Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(111)

“Alfie,” the queen said, her eyes darting between Alfie and Luka. Alfie didn’t know which of them she was addressing. “Explain this.”

“I’ve got it.” Finn waved her hand and Luka transformed back into himself. “There you go,” Finn said as the king and queen stared, wide-eyed. Alfie had never seen the king’s jaw fall slack like this.

In the space of a breath, Paloma had pushed Luka out of the way and stood before Alfie. She drew her hand back and slapped him, sending his head swiveling sideways.

The sting of it was nothing compared with the shame that carved him hollow. Paloma’s face was flushed with anger as a guard moved to restrain her, but Alfie raised a hand to stop him. He’d earned this.

“You foolish boy,” she said. “How could you be so thoughtless—”

Alfie hadn’t the time to utter a single word before Finn moved in front of him, a dagger pressed to Paloma’s throat. “Use your words, not your hands, like a big girl.”

Paloma towered over Finn, regarding her like an insect to be squashed under her shoe.

“Paloma!” Queen Amada thundered. With a wave of her hand the guards parted and she stood before Alfie, the king close behind her. Finn had the good sense to lower the dagger and move back to Alfie’s side. Then, through gritted teeth, the queen said, “Touch my son again and you will regret it for the rest of your days.”

Silence roiled between them.

Her searing gaze still locked on Alfie’s, Paloma stepped away, fury trembling on her skin.

“Alfie,” Queen Amada said, her voice shaking as she took his face in her hands. “Where have you been? What is going on?”

Alfie swallowed, sweat trickling down his temples. What would she do when he told her? Would his mother slap him like Paloma had? Or worse, would she recoil from him, lost to him forever? Whatever the outcome, he would have to take it. “We must prepare for an attack—”

A great splintering sound tore through the ballroom. The floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows were cracking open, fissures spider-webbing through the pains. Bursts of colored glass sprayed into the ballroom as the black-eyed infected crawled through the gaps. Their flesh broke on the shards of glass as they pawed their way into the ballroom. A group of noblewomen standing by the windows tried to run, but they scarcely made it a few paces before the black-eyed creatures seized them by their gowns like scavengers searching for corpses to pick clean. Alfie looked away as the shadows of the guests were torn up from the ground and forced into their convulsing bodies. The guards reacted without hesitation, pulling Alfie, Finn, Paloma, and Luka behind them to be protected, but Alfie knew that he could not stay there. It was he who must do the protecting today.

“Mother, Father,” Alfie said, as screams overtook the ballroom. “Run. Hide. Please.”

“Prince,” Finn said, pointing over his shoulder, her finger shaking. There at the top of the stairs, with a battalion of black-eyed minions behind him, stood Ignacio, smiling down at them.

Alfie turned to Paloma, his heart quaking in his chest. “You know what I’ve done. What needs to be kept safe. I won’t ask you to forgive me, but please protect the vault. Finn and I will hold him off.”

Paloma’s eyes were still hard when she nodded.

Alfie looked at the guardsmen crowding close around them, their swords drawn. “Protect the king and queen! Protect the vault!”

The king, ashen-faced and struck silent, opened his mouth to protest, and the guardsmen refused to let Alfie and Finn step out of their circle of protection.

“I am your crown prince! I caused this,” Alfie said to the guards before meeting his parents’ eyes. “Let me take care of it.”

A moment of tense silence passed between the prince and his parents. His father’s chest heaved before he looked at the queen. After a moment’s hesitation, she gave a tacit nod. The guardsmen parted, letting Alfie and Finn run into the chaos of the ballroom.





35


The Hands of a God


“Luka! Come with me!” Paloma shouted, grabbing him by the arm as Alfie and the thief dashed away.

Luka fought against her pull. “Let me go!” He wrenched his arm free of Paloma’s grasp and burst through the guardsmen that surrounded them. Behind Luka was the far wall of the ballroom and the royal thrones; before him the ballroom stretched in a chaos of fleeing guests and shrieks of fear. He ran forward in the direction Alfie had gone in but could not spot him. As he dashed against the current of fleeing guests, black-eyed monsters leaped on people like rabid dogs, either killing them where they stood or forcing darkness down their throats. Luka could only stare, his hearing muffled to a dull roar.

Fear wriggled through him, stitching its jagged patterns onto his skin. He turned in a circle, searching for Alfie in the screaming crowds. Had these monsters already taken him? Had fate been cruel enough to let him see Alfie again for a moment, only to have him taken again?

A hand gripped his shoulder and Luka started. The shrieks of the ballroom tore through him once more.

“Master Luka!” a palace guard shouted. “Come with me, the royal family—”

A black-eyed woman tackled the guard to the ground with a growl.

“No!” Luka shouted. Forgetting his newfound strength, he gripped the woman by the shoulder and threw her clear across the ballroom. She slammed against the opposite wall. Luka winced as her twitching body slid from the wall to the ground. Broken bones aside, she was already trying to drag herself forward on all fours. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, hadn’t wanted to. But he had to do something.