“No.”
“That wil make it harder to break, but not impossible. Are you sure it was meant for you?”
“Isabeau said it had her mark on it.”
“Are you accusing Isabeau?” Magda asked, incensed. “Do you see what royal loyalty is worth,” she spat.
“I never accused Isabeau,” I ground out. “I didn’t even know it was her mark until she told me.”
But she was already swinging her fist at me and it nearly col ided. Disgusted surprise slowed my reflexes. She clipped my ear and I swung back and around. I didn’t punch her, as punching girls, even crazy ones, wasn’t cool. But I did trip her and I felt damn good about it.
“What the hel is your problem now?” I yel ed at her.
“Isabeau is too good for you!” she yel ed back. “And you’l take her away from us to live in your stupid royal house.” I was too stunned to duck the next blow. I barely felt it.
“I’m taking Isabeau home?” I echoed. “She forgot to tel me that part.”
“Just like she forgot to tel me the bones said she’d find her mate in the royal family.” She tried to snap my kneecap with her foot but I shoved her away.
“You’re nuts,” I told her. I couldn’t deny I was intrigued though, couldn’t deny I liked the idea of Isabeau promising herself to me and me to her. Even though I knew she was too prickly and independent to love me just because her shamanka told her to.
Stil .
“Wil you read the bones for me?” I asked Kala, ducking an empty urn Magda threw at my head. It broke into pieces against the wal . One of the dogs chased the shards, hoping for a treat.
Kala wheezed a laugh.
“Come here, boy.” She pul ed a handful of painted bones out of a pouch at her belt. They looked like a cross between rune stones and spirals. I couldn’t decipher them at al . She handed them to me. “Shake them in your cupped hands and then toss them on the ground between these two crystals.” She thunked down two crystals.
“Kala, you’re not wel ,” Magda protested. “The royal pain can wait.”
She had a point, much as I hated to admit it.
Kala only waved that away. “Throw!” she barked at me. I threw mostly out of reflex, the sharp whip of her voice startling me. Why were al the old ladies I knew so damn scary?
The bones tumbled and scattered on the dusty ground.
To Kala apparently they told a story. Some of the other Hounds edged closer, craning their heads for a better look.
There were murmurs, a gasp. Magda scowled as if I’d just kicked a puppy. Kala nodded smugly.
“You see now? You al see. This is the boy.” I didn’t see anything at al .
“You’l run with the dogs,” she assured me, as if that was helpful. Then she coughed, bloody spittle on her lips.
“Leave her alone now,” Magda snapped at me, gathering the
“Leave her alone now,” Magda snapped at me, gathering the stones up for Kala and turning her back to block me.
CHAPTER 14
LOGAN
I found Isabeau sitting on a rocky outcrop under the stars and a stunted pine tree. I climbed up toward her, dislodging pebbles under my boots. There was a behemoth sitting on her left, al fur and immensity.
“What the hel is that?” I asked.
“It’s a dog,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Isabeau, that’s not a dog, that’s a moose.” She half smiled. “He’s an English mastiff. His name is Ox-Eye.”
Ox-Eye lifted his head. I’d seen smal er horses.
“Ox-Eye because he’s part ox?” I asked, lowering into a crouch beside her.
“No, like the daisy.”
“You named this beast after a flower?”
She scratched his ear fondly. “He’s rather gentle. Très sympathique.”
“Sure he is,” I said doubtful y. She was rubbing a piece of faded silk between her thumb and forefinger. It was frayed at the edges. “Good luck charm?” I asked softly.
She paused, slipped the cloth into her sleeve. “Yes, I suppose so. I thought I lost it a long time ago.”
“What is it, Isabeau?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Isabeau.” I didn’t know how I knew exactly, but I was sure there was something else going on. She bit her lower lip, final y looking like an eighteen-year-old girl.
“I was wearing that good luck charm, as you cal it, the day I died. The day I was turned and left for dead, I should say.” She sounded angry, bitter, and fragile in a way I hadn’t thought was possible for her. It made me want to find the bastard and rip his head right off his shoulders. “I haven’t seen it since that night.” I frowned. “Where did you find it?”
“In the woods outside your house,” she replied. “When we were tracking the Host.”
“Shit.”
“Oui. It was left for me.”
“By?”
“Greyhaven. Or so I assume. I was wearing it the night he kil ed me.”
I sat back. “That’s why you lost it when they said his name in the woods last night.”
“Oui,” she said again, grimly. “He’s back. And now I can final y kil him.”
“Isabeau, he’s what, three hundred years old? Four hundred?
”
“So?”
“So, you’re a newborn, however long he might have left you in your grave.” I real y, real y wanted to rip his head off. “You’re not strong enough yet.”