by Lee Bacon
Xyler’s eyes glow with urgency. “It’s now or never.”
Our group hurries across the dark room. The others follow me into the hall and toward the stairs. At the sound of approaching footsteps, we crouch behind a sofa. An armored guard comes clanking past, chasing after a yapping poodle.
On the move again. Up the stairs. But when we reach the third floor, I stagger to a halt.
Standing in front of me, dressed in a shimmering gown that matches her green eyes, is a most unwelcome sight.
Countess Francesca.
A haughty smile lights up her face. “Hello, Prince Frederick. So nice to see you again.”
Her again.
Awesome.
In the background, dogs bark and cats yowl. The rest of the palace has other things to deal with. It’s just us and the countess.
Her sharp gaze passes across our group. When it lands on me, her snotty smile gets even snottier.
“Look who it is.” She fluffs out her perfect hair with a dainty hand. “The girl who poisoned the Royal Couple and kidnapped the prince—”
“That’s not what happened.” Prince Fred steps forward. “Grand Duke Sturmenburg—he’s the one who poisoned my parents.”
“Oh, I know that,” Francesca replies matter-of-factly.
Fred blinks. “You do?”
“Of course.” Francesca’s eyes narrow at me. “There’s no way that a common girl like this could pull off such a complicated plan.”
Beside me, my dad tenses. “Who is this brat?”
Francesca ignores him. “I’m well aware of how badly the grand duke wants the throne. I know he’d do anything to gain power. And that includes poisoning the king and queen.”
“Then you have to help us,” Prince Fred pleads. “You could tell the world the truth.”
“You’re right. I could.” Francesca examines her manicured nails. “But I don’t think I will.”
“W-Why not?”
“I’m not sure if you knew this, but Grand Duke Sturmenburg just happens to be my second cousin. He doesn’t have any children of his own. Don’t you see what that means, Prince Frederick? With your parents out of the way—”
“You’re next in line for the throne.” Fred’s face has gone pale.
“Exactly.” Francesca arches a well-plucked eyebrow. “And since you’ve made it perfectly clear you have no intention of marrying me, this is my best chance to become queen someday.”
“Y-you can’t do this, Francesca. You must listen to me. I’m still the Royal Prince—”
“Not for much longer.”
Francesca looks like she’s about to call for the guards, but she never gets the chance. Because while she’s been talking, I’ve reached into my purse and removed a small glass vial. I uncap the top. And in the instant before the countess screams, I splash the contents of the vial into her open mouth.
“Gah.” Francesca coughs. “What was that?”
I hold up the vial for her to view the label. Very Vomitous Expunging Elixir. Fast-Acting, Long-Lasting.
“You think that’s going to stop me? Not a chance. I’m going to enjoy watching you die, you common little—GLURF.”
Francesca makes a gagging sound. She quickly covers her mouth with a dainty hand.
“Is everything okay?” I ask in a tone that’s somewhere between sweet and sarcastic. “You’re not looking so hot.”
That’s an understatement. Within seconds, her face has turned a sickly shade of green. Her eyes bulge. She looks around, as if desperately searching the hallway for the nearest barf bag.
My memory bounces back to what Desmelde the healer said to me as she pressed the vial into my hands. Take this with you. In the future, you may need it.
I’d had no idea how right she was.
Francesca bolts down the hall and into the nearest doorway. A moment after the door slams shut, we hear the muffled sounds of…
Well, you can probably guess.
I drop the empty vial back into my purse. “That ought to keep her busy for a while.”
Our group spins around the third-floor landing and continues up the stairs. When we reach the fourth floor, Xyler points down a long corridor.
“The king and queen are that way,” says the cat. “Even with the distraction, the way there is sure to be heavily guarded.”
“It won’t be easy to sneak around with so many people,” Dad observes.
Fred nods. “Perhaps we should split up. Xyler and I will go the rest of the way on our own.”
