Read Online Illusions of Fate by Kiersten White - Free Book Online Page A

sniffs genteelly, tucking the handkerchief back into his suit pocket. “I like you. You have all the spirit and passion they’ve been careful to breed out of Alben women. To thank you for finally giving Lord Ackerly a weakness I could exploit, I will keep you for my own.”
    My head lolls back on the couch, and I close my eyes, letting out a sharp breath in place of a laugh. “I would sooner die.”
    “Never worry about that. You’ll want me. You’ll be perfectly at home. And only I can keep you safe from the coming war.” A finger touches my cheek, and I shudder. I concentrate on the pain in my hand since it is preferable to the sensation of his skin on mine. “You shouldn’t have gone to the gala, Jessa. Men like Lord Ackerly will bring you nothing but suffering. I’m so disappointed in you. Still, you’ve learned your lesson, and we will move on as soon as this is settled. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a guest to prepare for.”
    The door closes, and I open my eyes to find the room once again without an exit. I angle my neck so I can see the wall. Though the light has dimmed, I can still see my two shadows. They’re slumped in defeat, but tiny dots of light have eaten through the extra shadow’s silhouette.
    Could it really be Finn’s shadow, as the nightmare man seemed to believe?
    This is not the same world I woke up in yesterday. I know none of the rules, and I have none of the power. All the things I’ve learned, all the ways I’ve tried to make a place for myself where I am not at the mercy of others, none of it matters in this new, bizarre reality.
    A harsh caw draws up my head. Three of the horrid black birds are staring at me from the armchair. One of them hops forward, darting close and pecking my leg with its bone-hard beak, then flapping back with a chorus of croaking laughter.
    Another moves to do the same, and I cringe, shielding my ruined hand and ducking my face into my shoulder.
    There is a clatter of wings and a chorus of angry caws, but nothing touches me. I raise my head to see one of the birds—missing a single claw—bobbing in front of me, flapping its wings and viciously attacking the other two when they get too close. It draws blood and rips a pinion out of the wing of one of my would-be assailants. They flap away, cawing reproachfully, and disappear into the bookshelf.
    I wipe my eyes and look at the remaining bird. “Well,” I say, “spirits’ mercies. I am sorry I didn’t leave better food for you outside my window.”
    The bird turns so one yellow eye is fixed on mine.
    I sniffle, swallowing back another wave of nausea. “I should have known you weren’t evil. You’re far handsomer than those other wretched birds.”
    It ducks its head and tucks some stray feathers back into place along its wing. “Are you a boy?” I ask, and it bobs its head. “Sir Bird it is, officially. Now, Sir Bird, is there a door to this room?”
    He hesitates, and then weaves his head back and forth in what I assume is an approximation of shaking it no.
    I squeeze my eyes shut against a welling of tears. “I’m afraid that if I do not escape right now, I shall never leave this place.” I don’t know what the nightmare man has in store for me, but any kindness he thinks of is one I want no part of. My hand pains me to distraction, though, and I haven’t any hope of fighting my way free.
    There’s a frantic scratching, and I open my eyes to see Sir Bird hopping the length of the table, twisting and twitching as though fighting some internal war. Finally, he shakes himself from beak to tail, caws, and flies to the iron grate over the fire.
    I close my eyes again. Perhaps if I can sleep I can wake up somewhere safe, my hand intact, this nightmare over.
    Sir Bird caws again, louder than ever, and I look at him, irritated. “What is it?”
    He pecks at the iron grate, hops down behind it, and then flaps directly into the fire.
    “No!” I gasp, standing and rushing forward. But Sir Bird