Page 6 of Kiss of Smoke

She held my gaze for a long moment, reaching out to squeeze my hand, and I knew what she was thinking.Leave that man. Save yourself.

Not a chance in hell would I leave Robin.

I followed Gwyn outside, and we both waited on the dark sidewalk out front until we heard Carabosse sliding the newly-formed latches of wood and vine in place. Only once I was sure she was safely locked up did I move.

“Where’s this safe house?” I asked quietly, following Gwyn to his bike.

He settled me behind him, gently squeezing one of my thighs as I drew closer and wrapped my arms around him.

“Robin’s house,” he said, pitching his voice so low that a pixie would have to be clinging to my hair to hear it. “It’s one of the most protected places in Avilion. The magic there is so old that even the Hunters having trouble flying over it; the Souls won’t be able to break through.”

I nodded as he started the bike, kicking it into gear and flying up over the street.

The wind whipped through my hair, driving it back out of my face again. The silent streets of Mothwing Falls fell away as Gwyn turned towards Thornwood.

The quickest way there was directly over downtown Avilion, where we’d have a literal bird’s eye view of the shattered palace. I squeezed Gwyn tighter and leaned in, shouting, “Go over it! Let’s see if they found anything!”

He turned his head just enough for me to see his disapproving look, and I patted his stomach. “The job’s not done until it’s done, Gwyn.”

“You’re not going down there, so don’t get ideas,” he called back. “It’s just a look on the way.”

That was fine by me. I just wanted visual confirmation that Robin and Jack were okay.

But as the gleaming ruins came into view, a mess that looked like an enormous fist had descended from the sky and wiped the palace from one corner of Avilion and across the map in a fit of rage, I got more than that.

The Garda were still combing the ruins, working in teams to shift aside massive slabs of glass, but there were two familiar figures there: a dark knight and a light knight, tearing through the wreckage and doing the work of twenty Fae each.

“Dad,” I whispered, my heart clenching. I’d thought Noctifer would remain in Annwyn to protect Queen Nicnevin.

I didn’t get much more time to acknowledge his presence.

Main Street was lit up below with floodlights, and most of the street was blocked off with tangled vines and yellow Garda tape. The Garda themselves were working to hold back a tide of angry Fae from breaching the perimeter.

And there was a familiar white van parked outside the barricade, the lights gleaming off autumnal hair. Oriande Snowdrop held her mic close to her mouth, her lips moving rapidly as she gesticulated at the destruction.

I thought it was my eyes playing tricks on me as a manhole cover slid aside in the street near the van, revealing a crescent sliver of darkness.

When a pale hand crept out, I knew it wasn’t.

“Descend!” I shrieked, watching in horror as several hooded, masked men crept silently out of the Undercity’s sewer, taking cover behind the news van.

Gwyn looked down sharply, and I almost heard him grit his teeth when he said, “No.”

Every muscle in my body locked up as the men poured from behind the van, shoving the cameraman aside. His recorder fell off his shoulder, cracking on the pavement.

In houses all over Avilion, people would be watching the city tumble sideways like they’d been caught in an earthquake before the broadcast cut off.

Oriande’s scream was so high and cutting I heard it even up here, a razor-blade of a sound.

They grabbed her roughly, ripping clothes, tearing her hair from its neat chignon as they dragged her towards the manhole.

“They’re taking her!” My voice locked up despite what my heart was screaming: they were going to drag her through those dark, moldy tunnels and drive her onto the thorns of the Blood Tree—mytree.

“I’m not risking your life to save a reporter,” he retorted, revving the bike, but he paused.

“Please, Gwyn,” I whispered. “They’re going to kill her in the dark.”

The moment hung between us, then he swore again and angled the bike downwards.

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