In Someone Else's Skin by Margo Collins (good non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

Grant simply rolled his eyes.

“Nonetheless,” I said primly, “it’s what we’re going to do. Are all of you ready?”

I waited for all of them to acknowledge the plan, and then we stepped into the room. We weren’t trying to be quiet, but Amalya didn’t even turn around to acknowledge us.

“You can put the tray on the table.” She motioned to her left, then went back to humming something low and soothing to the infants, who swayed gently to the sound of her voice.

Of course she assumed we were servants. She believed everyone around her was there to serve her in one way or another.

Even the babies, probably.

When no one responded to her order, she finally twisted on her lower serpent half so she could see us.

“You,” she hissed. But she’d waited too long to make sure she was safe. Shane was already lunging toward her with his shock stick.

Harsh lines etched around the guard’s mouth showed how much he hated watching as we attacked his monarch, but he didn’t try to save her. He didn’t even call out. But I didn’t have time to wonder at his odd compliance.

As Amalya’s body went lax, her serpent half uncoiled, and she dropped. Grant dove under her in time to catch her, and I reached in to take the babies.

They both hesitated for a second but finally slid over to me when I urged them with my hands.

“I’m so glad to see you again,” I whispered.

“Company’s coming,” Coit announced, peering through the window of the servants’ entrance. “Time to get out of here.”

I narrowed my eyes at the guard. “Can you get us to the garage without anyone seeing us?”

His nod was almost a bow. “I can certainly try.”

Close enough. “Then let’s go.”

He took the lead, Coit following close behind. Grant carried Amalya, and Shane and I trailed after them. We moved out of the nursery room just in time—I caught a glimpse of the servants’ door swinging open as we slid out into the hallway and heard voices behind us.

But the guard moved into another room almost immediately, then led us winding through hallways and doors, taking us along a circuitous route that I couldn’t have retraced if my life had depended on it.

Eventually, though, we emerged into a hallway I remembered walking through immediately after leaving the car behind earlier in the day.

God. Had we really been here less than twenty-four hours? It seemed like days.

As we stepped into the garage, a figure moved out to stand between us and the vehicle, electricity crackling from one hand to the other.

Salara, fairly bristling with power.

She didn’t carry a shock-stick.

No, that power was all her own.

“Stop,” she ordered, her voice ringing with authority. This was no longer the friendly, chatty lamia who had picked us up in her low-slung car.

This was a member of the queen’s clan, a woman with power.

A woman who intended to keep us from leaving with her monarch.

“Wait.” I jolted at the sound of Amalya’s voice echoing through the mostly empty structure. I could have sworn she was still unconscious, but the lamia queen sat up in Grant’s arms, then slid down to balance on the stone-like floor.

“My queen,” Salara began.

“Let us pass.” Amalya spoke quietly, but it . “I go with the infants of my own free will, Salara.”

The other woman shook her head, her expression collapsing in on itself. “No. You cannot leave us. We need you.”

I remembered my earlier thoughts about having a duty to the lamia babies that was similar to Amalya’s obligation to her subjects.

What was happening here?

Surely the queen wasn’t leaving her people.

Then again, what was a queen when her country was dying of attrition?

A queen without countrymen—would she be a queen at all at that point?

Amalya turned to me, almost as if she read my thoughts. “If you take the infants, I must go with you. They’re the only future we have.” She paused. “But if you take them back to your world, they’ll be in danger, even if I go to protect them.”

I blinked. “I can’t leave them behind,” I insisted.

“They’ll be safe here. Cared for. Cherished.” Queen Amalya’s voice broke on the last word. “No one will try to kill them.”

I froze. That hadn’t occurred to me before—the idea that the lamia babies might be better off here than they were in my own world.

But would they grow up to be cold? Heartless?

I examined Amalya through narrowed eyes.

She clearly cared about the babies. Could that be enough? A base from which to start?

Could I be certain they’d be taught compassion? Salara had talked about treating humans as second-class citizens. Had that been true, or was it just part of her ploy to take us to the queen?

“No,” I finally said. “I can’t leave them behind.”

That’s when Salara attacked.

Chapter 11

She shoved her hands toward us, palm-first. Her initial blast sent the men with us tumbling off to the sides like dandelion seeds blown across the yard.

I braced myself for impact, pulling my magic around myself as tight as I could, preparing for whatever came next.

Solara’s second blow never landed.

Amalya reached out, took my hand, and held them above us.

I half expected her to pull my magic away from me, to suck it into herself and use it as a power source.

But she did the exact opposite. Instead of taking my magic, she added hers to what I already had, pouring it into me.

After a second, I followed her example, pouring my own magic into the space between us—and when that space was full, I pushed harder, shoving everything I had into the air that danced between our molecules. I’d learned in school science classes that there was more space in our atoms than matter. And now we used that fact to our benefit, until our magic swirled through us, filling that space, combining and mixing.

Exhilaration swirled through me and I glanced at Amalya, who flashed a triumphant smile my direction. When I looked back at Solara,