Crown of Cinders (Imdalind #7)(20)

I stared at her, knowing exactly what she was talking about. I replayed at least four movie scenes in which some sort of Miraculous adrenaline recoveries were featured, and my stomach twisted at the memory. I would help her find it, though I wasn’t going to help her administer it. She was on her own for that one. I drew the line at giant needles.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I said.

Wyn’s face lit up before she bounded away from me, back to the piles of trash from the clinic we were next to.

Well, if she was going to do it herself, I should at least be glad she was using her brain.

“Not too much longer, though,” I told her, careful to keep my voice low. “It’s getting dark.”

She didn’t even seem to hear me, or she pretended not to. I would be dragging her out by her prized T-shirt.

Be careful. No one wants to deal with Wyn after one of her T-shirts gets ripped.

I smiled at the sudden addition of Ilyan’s voice. He seemed as stressed as Wyn.

True. But don’t worry. I’d sooner hit her over the head with a club, I responded, leaning against the damp wall of the alley while Wyn searched. She is a one-woman show. I guess it’s good I make a fine lookout.

You make a fine everything, m?j kamarád.

I giggled, whether I wanted to or not, something not missed by either Ilyan or Wyn.

Ilyan’s sweet emotion filled me as the comforting warmth of his magic did, a gift to go alongside the compliment.

Are you meaning to drown me in sugar?

Anything to keep my mind off the disgusting behavior of these people.

The warmth of his magic left at once, the same stress I felt with the first whisper of our connection coming on strong.

I frowned, not liking the way everything was upsetting him, both of us really.

The infection my darling father had left behind was spreading out of control.

The natives are restless. I … I froze, my words ending as a flare of unfamiliar magic pressed against my back. It was a strain of evil I had felt many times before, running along the stone of the walls and asphalt of the road as someone drew closer.

One of Edmund’s guards and another Trpaslík on watch. Looking for us. For the noise, no doubt.

I knew she had been too loud.

Joclyn? Ilyan asked, fear leaching from him, and for good reason. He could undoubtedly feel it, too.

Now you can be worried.

Nah, I know you can take them, mi lasko. Let Wyn have some fun.

Why does everyone think killing is fun? I asked, my heart moving into a tense storm as I closed my eyes. A clearer image of the two Trpaslíks walking down the main road toward us flooded my mind, their heads bowed in low conversation.

Between Wyn and me, they didn’t stand a chance.

“Wyn,” I hissed, moving toward her before they came any closer.

Wyn looked up with a smirk of enjoyment as she read the map of what was coming. Her own magic sensed the evil approaching.

I might be the only queen in history who didn’t like a good fight.

You are also the only queen in history fighting has been required of, so that is not a good analogy.

Whatever.

We will talk about this later, Ilyan. Right now, I apparently have to supervise Wyn. At least I know she can handle it.

She can more than handle it, m?j kamarád. She can destroy it. Ilyan’s laugh faded away as Wyn bounded right up to me, the wide grin on her face spanning from ear to ear.

“There are two, one for each of us. Are we playing kill or capture?” she asked, pressing her fingers together like an old-school villain. Well, old-school for me, anyway.

“Kill and run. I’d rather not attract any more.”

“Point taken,” Wyn said, popping her knuckles. “As long as I can play a bit.”

Rolling my eyes, I stood in silence with her, the sound of their steps beginning to echo in the alley around us. The low tones of their quick Czech conversation rumbled over the stone in such a way that I was having trouble parsing certain words, no matter how extensive my knowledge of Czech had become as of late.

The closer they moved, the clearer their voices became. The reason for their hushed conversation became clear as I heard something that made me second-guess the impending attack.

“Do you think it will work? Do you think we will be able to dethrone him?”

“It better. After what he did to Edmund, that dirty Drak deserves to die. He deserves a fate worse than the burning he gave him.”

Edmund.

Dirty Drak … Sain.

Burning.

Something about that didn’t make sense. Sain doing something to Edmund and burning? I must not have heard him right.

I moved as close as I dared, my ear toward the street as I listened, staring at Wyn who looked back at me with a mirror of confusion.

We couldn’t kill them, not now. Something had happened, and we needed to know what. From the way my sight was squirming and burning inside of me, I already had an idea.

These two had the piece I was missing.

“The first one to capture wins,” Wyn whispered, her voice low as the power of her magic swelled, the two devils only steps away. “We just need one, after all.”

“Did you hear that?” The deep gruff of the Trpaslíks voice had barely cleared the air before Wyn stepped out from the shadows of the alley, her hands sparking in warning.