Betrayed by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #5)(17)

I rounded the corner of the palace, following the path along the side of the massive structure so I could head to the back. There was an excellent view of Solantha Bay from the rear of the Palace. I never got tired of looking at Firegate Bridge—the magical red metal shimmered mysteriously beneath the twinkling stars, drawing the eye away from the ugliness of Prison Isle that stood in the middle of the bay. I wondered how many Resistance soldiers still languished there, awaiting their grim fate.

Sunaya! a familiar voice shouted in my head, and I jumped, eyes widening. It sounded a hell of a lot like Roanas, my dead mentor. Sunaya, move!

“What?” I said, confused, but my body automatically stepped to the side. As it did, a flaming object whizzed past my ear, missing me by an inch. Panic burst in my chest, and I jumped out of the way as the bomb hit the ground. Even so, the explosion tossed me like a rag doll, and I went flying several feet before landing hard in a row of rhododendron bushes planted along the palace wall.

“Fuck!” I clapped my hands against my ringing ears as I struggled to sit up. The grass had caught fire, and the conflagration was quickly spreading toward the bushes. Taking a deep breath, I focused as best I could, then aimed my hand toward the flames and spoke a Loranian incantation Iannis had taught me. A jet of water blasted from my palm, and I swung my arm back and forth, dousing the fire as quickly as possible.

A magical alarm had gone off as soon as the bomb exploded, and I heard shouts from the Palace, as well as footsteps pounding through the grass. I’d just finished putting out the fire when several mages clad in red robes rushed around the corner—our new guards. Iannis hadn’t found a suitable replacement as of yet for Privacy Guard, so he had hired low-level mages for the task.

“Miss Baine!” the one in the lead panted, skidding to a stop in the wet, burnt grass. His narrow face had gone stark white, his brown eyes round with shock and horror. “What happened here?”

I looked down at my clothes, which were completely ruined by the smoke and flames, then over my shoulder. My eyes narrowed at the sight of a broken length of pipe lying amongst the scorched vegetation. I crossed over to where it stood, ignoring my shaky legs and my wildly beating heart.

“I think this is a bomb, or at least what remains of it,” I muttered, crouching down to examine the object.

“Bomb?” the guard echoed in disbelief. I poked at the jagged piece of pipe. It was still boiling hot despite being soaked with cold water. My nose wrinkled at the scent of gunpowder, a scent I was becoming more familiar with now that the Resistance had begun using firearms. “Who in the world would dare to bring a bomb into Solantha Palace?”

“I don’t know.” I glanced up at the row of second-story windows. One of them was open, the curtains flapping gently in the ocean breeze, and I pointed at it. “But whoever it was, they snuck right past you. And they had a perfect shot at me through that window.”



Later, I sprawled on my four-poster bed, staring up at the canopy as I tried to relax. But it was hard to calm my racing mind after narrowly escaping death… especially considering the way it had happened.

Had it really been Roanas’s voice I’d heard, warning me away from the bomb? Or had I imagined it? This wasn’t the first time I’d heard voices, but until my recent conversation with Resinah, the first mage and the mouthpiece of the Creator, disembodied voices had been few and far between in my life. I’d mostly thought of them as figments of my imagination… but after all I’d been through, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

It would be just like Roanas to choose to transform into a guardian spirit in the afterlife, rather than be reborn. A smile touched my lips. It was comforting, the idea that he might be still out there, watching over me.

The entrance to the hidden passage creaked open, and I sat up to watch Iannis duck through the narrow doorway. A sigh of relief passed my lips before I could stop it—I’d been worried I wouldn’t get to see him tonight.

“I wish we’d been able to locate the attacker.” Frustration simmered in Iannis’s voice as he crossed the room and kicked off his shoes. The sheets rustled a little as he settled onto the bed next to me. “I don’t understand how they were able to evade us.”

“Neither do I,” I said, clenching the bed sheets in my hands. I’d rushed up to the open window as quickly as possible, hoping I could catch the assassin, or at least his scent. The window had been in an unused guestroom, which, unfortunately, had reeked of sulfur, masking the other scents in the room. It had been impossible to tell which of the human scents I’d caught had been there most recently, due to the gunpowder’s stench.

At my suggestion, we’d immediately called all the palace staff together for an inspection. Fenris and I had checked them for any sulfurous odor—surely, if the room smelled so strongly of it, the assassin would as well. But the majority of the staff had already gone home at the end of the day shift, and none of those who remained on duty smelled like sulfur. A thorough search of the Palace and grounds proved equally fruitless. Whoever the would-be assassin was, they’d been fast as well as clever.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” I reached out to squeeze his upper arm. “You’ve been neck deep in meetings, phone calls, and who knows what else. You can’t be expected to be on the lookout for bombers too.”

“No, but my guards should,” Iannis said, his tone almost a growl. He scooted closer to me, took my face in his hands, and stared at me for a long moment. “I insisted you live here so you would be safe. It is unconscionable that I have not been able to keep that promise.”