Page 33 of From London, With Love
He leaned out and closed the windows, then turned back to her. “I’m going to take the brooch down to Ava and see what she thinks. I’ll send Gemma and Dmitri in to sit with you.”
“You’re starting to make me nervous, Malloryn.”
“I’m just being careful.”
Over his shoulder, a shadow began to grow larger through the glass. “Malloryn,” she said, her gaze locking on the blur of movement.
He spun around.
Glass shattered as the gyrfalcon drove through it. Alexandra screamed and thrust a hand up to protect herself, but the creature swept past her. Bronze wings flashed in the light, and she caught a glimpse of clockwork cogs whirring. Not a bird. A device.
With a high-pitched scream, the mechanical bird swooped directly toward Malloryn. He threw the scarab across the room, and the hawk immediately tried to bank, its head turning to track the scarab. It slammed into the wall behind Malloryn and exploded.
Alexandra threw up both arms.
A weight drove into her midriff—Malloryn, she thought—and she slammed into the floor as rubble pelted the pair of them. Heat rolled over her, the wind of its passage whipping her hair free from its neat chignon.
And then the warmth and sound died down, leaving her panting on the floor, listening to the crackle of fire.
“Are you all right?” Malloryn demanded, hauling her to her feet. Flames licked up the far wall, and half her books were on fire.
“My library,” she whispered.
Another bird screeched in the distance.
Both of them looked to the row of windows.
“There’s another one,” he said breathlessly, yanking her toward the door.
Only there was no door. No door, no wall, no means to cross the gaping crevice in the floor. They were both trapped in the half of the room that lay untouched, and she turned her head slowly, finding the little scarab brooch fluttering its way across the floor behind her.
Malloryn’s heel came down upon it with a crunch. “It’s a tracking beacon.”
Another piercing cry echoed through the windows.
“Come on!” he shouted, hauling her toward the enormous chasm in the floor.
“Malloryn!” she screamed.
Sweeping her up in his arms, he sprinted toward the gap and launched the pair of them over it. Guards ran toward them, and she saw a flash of startled faces before Malloryn landed with a jarring thud.
Alexandra spilled from his arms as they tumbled head over heel across the Aubusson carpets. Behind them, another loud, roaring explosion shook the building. The chandelier above her shivered, and several paintings fell from the walls as one of the guards slid to her side and threw himself over her.
“Your Majesty!”
“What happened?”
And Malloryn: “Secure the building. They’re flying explosive devices. I believe I’ve destroyed the beacon summoning them, but we cannot be sure. Shoot down anything that flies toward the palace.”
She turned to stare toward her favorite room. Flames licked up the doorframe, though half the wall was rubble. The rest of the room was gone. Simply gone.
“Are you all right?” asked the man who’d been shielding her.
She looked up into pale blue eyes. It was one of Malloryn’s men. Byrnes, she thought. “I think so.”
The words sounded distant.
“Take the queen to her chambers and set a rotating guard on the door.” Malloryn pushed to his feet, his face stained with soot. “I think I’m going to want to have a word with Prince Ivan.”
