Free The Weight of a Wing (The Stolen Wings Book 1) by Ioana Visan Page A

along the
corridor. “Who wants to bet she’ll be joining us for breakfast tomorrow?” She
grumbled. “I’m not crazy about her, but she really shouldn’t be here right
now.”
    “We’ll deal with it when she comes,” Rafe said quietly then
raised his voice to be heard in the living room. “I can’t wait to put that
guestroom to good use!” It earned him an elbow in the ribs and a glare, but he
caught Alise’s arm, preventing her from bringing any more damage to his body.
“Relax. I’m not making you sleep on the floor.”
    He kept holding her by the arm until they reached the room
and only then released her. Once he closed the door, they found themselves
alone for the first time since morning.
    Alise rubbed her arm and sat on the edge of the wide bed,
frowing at Rafe.
    With his hands on his hips, he stood there, a concentrated
expression on his face. “I’m going out to check on things. Don’t leave the
room.”
    She wanted to point out that, if there was another attack in
his absence, it would be wiser for her to do it, but he had already left. She
put her feet up and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
    Outside, the dogs were yapping. Something evil is here!
    A shiver ran down her back. Indeed, evil was there.
    This time, she got no hint at the place it might strike. She
just had a feeling something bad was going to happen. Absentmindedly, she
scratched at her wrist where the coral had irritated her skin. The itch increased
to the point that she sat up in bed, trying to remove the bracelet, but it
wouldn’t come off. She watched with morbid fascination as her fingertips became
transparent and disappeared. She didn’t have enough magic left to fight the
overwhelming force that slowly dragged her away.
    “Rafe?” The word came out more like a whimper.
    Unlike her wrist, which kept burning, her palm didn’t hurt,
although the void had eaten more than half her fingers by the time he ran back
into the room.
    The Guardian didn’t hesitate. Kneeling on the bed, he caught
her arm with one hand, holding a blade in the other. With no space between the
wrist and the bracelet—the sharp coral pieces were biting deeply into her
skin—he went for the easiest choice. He sliced right through it. The blade tore
her wrist open, blood gushing out freely, but it also split the threads in
half.
    Alise clutched the arm against her chest with a stifled cry
of pain.
    A louder cry came from the room across the hall, and Rafe
rushed out before she could blink.
    Holding the bleeding wrist with her other hand, Alise ran
after him. She arrived in time to hear the last part of Vale’s explanation.
“The necklace was choking her. She was struggling to take it off, but I
couldn’t cut it without killing her. It was too risky.”
    There was one extra person in the corridor listening in.
Given the shocked expression on Mark’s face, he had heard, possibly even seen,
more than he needed to. Alise wished he hadn’t. She winced when Rafe punched
him, knocking him to the floor, but it was necessary. They needed time to think
and come up with a plan.
    “What the hell happened?” Rafe asked. “Where did she go?”
    “I … I think he took her,” Vale said.
    “Gorem.” Rafe’s face darkened.
    Vale nodded. “He must have a powerful Wizard on his side.”
    “And we have none. Damn.”
    Not good at all. Alise gulped. We’re doomed.

Chapter Twelve
     
    Rafe and Alise were alone in the Guardians’ safe house. In
order to save resources, only one room had been created—Rafe’s. He tossed Alise
the healing stone, saying, “Catch!” Then he paced the floor, aggravated.
    Was he worried about Cassie or Vale? Though there was little
hope they could get her back easily, Vale had gone to try and find details
about what happened to her. Not knowing for sure what Rafe was thinking—more
than anything else, Alise suspected he was pissed because someone had gotten
through his precious protective seals—she shook her head