I looked toward the Bellonan end of the bridge. Everyone there was either climbing to their feet or standing in place, still shocked by what had just happened. But my countrymen all looked okay, and no one seemed to have gone into the water. The only ones who had been drowned by the wave had been the ship full of Mortans.
“Evie?” Sullivan said. “Evie, talk to me.”
I tried to smile at him, but I didn’t have the strength left for that either. Instead, my legs finally gave way, and I pitched backward.
This time, I couldn’t stop myself from collapsing. I heard my friends shout my name, but that strange buzzing filled my ears again, and the last thing I saw was the cold, wet flagstones rushing up to meet me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The first thing I was aware of was the cold water slowly soaking into the side of my body.
I tried to squirm away, but it seemed to be everywhere. When that didn’t work, I cracked my eyes open. That’s when I realized that I wasn’t lying in water at all, but rather on a pile of snow near a campfire that was slowly melting the icy crystals, hence the cold wetness that had soaked into my dress.
Everything came rushing back to me. Meeting Rocinda and Caxton in the woods. Hearing their awful plans for me. Freeing the caged caladrius. Caxton hitting me in the face, Rocinda cutting me with her dagger, and the poison on the blade spreading through my body.
The one good thing about lying in the snow was that the cold had soaked into my cheek, which wasn’t throbbing quite as badly as before, although pain still rippled through my skull. I lay still and quiet, trying to figure out what was going on. We were still at the campsite, since I could see the caladrius’s empty cage hanging in the tree.
Someone, Caxton probably, had stoked the campfire back up into a bright blaze, and the heat of it pressed against my back. I didn’t see my enemies, so I listened, straining to hear above the soft popping and crackling of the fire, and trying to figure out exactly where they were . . .
“Did you signal the Mortans yet?” Caxton’s voice cut through the quiet.
The sudden sound startled me, and I had to work very hard not to jerk in surprise.
Footsteps sounded, growing closer and louder, as though someone was leaving the edge of the woods and crunching back through the patches of snow toward the campsite.
“Yes.” Rocinda’s voice drifted over to me. “I just spoke to one of the bastard Morricones through the Cardea mirror they gave us the last time we brought them some strixes. They’re very eager to get their hands on the girl.”
“Who did you talk to?” Caxton asked.
“Someone named Maeven. I think she’s one of the king’s bastard sisters. I told her that the little Blair bitch doesn’t seem to have any magic, but she didn’t care. In fact, Maeven seemed even more interested in the girl after I told her that.”
Panic filled me, and I had to fight the urge to jump to my feet and run away. They were going to take me to Morta? And sell me to one of the king’s relatives? This was even worse than I’d feared. Slavery would be bad enough, but going to Morta was a certain death sentence.
My mother had told me all sorts of horror stories about the Morricone royal family—how much they hated the Blairs, how they coveted our tearstone mines, and especially how they were always brewing poisons and dreaming up new ways to try to kill us. I’d thought she’d just been trying to scare me into behaving, but Rocinda and Caxton’s words seemed to confirm all those awful tales.
So how could I escape this gruesome fate?
My hands had been tied in front of my body with a thick, heavy rope. I tested the bonds, but the rope was far too strong to break. A sob of despair rose in my throat, but I choked it down. Now was not the time to give in to my fear and panic. No, I needed to be calm if I had any chance of surviving. And right now I desperately needed something to cut through the ropes.
I was still lying in the snow, and I glanced around, searching for a rock, a tree branch, or anything else I could use to either get out of my bonds or wield as a weapon. I didn’t see anything, but a little bit more snow melted under my body, and something colder and harder than the ice dug into my hip.
My breath caught in my throat. It was the dagger my mother had given to me back at Winterwind. The blade was still hidden in my pocket. Rocinda and Caxton must not have searched me, and they didn’t realize that I had a weapon.
Maybe I could escape after all.
