Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(103)

It wasn’t.

As her flying leap began to arc downward, she knew she would be a hair short. She would fall into the boiling water just a few steps away from solid land. But then Alfie scrambled to his feet and leaned over the edge of the moat, snatching her from the air just before she fell to her death.

Together they tumbled down onto the dirt ground, rolling to a stop with Finn on top of him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, his arms tight around her back.

Pressing her palms against the ground on either side of his head, she pushed herself up and peered down at him, her heart pounding in her chest. “Prince, are you all right?”

His eyes still closed, Alfie’s lips quirked up. “I’m not a dumpling. That’ll do for now.”

He looked up at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Finn felt the rumble of the laugh in his chest before she heard it. It struck her that right now, even with his skin made sallow from Sombra’s magic and dirt in his hair from their fall, he still looked better than when she’d first met him in his clean cloak and mask. He looked best when he laughed.

Finn pulled out of his arms and stood, holding her hand out for him to take.

He took her hand and let her help him up. “At least I got to do the saving for once.”

She reached up to brush the dirt off his shoulders. “Don’t get used to it.”

Xiomara dashed to their side, pointing back at the Clock Tower.

Black-eyed prisoners and guards were surging out of the prison to give chase. With no bridge, they leaped recklessly into the water and tried to swim through, their skin bleeding and boiling. The infected on the roof threw themselves off foolishly only to fall into the moat or splatter on the ground below.

“Let’s go!” Finn said. “You two in the back.” She shoved Alfie toward the carriage door when he went to man the head of the carriage instead.

“What? But I—”

“Prince, you’re half dead. Get in the back and rest. And keep an eye on her.” Finn looked pointedly at Xiomara as she scrambled into the back of the carriage.

Alfie opened his mouth to protest, but then Ignacio’s voice boomed around them.

“Stop!” Ignacio shouted. He stood on the roof, his eyes locked on Finn’s. Each of the black-eyed monsters pouring out of the prison stopped mid-run, awaiting their master’s word.

“Let them go,” Ignacio said, his voice echoing around them. “Let them warn the pretender rulers of what is to come. Let them tell the people that their true king will soon rise.”

He cocked his head at Finn, a chilling gesture that she knew too well. Then his voice whispered in her ear alone. She could feel his hot breath on her ear though he did not move from the tower roof, Run all you like, Finn. You know I love to hunt you.

A shudder rolled up Finn’s spine.

“Finn—” Alfie began, his voice tight with a concern that made her eyes want to search for the ground. Her throat burning, she shoved him into the carriage and shut the door behind him. She climbed up to the head of the carriage, jerked the reins, and guided the horses forward. She didn’t dare look back, but she knew that Ignacio was watching her.

And smiling.





32


Words Carved in Wood


As Finn took the reins and sent the horses galloping back to San Cristóbal, Alfie sat inside the carriage, his eyes trained on Xiomara. She squirmed uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

Xiomara had saved his life. She could have let that infected man drag him away, but instead she’d grabbed his wrist, her hooded eyes full of fear for him.

To add insult to injury, when they’d been separated she could have run away with the vanishing cloak, absolving herself of any responsibility, but she’d stayed and helped them escape.

She had saved his life. Twice. And Alfie had never felt so fiercely angry and confused.

More than anything he’d wanted her to be a monster, to be worth all the nightmares, all the anxiety, all the what-ifs. He’d wanted her to be uncooperative. And yet she’d proven the opposite. She’d been scared of Alfie but not averse to helping him, saving him.

Alfie hated her for it.

He wanted to fall asleep in the shaking carriage, to regain his strength for the fight ahead, but the turmoil twisting his insides kept him awake. He stared at the girl, his gaze hardening. She looked away from him, her face tight.

Alfie wanted to shake her into anger, into anything but this guilty and inexplicably helpful person. The sorrowful look on her face made him feel guilty for hating her.

Why feel guilt when she took Dez from us? he thought. The only thing I should feel guilty about is letting her take another maldito breath.

Alfie’s hands curled into fists as his anger swelled. He should exact his revenge for what she’d done to him. What she’d done to his family. She deserved it, didn’t she?

A bump in the road lifted the carriage off the ground, turning his stomach as it sped on with loud creaks. Finn’s shrill curse tore him away from the whispers in his mind.

Alfie took a deep breath. He could kill her, he knew he could. But that wasn’t who he was. And it never would be. He thought of Paloma stopping him from hurting this girl before.

Her voice echoed loud in his head, drowning out his thoughts: I know the difference between “could” and “will.” Those words spell the difference between a good man and a bad one. The light and the dark. I know which you turn to.