Page 47 of The Poisoned King (Impossible Creatures #2)

Christopher in the Forest

Christopher was moving as fast as he could through the labyrinth of unfamiliar trees, deeper and deeper into the forest, when a voice rang out.

“Who’s there? Halt, in the name of the regent!” A patrolling soldier, tall and glossy-haired, emerged from the trees.

Christopher was grateful for the dark, and for his height. He wouldn’t pass for an adult in the light, but in the shadows he could be a soldier.

“On the private service of the regent,” said Christopher. He gestured to his uniform.

“I don’t know you,” said the man. “I know all the regent’s men.”

“He is on a special mission. Better not to ask questions,” said the goat head of the chimaera.

“Bessst leave,” said the snake. “Or elssse.”

“Or else what?” said the soldier. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“What’s the worst thing you can think of?” said the lion head.

“Now double it,” said the goat.

The man gave a grunt and stepped back, and his gaze landed on the gaganas. “Gaganas! Those birds attacked me and my men! The regent has banished them from the palace!”

Christopher suddenly understood. “You’re Samvel. You’re the man who tried to kill Anya.”

Samvel rolled his upper lip. “And who are you? How do you know my name?” He drew his sword with a flourish—but Christopher had no desire to waste time on this elegant thug.

“Can you bite him without killing him?” Christopher asked the snake. “Just enough to knock him out?”

“Yesss.”

“Then now’s the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

—

They moved deeper into the forest.

“We’re close now,” said Gallia. The scent of growing things rose around them. Christopher thought of Anya, living in among these trees with her dozens of birds. He thought of her now in the palace, facing so much terror alone.

Anya might look like a doll the world had chosen to play with, but that was deceptive.

She was furious and generous and loving.

She was like an arrow in flight. Her friendship felt rare—not because she was a princess, but because she seemed to offer friendship in the way that a bird does; cautiously, and then all at once.

It was like being befriended by an insistence.

There was a rustle in the bushes to the left of him.

Christopher froze; but it was only a long-toothed avanc, darting by in the gloaming.

He waited for it to pass, still thinking of Anya.

He liked her single-mindedness and her eagerness.

He liked her hunger for justice and her fury.

It had made a difference, Christopher thought, having her in the caves of the red-winged dragons.

It made a difference to have someone to move through the world with again.

A friend changed the feel of the universe.

He loved and admired her bravery most of all. You could trust a person who loves something enough to fight death for it.

Suddenly the hour began to toll across the island. The sound reached him among the trees, and it hit him like a blow.

“She will have drunk the poison,” he said. “It’s done.”

Gallia cawed a low misering cry. Christopher laid a hand on the back of the chimaera. Dread swept over him, and he spat bile onto the forest leaves. Death was somewhere near.

He drew in breath. She had left him a task. If he failed, it would all be for nothing.

“Here,” said Gallia. “In among those trees.”

He put the sphinx tooth in his mouth and whistled. A flicker of something red and gold came sweeping out of the forest toward him.