Rocinda and Caxton kept talking, going over their route from Bellona, through Andvari, and over into Morta, but I tuned them out. They weren’t paying attention to me, and I slowly shifted to the side, so that I was leaning more onto my back. Then I reached around and started working my hands down into my dress pocket.
It was hard, especially since my hands were tied, and I was trying to move my arms as little as possible, but I wormed my fingers into the opening. My dagger was still in there, and I managed to get one fingertip on it, then two, then three. Somehow, I pulled the dagger up high enough so that I could grab the hilt. Then, when I had a good grip on it, I started sliding it out of my pocket.
All I had to do was quietly slice through my bonds and wait for my enemies to go back to sleep. Then I could get up and run into the woods, and this time I wouldn’t be stupid enough to stop for anything—
“I think our little friend is awake,” Caxton said.
For a moment, I froze, but there was no time to waste, so I yanked the dagger free. I didn’t have time to try to slice through my bonds, so instead I wrapped both hands around the hilt—
A rough hand grabbed my shoulder and rolled me over onto my back.
Caxton dropped to his knee and bent down over me. “What do you think you’re doing—”
I whipped up the dagger and stabbed him in the chest.
Caxton screamed in surprise. He jerked back, and the blade slid free of his chest, but I kept my grip on it and shoved it right back into his body again, even deeper than before. He screamed again, then flopped to the ground beside me.
I scrambled up onto my knees, took hold of the dagger, and ripped it out of his chest, but he didn’t scream again. Blood spurted everywhere, making my hands warm and slippery, but I plunged the dagger tip into the snowy ground, then put my hands up against the sharp blade, using it to saw through my bonds.
“Caxton!” Rocinda screamed.
Footsteps crunched through the snow, and the stench of magic filled the air. I looked up. Rocinda was running toward me, a ball of fire crackling in her hand. I went back to work on my bonds, sawing, sawing, sawing with all my might.
Snap!
The ropes finally broke apart. I didn’t even wait for them to drop away from my hands before I grabbed the dagger out of the ground, but Rocinda was quicker than I was, and she hurled her fire at me. I lurched to the side, accidentally tripping over Caxton’s body. The fire zoomed over my head, but I hit the ground hard, landing on my back again, and more pain bloomed in my face and skull. I pushed it away the best I could, but once again, I was too late.
In an instant Rocinda was looming over me, another ball of fire burning in her hand. “Maeven only told me to bring you to her alive. She never said that I couldn’t melt your skin off first,” she hissed.
The magier drew her hand back to blast me with her fire. I lifted my own hand, reaching for my immunity, even though I didn’t know if I was strong enough to snuff out her power—
A shadow zoomed out of the trees and flew straight at Rocinda’s face. She shrieked in surprise, and the fire slipped out of her hand and exploded against the ground, making the snow hiss as it instantly melted.
I scrambled to my feet. The magier whirled around to me, but the shadow came at her again, and I realized that it wasn’t a shadow at all.
It was the caladrius.
The tiny, owlish bird kept attacking the magier, raking its sharp talons across her hands, arms, and face. Rocinda shrieked and staggered back, trying to summon up more magic to roast the bird in midai
r, but every time she raised her hand, the caladrius swooped down at her again.
In my hurry to get away from the magier I had dropped my dagger, and I fell back down to my knees, trying to find where the weapon had landed in the snow. The cold crystals stung my hands, but I kept digging and digging through the clumps of snow.
“Die, you damn bird!” Rocinda snarled.
I looked up just in time to see the magier hurl a ball of magic at the caladrius. Rocinda’s aim was true, and the fire bloomed like a red-hot flower against the creature’s snow-white wings, completely engulfing its body. The caladrius didn’t make a sound as it dropped into the campfire.
A shrieking sob rose in my throat. Even though I had only seen the creature for a few moments, it was a shame that something so beautiful had been put in a cage. And now it was dead, just because it had tried to help me.
