration and Iseult’s comprehension she realized what a strange tableau must stand before him: Iseult stooped over Owl, Owl in the corner with a knife, and an unconscious man tied to the bed mere paces away.

Then Aeduan moved, and everyone else followed. He shut the door. Owl dropped the knife. And Iseult scrambled around the bed.

“He was following me.” Her words came out garbled and thick. “Th-then I thought he was going to attack, so I a-attacked him first.”

Aeduan simply repeated what he had said before: “You need to leave.” Then he added, words clipped and efficient, “Someone saw you attack him. Soldiers are coming to arrest you. I passed them on my return. I heard them name our room and your face. You and Owl cannot stay here, Iseult. Go to the Monastery. They will protect you.”

Iseult’s breath rushed out. She had known this might be coming. Yet despite that, her mind couldn’t keep up. “How close are they?”

“Minutes away, at most. The damage from the storm has slowed them. You can find horses in the stable, and I will deal with Prince Leopold.”

And there it was again. The cannonball to slam down and thud against the ice.Prince Leopold. Prince. Leopold.Oh goddess save her, what had she done?

As if on cue, a voice thick with sleep drawled out in Cartorran, “Monk Aeduan? Is that you?”

Iseult twirled toward the man. Toward theprince. No more hazy Threads of sleep, but rather turquoise shock and hints of gray fear, spiraling straight into the sky.

“What is the meaning of this?” he began. Then his green eyes fell on Iseult. His expression faltered. “You.”

Iseult had no idea what that meant.You.He had been following her, he had been crouched outside the room, trying to get in—so obviously he knew who she was.

Although, suddenly her earlier theory that he worked for Corlant no longer made sense. Suddenly, she had a thousand questions fighting for space in her brain. Why was he hunting her? Why had he carried a pistol?

No time to ask them. No time to dwell. Soldiers were coming because Iseult had been sostupid.

In a flurry, she finished shoving gear into their packs while Aeduan turned his attention to Owl. The girl had crawled under the bed, her Threads shining with fear.

“Take me with you,” the prince said. No one listened. He strained against his bonds, body half upright beside the bed—and gaze still transfixed on Iseult. “Please,” he said. “Please,Iseult det Midenzi. Take me with you.”

At the sound of her name, cold hardened in Iseult’s lungs. She paused, her pack halfway onto her back and confusion swiping across her face. Her eyes bulged, her lips parted, and with the onslaught of emotion came an onslaught of theories and contradictions.

He must be Mathew’s contact and I’m supposed to meet him.

But then why was he following me? Why not go to the coffee shop?

No, hemustbe working with Eron fon Hasstrel. How else would he know my name?

But why would he work to depose his own uncle, then?

Before Iseult could organize her thoughts into any logical, cohesive order, Threads drifted into the periphery of her magic. Hostile, focused, and bound in a way that suggested they followed the same orders. They filed into the yard outside.

Oh, the Moon Mother hated her indeed. She should never have attacked Leopold—a thrice-damnedprince—and she should never have dragged his body into their room.

She dropped the pack and vaulted for the lantern beside the door. A rough exhale across the flame. “Soldiers,” she told the sudden darkness. “They’ve reached the inn.”

At those words, a rattle took hold of the room. A faint trembling—so subtle at first, Iseult didn’t know what the sound was. Like insect wings or ferns on a breeze. Then she realized it was the glass in the mirror, the glass in the window.

Thenshe realized she had spoken in Nomatsi. Owl had understood, and now the girl’s Threads were pulsing brighter, and then brighter still in a terror that split the shadows of the room. All while the faint, almost invisible Threads of her earth magic tendriled outward, reaching for whatever substance she could control. First the window, then the mirror, and now the sconce that had held the lantern’s flame. How much longer before her magic latched onto the screws and bolts? The bricks and the stones that kept this inn upright? Iseult hadworried she’d burn them all to the ground, but it was far more likely Owl would topple them first.

In moments, Iseult’s vision had adjusted to the darkness. Aeduan now knelt beside the girl. The prince still strained against his bindings, bed creaking, and beneath the shaking glass around them, shouts now trembled through the floorboards. The soldiers were inside the inn.

“I can help you.” It was the prince, his voice and Threads intense with concentration. No panic here, only calm insistence. “I have a gelding in the stable—take him, and I will handle the soldiers.”

“How?” Iseult asked at the same time that Aeduan snapped, “No.”