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She’d recognize his human form anywhere.
She noticed a halting movement to him right as she backed up, slamming her right arm across Kary’s chest to prevent him from stepping into view.
Nadia knew Darrow had noticed her movement, but he had not heard any of the others. She didn’t have time for lengthy explanations.
She met Kary’s eyes and nodded sideways toward the corner, then pointed a thumb at herself. Seeing his nod, she ran forward and around the corner before anyone, especially Harmiston, would begin asking questions.
The first thing she noticed when rounding that corner, was that she’d been right. Darrow had backed up, glancing down the corridor she was in, a puzzled frown on his face. At the sight of Nadia, his dark eyes widened.
Nadia feigned surprise and instantly changed course, running toward him at an angle, aiming for the part of the opening into the hallway where he wasn’t. Simple as that.
Despite being hard to kill and deceptively fast, her appearance inside the Palace had him stumped. She reached the hallway and took a hard turn to the right, running in the direction he’d already come from. He must have been heading toward the main doors of the throne room.
“Nadia?” he uttered.
She threw a glance over her shoulder but kept on running. She needed him to follow her and not look where she’d come from. Why was he even there? He should have been in the throne room feeding on innocent people.
For the first time in her life, she felt relief at the sound of a hybrid’s soft footfalls in pursuit of her.
All she needed to do was clear the hallway, lead him away and then Harmiston and the Ghosts could reach the upper gallery unseen. That was all that mattered. She felt Darrow’s threatening presence too close. Just a few more steps and she could slip through a door and into another hallway. Hybrids could do many things, but they couldn’t see through walls.
She felt the air brush against her neck. He must have swiped at her.
She wouldn’t reach the door. Instead, she drew her silver knife, stepped sideways, and bent, slashing her knife back, hoping to slice at his legs.
Darrow was too fast. By the time her knife slid through the air where he’d been, he’d already jumped in a forward flip, landing so gracefully it made even a former Wraith jealous.
Nadia didn’t stand around launching another attack. The split second where he landed was all she got, and she slipped around him, struck at his side, and hit his upper arm instead. He didn’t even let out a hiss at the silver cutting into his skin.
He caught Nadia’s arm at the last second but she was already on her way around the last corner. With all her might, she pushed on. It seemed she was trying to flee, which anyone would, but when Darrow was finally around the corner too, not quite able to hold her back, the elevation she felt was stronger than her sense of fear. She hadn’t lied to Harmiston earlier. Knowing they would succeed, that they would be safe and unseen for even a few more minutes, was all she wanted at that moment despite what happened to herself.
“What are you doing here?” Darrow hissed, his preternaturally enhanced beauty marred with a snarl of anger at her presence.
Nadia forced a smile, despite his strength holding her back with one simple grip around her wrist now that he’d gotten his balance back.
“Spying,” she said.
“Spying? Wraiths kill, they don’t spy …” He stopped himself and took in her clothes, blue on blue. “I forgot. You’re not a Wraith anymore.”
“Thanks to you. You got me kicked out!”
Darrow grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”
Nadia, who still had her silver-bladed knife in her free hand, slashed it at his face, but he bent his upper body back so fast she didn’t stand a chance. While straightening up, equally fast, he sent his flat hand at her chest, pushing her back. His strength had her hit the floor several meters back. Nadia grunted at the impact, but her wolf-half took it.
“What’s a tiny blade like that going to do to me?” he snarled at her, walking closer.
“It was a gift from your mother,” Nadia said, rolling over, exposing her back to him, and pulling on her gloves unseen. “I always wondered if it was meant for killing you.”
“Bringing her up won’t unsettle me,” Darrow said and grabbed the back of Nadia’s coat and hauled her on her feet.
Nadia reached into her pouch of phoenix dust and as he forced her around, she threw it at his face. It stung his eyes and his grip slackened. Nadia pounced and was on him, her silver chain uncoiling, snaring around his neck.
“Her name doesn’t need to,” she rasped, focused on her one chance. “Iwill.”
Darrow stumbled backward and fell with Nadia over him. He gasped and then wheezed when she tightened the silver chain. It was a sound reminiscent of the screech of the vampires. But he didn’t change forms. Most hybrids would have done so already.
Nadia rammed one knee into his side and she saw his eyes widen in pain. But unsettling him would only last so long. She gripped the chain with one gloved hand and raised her silver knife with the other. Darrow caught up and began trying to shake her off. He grabbed the wrist of her knife arm, forcing the blade away from his chest. She hit his throat then—not deep—yanking at the chain in the process, the pain of the impact reverberating up her arm. The skin on Darrow’s throat blistered red from the silver and his face turned red from the strain.