Icy rage filled me, freezing out my grief. My hand closed over the dagger, and I ripped it out of the snowdrift. Then I got to my feet and headed toward Rocinda.
The magier whirled around to me, another ball of fire popping into her hand. “Come here, girl,” she snarled. “And let me cook you alive just like I did that damn bird.”
But she didn’t wait for me to come closer. Instead, Rocinda reared her hand back and threw her fire at me.
I could feel and smell the hot flames streaking through the air, and I grabbed hold of my immunity, coating my skin with the cold, hard power that perfectly matched the rage beating in my heart. The fire blasted against me, but I pushed back with my immunity, and the flames vanished without even touching my body, much less scorching my skin.
Rocinda blinked in surprise, but she threw another ball of fire at me. And then another one, and then another.
I kept my grip on my immunity, and I snuffed out all her magic. And the whole time, I kept stalking toward her at that same slow, steady, determined pace.
Finally, she stopped long enough to stare at me with wide eyes. “Why aren’t you burned? Why aren’t you dead?”
I screamed with rage and ran straight at her. Rocinda backed up, but this time she was the one who tripped over Caxton’s body. She staggered to the side, still trying to get away from me, but before she could recover her balance, I surged forward and stabbed her in the chest.
Rocinda screamed and lifted her hand to blast me with her magic again, but I ripped the dagger out of her chest and sliced it across her throat. I didn’t really know what I was doing, other than trying to hurt her, but I got lucky and the blade sliced cleanly across her neck.
Rocinda stared at me, choking on her own blood. Then her eyes rolled up in the back of her head, and she dropped to the ground, bleeding out all over the snow.
I stood over her, the bloody dagger still clutched in my hand, breathing hard. When I was sure she was dead, I slumped down to my knees, then plopped over onto the ground.
I didn’t know how long I huddled there, staring dully at Rocinda’s and Caxton’s bodies. Right now I didn’t have the strength to move, much less think about what I should do next—
Hoot. Hoot-hoot. Hoot.
My head snapped up, and I looked around the clearing, wondering who—or what—was making that sound. For a moment, I thought that maybe Caxton or Rocinda was still alive, but they were dead, so they weren’t the ones making the noise.
Hoot. Hoot-hoot. Hoot.
The sound came again, and I realized that it was coming from . . . the campfire.
I looked in that direction, and I noticed that something was moving in the flames. At first I thought it was just a chunk of wood burning, but then I realized the object was shaped like a small bird . . .
The caladrius.
I gasped in surprise, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me, but they weren’t. Somehow, the caladrius was still alive in the middle of the flickering flames.
My gaze darted around the clearing, searching for something that I could wrap around my hand. But there was no time to protect myself, not if I wanted to save the creature, so I lunged over and stretched my hand out toward the fire. I grimaced, knowing how much this was going to hurt, but I shoved my fingers forward anyway.
The instant before my hand would have plunged into the fire, the caladrius twitched its wings, hopped out of the flames, and landed on my outstretched palm. I jerked back, and the caladrius shuffled around, its talons digging into my skin as it held on to my palm, but not unpleasantly so.
My shock wore off, and I slowly rose to my feet with the caladrius still perched on my hand. The creature ruffled its feathers, shaking the soot and ash off them. A few red-hot embers flickered around the bird, but its feathers were a pristine snow-white, and the caladrius seemed completely untouched and unharmed by the fire.
“How did you do that?” I whispered.
Magic.
I blinked. Had the caladrius just . . . talked to me again?
The creature kept staring at me, then raised its wing and pointed it to the right.
“That way?” I asked. “I should go that way?”
The caladrius bobbed its head and shuffled on my palm again.
My father had always told me that caladriuses had powerful magic, but I hadn’t known they were strong and tough enough to survive a blast of magier power and then an actual fire. For the first time, I understood why Rocinda and Caxton—and whomever they had been working for—had wanted the creature for their own.
