Page 38

“Kieran,” Diego said sharply. “You are a prince of Faerie. Be a prince of Faerie.”

Kieran gave him a wild, dark look. His breath was ragged. Divya glanced at Diego as if to say what are you doing? just as Kieran reached up to seize a branch of the tree.

He closed his black and silver eyes. His face was a pale mask. His jaw tightened even as the leaves on the tree began to rustle, as if in a high wind. It was as if the tree were calling out.

“What’s happening?” whispered Divya.

Light crackled up and down the tree—not lightning, but pure bright sparks. It circled Kieran as if he were outlined in gold paint. His hair had turned an odd gold-green, something Diego had never seen before.

“Kieran—” Diego started.

Kieran threw his hands up. His eyes were still closed; words poured from his mouth, a language Diego had never heard. He wished Cristina were here. Cristina could translate. Kieran was shouting; Diego thought he heard the word “Windspear” repeated.

Windspear? thought Diego. Isn’t that—?

“There are people coming!” Divya cried. She ran to the door of the library, slammed it closed, and locked it, but she was shaking her head. “There are way too many of them. Diego—”

The glass ceiling exploded. Both Diego and Divya gasped.

A white horse crashed through the ceiling. A flying white horse, proud and beautiful. Glass sprayed and Diego dived under a nearby table, dragging Divya with him. Kieran opened his eyes; he reached up in welcome as Windspear sliced through the air, swift as an arrow, light as thistledown.

“By the Angel,” Divya whispered. “God, I used to love ponies when I was little.”

Kieran vaulted himself up onto Windspear’s back. His hair had gone back to its more normal blue-black, but he was still crackling with energy. His hands threw sparks as he moved. He reached out toward Diego, who scrambled out from under the table, Divya beside him, their boots crunching on shattered glass.

“Come with me,” Kieran called. The room was full of wind and cold, the smell of the Carpathians and lake water. Above them, the broken window opened out onto a sky full of stars. “You will not be safe here.”

But Divya shook her head. Crushing down the longing to escape that rose inside him, Diego did the same. “We will stay and fight,” he called. “We are Shadowhunters. We cannot all flee and leave only the worst of us to seize power. We must resist.”

Kieran hesitated, just as the library door burst open. Gladstone and a dozen Cohort members swarmed in, their eyes widening.

“Stop him!” Gladstone shouted, throwing an arm out toward Kieran. “Manuel—Anush—”

“Kieran, go!” Diego roared, and Kieran seized Windspear’s mane; they exploded into the air before Manuel could do more than take a step forward. Diego thought he saw Kieran look back at him once before Windspear cleared the ceiling and they shimmered into a white streak across the sky.

Diego heard someone step up behind him. Across the room, Divya was looking at him. There were tears in her eyes. Behind her, her cousin Anush was cuffing her hands.

“You’re going to be so sorry you did this,” Manuel said, his delighted whisper rasping in Diego’s ear. “So very sorry, Rocio Rosales.”

And then there was only darkness.

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