My worried glance passes from Xyler to Fred. “But what if someone spots you? If we’re not there, we won’t be able to back you up.”
“Prince Frederick and I have spent our entire lives exploring this palace,” Xyler replies. “We know it like the back of my paw. I can assure you—we’ll remain unseen.”
Prince Fred points to an open doorway. “Wait here. We’ll be back soon.”
Dad and I follow him through the door and into what looks like a medieval conference room. At the center is a long stone table surrounded by uncomfortable-looking chairs. Portraits of grumpy old men gaze coldly from gold frames. I flinch when I notice a suit of armor in the corner gripping a sword in its gloved hands. In the next moment, I realize—the armor’s empty.
I turn back to Fred. “Just be careful, okay. I mean it. You’re one of my best friends. In either of our worlds. If something happens to you…”
My eyes fall to the ground. A second later, I feel Fred’s arms wrap around me. He hugs me close.
“Worry not, Kara,” he whispers. “We shall see each other again.”
I hope he’s right.
Before I know it, Fred and Xyler are at the doorway again. They step into the hall, closing the door behind them.
Gone.
I look to my dad. “Okay, so…now what?”
He sets his rusted toolbox on the stone table and unlatches the lid. “Now we prepare.”
Xyler leads a zigzagging path through the palace. In and out of unoccupied rooms. Along the secret passageways used by servants. A tour through parts of my home that I didn’t know existed. Emerging from a fireplace that turns out to be a hidden door, the cat points down the hall.
“Your parents are that way,” he whispers.
We sneak closer. Turning a corner, I spot four guards standing outside a closed door. I take cover behind a marble statue, peering at the insignia on the men’s armor.
“That’s the grand duke’s sigil.” My jaw clenches. “They’ll never let me through.”
“Then you’ll have to find another way past,” Xyler says. “Wait here until the right moment.”
And then the cat steps into the hallway. He casually struts in the direction of the guards, tail weaving in the air.
The nearest guard points with his spear. “There’s the cat! The one the grand duke warned us about!”
“Get him!” yells another.
A third guard swings his spear, but Xyler’s already on the move. The blade only makes contact with the floor. The rest of the guards scramble to catch the cat. Lunging, diving, grabbing. Throughout the chaos, I catch glimpses of Xyler. A fuzzy blur darting between their legs and behind their backs, just out of reach.
With all the clanging and shouting and chasing, none of the guards notice me opening the door to my parents’ chamber and slipping inside.
The door clicks closed behind me. As soon as I whirl around, I see them. My parents. Lying side by side in bed. I rush toward them. But as I get nearer, an icy sliver of dread forms inside my chest. All the color has drained from my parents’ faces. Their lips are pale blue. I grab my mother’s hand, but her fingers are limp and cold.
They’re already dead.
I’m too late.
A tear slides down my cheek. I did everything I could, but it still wasn’t enough.
I reach into my cloak and remove the vial of Malinwrought antidote. My movements feel disconnected. As if I’m watching myself from a distance. Leaning over my father’
s pale face, I open his mouth. Just enough to pour half of the vial down his throat.
I know it won’t make a difference, but I do it anyway.
I give the other half to my mother. I look down at them—their bodies as still as statues. Anguish rips my mind apart. I fall to my knees, pressing my head into my mother’s unmoving arms. A cracked sob escapes my lungs. I don’t care if the guards hear me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters now that my parents are—
“Son.”
Through the storm of my grief, I hear it. A voice. At first, I’m sure it was just in my head. But there it is again. This time, slightly louder. Slightly clearer.
“Son.”
I look up. When I wipe the tears from my eyes, I see my father peering back at me. Color is already returning to his face. Beside him, Mother stirs. Her eyelids flutter open.
She speaks in a feeble whisper. “We’ve missed you.”
“I missed you, too.” Wrapping my arms around my parents, it’s as though I can feel the life returning to their bodies.
I want to apologize for leaving without telling them the truth. But I don’t get the chance.