But it was a wild thing, and it deserved to be free, like all wild things did. So I lifted it up, staring into its gray-blue eyes.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “For saving me.”
The caladrius shuffled around again, bent down, and rubbed its soft head and feathers against my fingers. Then it spread its wings wide and took off, disappearing into the trees. I watched it go with a smile on my face.
But all too soon reality set in, reminding me that I needed to get out of here and find someone who would help me. So I headed over to Rocinda’s and Caxton’s knapsacks to see what I could take with me on my journey out of the cold, snowy woods . . .
My eyes fluttered open. For a moment, I thought I was still in the woods that awful night so long ago. But then I realized I was staring at the wall of a gray canvas tent, instead of the snow-dappled ground, and everything came rushing back to me.
Sneaking into the Mortan camp. Freeing the strixes and the caladrius. Sneaking back over to the island. Seeing Paloma win the tournament. Watching Maximus kill his own guard. Stepping onto the bridge and seeing the weather magiers’ tidal wave . . .
I shuddered at the horrible memory of that wall of water rising up. Even among all the horrible things I had been through over the past year, that image would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life.
Low voices sounded, and I glanced over to my right.
Paloma, Sullivan, Serilda, Cho, Xenia, Auster. My friends were gathered around a table that had been set up along one of the tent walls. I didn’t see Leonidas, so the boy must be in his own tent. I wondered if Lyra had flown back here to find him. Probably.
My friends kept talking in soft voices. I lay still and listened to their conversation.
“We’ve gotten reports that the Mortans are massing on their side of the river. Guards and strixes are lined up on the rise at the edge of their camp.” Auster pointed to a spot on a map spread out on the table.
“Do you think the Mortans will actually fly across the river and invade Bellona?” Paloma asked in a worried voice.
“It’s too early to say,” Serilda murmured. “More likely, Maximus doesn’t want us sneaking into his camp again. That’s why he’s making such a strong show of force.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” Sullivan asked. “What if he comes here and tries to kill Evie again? The strixes could easily fly across the river and swoop down into our camp.”
“Then we’ll fight the bastards off,” Xenia replied. “Just the way we’ve been doing for months now . . .”
My friends kept discussing the mo
vements of the Mortan soldiers and strixes, and the scent of their collective worry hung like a wet blanket in the air. But there was only one way to end this now—my plan of last resort.
Perhaps I had always known that it would come to this, ever since the Seven Spire massacre. After all, it was a grand Bellonan tradition and how my kingdom had been founded. It seemed fitting that I should defend it the same way all these centuries later.
As much as I wanted to rest, I couldn’t let my friends deal with the fallout of Maximus’s latest attack by themselves. Queens did not have the luxury of lounging around in bed, not even after they’d almost been assassinated—again.
“Well, I say that we forget our problems and go to the ball,” I drawled, sitting up on the bed.
My friends whirled around at the sound of my voice, then rushed forward.
“Evie! Evie!”
“Are you okay, highness?”
“How are you feeling?”
The questions tumbled out of their mouths one after another, and their chatter made me smile. On the bridge, I had thought I would never hear their voices again, but here we were, all safe and sound, and I couldn’t stop smiling at that.
“I’m fine. Really. No doubt thanks to Aisha and her healing magic.” I looked around for the bone master, but she wasn’t here.
“Aisha went to check on Leonidas,” Serilda said. “The boy was still a bit shaken up, so she was going to make sure he was okay. Lyra flew back to camp. She’s in the tent with him.”
Good. I was glad the boy had a friend right now.
“Aisha was here, but she said that you were exhausted more than anything else,” Cho chimed in. “She told us to let you rest, and that you would wake up when your strength returned.”
I did feel extremely tired, but there was nothing Aisha or any other bone master could do about that. My body would just have to recover in its own time, even though time was something that was in short supply right now.
Auster gestured at the map again. “We were just talking about what course of action we should take next.”
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