animals.
“A red skull means it’s extremely dangerous, Kitty. One of my friends was a potions apprentice. So much as a tiny drop leaks out of that bottle—whatever it is—and we could all be dead.”
“Shh!” They were completely coated now—she couldn’t see Fred or the animals. She felt Rosie lean up against her leg.
“This stuff really works,” Fred said. “Who is this friend of yours?”
“Shh!” Kyra repeated, and squeezed his arm to silence him.
In moments, the man in black came around the corner. He crouched low, scanning the ground. Kyra heard Fred’s sharp intake of breath.
The man moved like a spider toward them.
Dartagn.
Still on her trail. That was bad.
Fred held Kyra tightly in his arms, so close she could feel his breath against her face.
Dartagn drew nearer.
He stopped on the path beside the fat tree they hid behind, his mustache drooping with wet, peering intently at the ground. Their footprints?
Kyra squinted. There must have been something there, or he wouldn’t have been looking.
Dartagn began inching off the trail, heading toward them. He paused and stooped down, studying the earth.
Less than a foot away. If he reached out, he’d touch their legs.
He looked back up, staring blindly at where they were standing. He leaned forward, his hand reaching toward them.
Tup-tup, tup-tup. Tup-tup, tup-tup.
The sound of many feet marching came down the trail.
Dartagn paused, hand outstretched.
Abruptly, he stood and jogged off in the other direction.
Kyra relaxed into Fred’s arms. Somehow, when he couldn’t see her, it seemed okay to let herself lean into him. Just a
little bit.
The Tup-tup, tup-tup grew louder.
The first soldiers came around the bend—two men across, row after row of soldiers, until the long line of royal blue filed past Kyra and Fred. An endless procession of blue coats and black boots; glowing, poison-coated weapons strapped across their backs. A squadron of the King’s Army, members of the main ground fighting force.
Finally, the last of the army marched down the trail.
Fred’s forehead pressed against Kyra’s, and they stood together for a moment, completely still as the Tup-tup, tup- tup faded.
“Why is the army patrolling the woods around Wexford, Kitty?”
“I don’t know,” Kyra lied, glad they were still invisible, glad he couldn’t see the expression on her face.
“Why were you hiding from that man in the king’s black?”
“I wasn’t! It’s just—he was creepy! That mustache!”
It was the last thing she said to him before she invisibly swooped down, groped for his boots, and pulled the laces loose.
As she heard him stumble and stop with a “Kitty, hold on a minute, my laces are untied,” she took off running down the path, Rosie clutched in her arms.
K YRA RAN UNTIL HER breath was short, until Rosie squirmed uncomfortably in her arms, until Fred’s voice calling for her was just a small, faraway sound. Eventually she couldn’t hear him at all, and she slowed her pace.
The rain began pouring down again, washing away the last remnants of the cloaking charm.
Outside the city, Kyra slipped under a large dense fir tree to wait out the downpour. Surrounded by the sharp scent of pine, she wrapped her arms around her knees, Rosie nestled between her legs and chest. The tiny pig looked up, then tucked her chin in and sighed contentedly.
Just then, the sky turned black and the rain bloodred. Where it hit the ground, dark pools of coppery blood steadily rose until they filled Kyra’s vision. She coughed, choking on the bloody mist in the air. And then, in moments, the rain disappeared again. Just as all her other flashes of Sight had.
Kyra covered her eyes and slumped against the tree. The bloody scene revealed in her Sight hadn’t taken place yet—and she had to make sure it never did. That’s why she would do anything she had to—even abandon a new friend, even kill an old friend—to stop her vision from coming
“A red skull means it’s extremely dangerous, Kitty. One of my friends was a potions apprentice. So much as a tiny drop leaks out of that bottle—whatever it is—and we could all be dead.”
“Shh!” They were completely coated now—she couldn’t see Fred or the animals. She felt Rosie lean up against her leg.
“This stuff really works,” Fred said. “Who is this friend of yours?”
“Shh!” Kyra repeated, and squeezed his arm to silence him.
In moments, the man in black came around the corner. He crouched low, scanning the ground. Kyra heard Fred’s sharp intake of breath.
The man moved like a spider toward them.
Dartagn.
Still on her trail. That was bad.
Fred held Kyra tightly in his arms, so close she could feel his breath against her face.
Dartagn drew nearer.
He stopped on the path beside the fat tree they hid behind, his mustache drooping with wet, peering intently at the ground. Their footprints?
Kyra squinted. There must have been something there, or he wouldn’t have been looking.
Dartagn began inching off the trail, heading toward them. He paused and stooped down, studying the earth.
Less than a foot away. If he reached out, he’d touch their legs.
He looked back up, staring blindly at where they were standing. He leaned forward, his hand reaching toward them.
Tup-tup, tup-tup. Tup-tup, tup-tup.
The sound of many feet marching came down the trail.
Dartagn paused, hand outstretched.
Abruptly, he stood and jogged off in the other direction.
Kyra relaxed into Fred’s arms. Somehow, when he couldn’t see her, it seemed okay to let herself lean into him. Just a
little bit.
The Tup-tup, tup-tup grew louder.
The first soldiers came around the bend—two men across, row after row of soldiers, until the long line of royal blue filed past Kyra and Fred. An endless procession of blue coats and black boots; glowing, poison-coated weapons strapped across their backs. A squadron of the King’s Army, members of the main ground fighting force.
Finally, the last of the army marched down the trail.
Fred’s forehead pressed against Kyra’s, and they stood together for a moment, completely still as the Tup-tup, tup- tup faded.
“Why is the army patrolling the woods around Wexford, Kitty?”
“I don’t know,” Kyra lied, glad they were still invisible, glad he couldn’t see the expression on her face.
“Why were you hiding from that man in the king’s black?”
“I wasn’t! It’s just—he was creepy! That mustache!”
It was the last thing she said to him before she invisibly swooped down, groped for his boots, and pulled the laces loose.
As she heard him stumble and stop with a “Kitty, hold on a minute, my laces are untied,” she took off running down the path, Rosie clutched in her arms.
K YRA RAN UNTIL HER breath was short, until Rosie squirmed uncomfortably in her arms, until Fred’s voice calling for her was just a small, faraway sound. Eventually she couldn’t hear him at all, and she slowed her pace.
The rain began pouring down again, washing away the last remnants of the cloaking charm.
Outside the city, Kyra slipped under a large dense fir tree to wait out the downpour. Surrounded by the sharp scent of pine, she wrapped her arms around her knees, Rosie nestled between her legs and chest. The tiny pig looked up, then tucked her chin in and sighed contentedly.
Just then, the sky turned black and the rain bloodred. Where it hit the ground, dark pools of coppery blood steadily rose until they filled Kyra’s vision. She coughed, choking on the bloody mist in the air. And then, in moments, the rain disappeared again. Just as all her other flashes of Sight had.
Kyra covered her eyes and slumped against the tree. The bloody scene revealed in her Sight hadn’t taken place yet—and she had to make sure it never did. That’s why she would do anything she had to—even abandon a new friend, even kill an old friend—to stop her vision from coming
Similar Books
