I stalked over and dropped to my knees beside the prince, who hadn’t so much as twitched this whole time.
“Stealing tearstone is one thing.” I gestured at Leonidas. “But what about this? Did you know this was going to happen?”
Penelope reared back as though I had punched her. “Of course not! I never would have come along if I’d known that someone was going to get hurt.” She wet her lips. “Is he . . . dead?”
I pressed my fingers up against his neck. Thump-thump-thump. His pulse drummed along steadily, although an alarming amount of blood had soaked into his clothes, despite my shoving his tunic into the wound. But I still had a chance to save him—or I could let him bleed out.
Memories of my childhood encounters with Leonidas Morricone bubbled up in my mind like hot lava, burning away my weak, treacherous sympathy for him. All I had to do was walk away, and he would die where he lay. The cold, cruel, petty part of me longed to do that, to let him suffer at the hands of his own countrymen, just as he’d let me suffer at the hands of those turncoat guards all those years ago. Even better, letting him die would finally destroy whatever lingering shred of kinship I foolishly felt for him.
I dropped my hand from his neck and started to rise, but my gaze snagged on a splash of purple a few feet away from Leonidas’s shackled hands—an ice violet, just like the one he’d given to that girl this morning. He could have easily killed the girl, but instead, he’d let her go, even though she could have run away screaming and revealed his position.
I wavered a moment longer, then sighed and pushed my hurt and anger back into the past, where they belonged. Like it or not, Leonidas had spared an innocent Andvarian life, and I had a duty to save his in return. Not because I was a princess and he was a prince, and not even to find out more about the stolen tearstone. No, this was just me, just Gemma, trying to help another person simply because it was the right thing to do.
Besides, if I didn’t at least try to save him, then I would be no better than Maeven, who had watched while men, women, and children were slaughtered during the Seven Spire massacre. And if there was one thing I would never, ever be, it was anything like Queen Maeven Morricone.
“Is he dead?” Penelope asked again.
“Yes,” I lied. “He’s dead. Help me get him into one of the wheelbarrows.”
She blanched at my cold, clipped tone, but she took hold of his legs, while I grabbed his shoulders. Together, we hoisted him up off the ground and into one of the now-empty wheelbarrows. Leonidas didn’t make a sound, and his face was ashen enough to make it seem as though he truly was dead. He would be soon enough, if I didn’t find a way to help him.
But first, I had to get rid of Penelope. She might not have wanted anyone to get hurt, but I couldn’t trust her not to run straight to Conley with the news that Leonidas was still alive. So I reached out with my magic and twisted my fingers, as though I were turning an invisible door knob. Penelope made a small, choked sound and clutched her stomach, as though she suddenly felt nauseous.
Normally, I only used my power to move objects and skim people’s thoughts. Unlike some mind magiers, I didn’t whisper commands to people, or make them see things that weren’t really there, or hurt them with my magic. Not unless I had no other choice. But this was a life-or-death situation, and Leonidas was running out of time.
“I don’t . . . feel so good,” Penelope rasped, her hands still on her stomach.
“I can handle this. Just tell me where to dump him.”
“Are you sure? I dragged you into this. I should be the one to . . . take care of things.”
“I’m sure,” I replied in a firm voice. “Roll the other wheelbarrow back to the mine. Maybe you’ll feel better once you’re away from here. Just tell me where I can get rid of his body.”
Penelope bit her lip, still hesitating, so I twisted my hand again. Her eyes widened, her stomach gurgled ominously, and it took her a few seconds to swallow down this second, stronger round of nausea.
“There’s a ravine on the far side of the woods, about half a mile away,” she said. “Rock slides happen all the time there, so his body should get covered up in a day or two.”
“Okay. You go back to the mine and tell Conley that I’ll return soon.”
Penelope nodded, and her relief washed over me, even stronger than the nausea I’d inflicted on her. She grabbed the handles of the second wheelbarrow; gave me a brief, wobbly smile; and then pushed it into the trees.
When I was sure she was gone, I stared down at Leonidas.
He lay sprawled in the wheelbarrow like a sack of potatoes. His arms and legs hung off the sides at awkward angles, while his face was even paler than before. For a moment, I thought he truly was dead, but then his chest fluttered up and eased back down with a shallow breath.
“Doing the right thing is a lot bloody harder than it should be,” I muttered. “Especially when it comes to you.”
Of course he didn’t answer me, and if I didn’t act now, he wouldn’t be talking ever again. So I sighed, grabbed the wheelbarrow, and rolled my mortal enemy out of the clearing.
Chapter Five
Pushing a wheelbarrow full of a mostly dead prince through the woods wasn’t as easy as I’d thought it would be.
Given the rocky, hilly terrain, I couldn’t have managed it without my magic. But one good thing about being a mind magier was that I could move much larger objects with my magic than I ever could with my own mortal strength; although, the heavier the object, the more magic, willpower, and concentration were required. So I pushed the wheelbarrow along with my arms and legs, and used my magic to shove it past, around, and over the rocks, dead logs, and other detritus that littered the forest floor.
Leonidas didn’t stir, no matter how bumpy the ride got or how viciously I cursed. Those coldiron shackles were still wrapped around his wrists, and they clank-clank-clanked together as loudly as a bell ringing around a cow’s neck. Between the clanking shackles, the attached rattling chain, and the wheelbarrow’s squeaky wheel, I was making far too much noise, but speed was more important than stealth.
I made it back to the clearing in front of the cottage without running into anyone. Just a little bit farther, and I could stop pushing, roll Leonidas out of the wheelbarrow, and see how badly he was injured—
A presence brushed up against my mind, as soft as a feather tickling my skin, and a shadow fell over me, blotting out the sun. I jerked to a stop, and my sudden, awkward motion almost tipped over the wheelbarrow.
A harsh warning cry rang out. My head snapped up, and I realized why Captain Wexel had kept glancing up at the sky after he had stabbed Leonidas.
Lyra was hovering above me. The strix was pumping her wings hard and fast, and the resulting blasts of wind blew my miner’s helmet clear off my head. With another harsh cry, the strix streaked downward, her talons aimed at my chest, ready to tear me to pieces.
I dropped the wheelbarrow handles, lifted my hands, and reached for my magic. But before I could shove the strix off course, a dark gray blur streaked through the air and slammed into her.
Grimley was here.
Lyra and Grimley both went down hard and tumbled wings over tails across the clearing, their talons raking over the ground and throwing up grass, dirt, and rocks in their chaotic wake. They slammed into the broad trunk of a maple hard enough to make a shower of scarlet leaves cascade down and comically cover their bodies, as though they were children who had deliberately jumped into a pile of raked leaves.