"What a coincidence that Ilya would move to that same small town," Kostya continued. "How long have you lived there?"
"About five years. I set up my studio about four years ago, but before that, I worked in the basement of my house. It was close quarters when glassblowing. And hot." She wanted the subject to go back to her work.
"Such an intriguing profession for such a beautiful woman," Uri said. "So unusual. I appreciate the unusual." He stared directly into her eyes.
Definitely flirting. She smiled at him and brushed back her hair, a purely feminine gesture, a small sign that she found him attractive as well. "There's something very satisfying about making a piece of art that will hopefully be around a long time."
She took a small sip of the ice-cold champagne. It was awesome. The best she'd ever tasted. Kostya stood close to the window overlooking the street. She raised her glass at him. "The hotel has beautiful views. The river. The amazing architecture of the buildings across from you. This is a perfect location for a hotel."
Kostya took the bait and stepped right up to the window and looked out. "I haven't seen my city through someone else's eyes in a long time."
She started toward him and Uri moved with her, one hand at the small of her back. The window shattered and Kostya's head exploded, the sight shocking and obscene. Blood sprayed everywhere. She froze, screaming. The exquisite crystal flute fell from nerveless fingers to the floor.
Uri swore, hitting the floor, dragging her down with him. She jammed her fist in her mouth. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God." She chanted it over and over. Men poured into the room, guns drawn. Some were pointed at her head. "What just happened? Uri? Your father. What just happened?"
The men positioned themselves around Uri in a protective circle. Only then did he rise, yanking her to her feet. "You're coming with us until I figure out if you're a part of this or not."
"I don't understand." Her gaze strayed to the body on the floor, the blood pooling around it. "Part of what?" She looked around at all the guns, looking dazed, terrified, very confused.
Uri didn't answer. He snapped an order out and the men began moving, Uri and Lissa inside their closed ranks, as they hurried from the room and down the hall toward the huge mirror at the end of it. Lissa had to practically run to keep up with them. Uri's grip on her wrist was a vise. She knew she'd have bruises. In a way she couldn't blame him. He'd just witnessed his father's head blown off by some unknown sniper.
"Uri, why would someone do that?" she whispered.
"Shut up." The command was terse. Clipped. His grip didn't loosen in the slightest.
Lissa complied, stumbling a little, slowing them down, but Uri didn't let go of her. His grip didn't loosen for even one second, forcing her to go with him. The group abruptly stopped moving, and a panel slid open in the wall just to the right of the mirror. She was shoved through the door by the guard behind her even as Uri jerked at her arm. She stumbled, teetered in her high heels and then fell, her body crashing into Uri's.
His fingers gripped her arms hard, digging in, shaking her. She knew instantly he barely was aware of her. He was caught between fury and grief. She would have felt sorry for him but she knew he was the reason the orders had been given to kill those men and woman originally attending the schools his father had set up. Because he was ambitious. Because he couldn't afford a scandal if he wanted his political aspirations to be met.
She cried out, a lost, terrified cry. She clutched at him for support. "I'm so sorry, Uri. That was... horrible." It was. Shocking and horrible. Casimir was clearly an expert marksman. From what she understood, no one left the schools without being an expert in all ways to kill.
Uri maintained his hold on her but didn't answer. Instead he turned to his men. "Find out where that shot came from."
"Sir, the building across the street. On the roof. Right after the shot, there was an explosion on the roof. Our men are headed there now."
"I don't want him killed. Do you understand? Bring the shooter to me alive. Make that clear. I want him alive."
He turned on his heel after snapping the order, and began hurrying down the tunnel fast, once again taking Lissa with him. She dragged air into her lungs and looked around her. The tunnel was narrow, necessitating they go in single file or two abreast at the most. Uri kept her right next to him. There was no real way to drop behind him, not yet.
LED track lights at the seams of the ceiling lit the way. More were strung along the floor. She was very aware that Uri's fury was growing with every step they took because his fingers clamped down harder and harder on her until, midway down the seemingly endless tunnel, he abruptly stopped, turned to her and shook her hard.
"You bitch. I'm going to hurt you like you've never been hurt before. You're going to live a very long time and you'll beg me for death and I won't ever give it to you. You did this. Don't lie to me. You did this."
She was very aware of the men surrounding them. All had weapons. All were looking at her as if she were their greatest enemy. She shook her head. "Uri. I don't know what you're talking about..."
He slapped her. The blow was delivered open-handed but it was so hard it felt like her entire cheek exploded. The pain radiated up to her eye and down to her jaw. Her ears rang, a peculiar buzzing noise that drowned out her gasping cry. She staggered back, but he yanked her forward, driving his fist into her stomach. She doubled over and choked on bile.
Uri snatched the gun from the nearest soldier and shoved the barrel against her skull, hard. "Talk to me right now. Is it Ilya out there? Are you working with him?"
She gasped for air, still choking, trying to straighten, but the blow to her stomach held her immobile. She could only try to shake her head.
"Where's your rendezvous point? Where are you going to meet him?" he barked.
She opened her mouth and nothing came out but a thin wail.
"Lock the city down," Uri snapped to his men. "I want that bastard found. Now. He has to go somewhere. Someone has to know how he got into the country and how he plans to
get out. Find that someone, and do it now." He shoved the gun back at the soldier and forced Lissa into an upright position.
His hands settled around her throat. "You're going to tell me what I want to know and you'll do it now."
Her breath hitched. Her eyes welled with tears. "I can't tell you what I don't know. I couldn't possibly..."
His hands cut off her air supply, fingers squeezing hard. She struggled violently as her lungs fought for air, but he held her helpless. She saw black around the edges of her vision, her hands batting at his and then finally falling to her sides. He let go and she slumped forward, gasping for breath.
"Talk, you bitch. I don't believe in coincidences. You come here from Sea Haven where you just happen to know a Prakenskii, and then someone blows my father's head off." His hands settled around her throat again. "Where is he? How's he going to get out of the country?"
"I don't know," she wailed. "I swear..."
He cut her off a second time, fingers viciously digging into her neck, applying pressure so that she felt almost giddy. Then she was light-headed and dizzy. Her air was gone and she fought him again. Tears ran down her face and her fingernails ripped at his arms and the backs of his hands. Once again she began to lose her ability to fight, her arms like lead. Instantly he let her go again.