Because that’s when a new voice shatters the moment into a thousand jagged shards. “I apologize for interrupting such a lovely reunion.”
I spin around to see Grand Duke Sturmenburg staring down at me. His long fingers curl around the diamond-studded hilt of his dagger. Shikkk. The sharp blade slides out of its sheath.
“Would you like to hear something funny?” the grand duke asks. “When I was forming my plan to seize power, you were the least of my concerns. I mean, really—what was there to worry about? A spoiled little prince who’s lived his entire life inside a great big palace? I could never imagine that you—of all people—would put up much of a fight. And yet…here we are.”
Sturmenburg’s grip on his dagger tightens.
“I’m going to do what I should’ve done days ago,” he hisses. “Soon the kingdom will receive the tragic news. Prince Frederick is dead. And so are his parents.”
“Y-you can’t,” I stammer.
The grand duke arches an eyebrow. “Ah, but I can. Quite easily. Your disappearance, the poisoning of the king and queen—it’s all been blamed on the rebel girl. The one who seems to have appeared out of nowhere. Almost as if she’s not from this world.”
Kara. As Sturmenburg talks about her, his eyes narrow at me.
“I know the truth about your friend.” His lips curl into a smile. “The Shadow Queen told me all about your adventure on Urth. And the girl you brought back with you. It’s quite a story. How unfortunate that nobody else will ever know about it. The only version of events that matters is the one I tell. About how the rebel girl abducted the prince. And when he tried to escape, she murdered him.”
The grand duke raises his dagger. Torchlight traces the diamonds and slides along the edge of the blade.
I cast a trembling glance over my shoulder. My parents. Still lying in bed, still weak from the poison. They can barely lift their heads. They won’t be able to protect me. Or themselves.
The grand duke follows my gaze. “What a miraculous recovery! The king and queen—awake again! Although, I have a sneaking suspicion it won’t last.”
“You’ll pay for what you’ve done.” Father raises an arm, reaching for the dagger, but Sturmenburg easily knocks his hand away.
“I’m afraid you’re quite wrong,” says the grand duke. “I’ll be rewarded for my efforts. At last, the Kingdom of Heldstone will be mine.”
In a violent burst, Sturmenburg lunges at me. I twist sideways—but not quite quickly enough. His blade grazes my arm. A flash of pain. As I scramble away, a crimson trail of blood follows me across the room. The grand duke catches up with me a second later. Grabbing my collar, he yanks me backward.
I see his dagger—a terrible glint of steel aimed at my chest. But before he can attack, I jam an elbow into Sturmenburg’s midsection.
“OOOF!” He doubles over.
Instantly, I’m on the move again. Racing toward the door. I have to alert the rest of the palace, let them know the truth. The king and queen are alive. Grand Duke Sturmenburg is a traitor.
Everything’s a blur. I’m running with all my strength. Almost there, almost there, almost—
The grand duke tackles me from behind. The ground rushes up and collides with me. All the air’s knocked out of my lungs. I can’t breathe. The cut on my arm throbs. But these are the least of my problems. Because when I turn onto my back, I’m met by a horrible sight.
Sturmenburg.
I thrash and swing, but he’s too big, too strong. His knees pin me to the ground.
“After a thousand years, your family’s reign is over.” The grand duke raises the dagger above his head. “At last, a glorious new era shall begin.”
My father’s voice comes from behind him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Bewilderment splashes across Sturmenburg’s features. Twisting around, he sees my father. Nightdress flowing around his ankles, three days’ growth of beard on his face. But very much alive—and standing right behind the grand duke. Father holds a flagpole over his shoulder like a spear. And before the grand duke can respond, he swings.
THWACK!
The flagpole knocks Sturmenburg sideways. The diamond-studded dagger skates across the floor. I scramble to my feet and grab it. Then I rush to Father’s side. He still looks wobbly on his feet. I sling an arm around his waist to keep him from falling.
Peering up at him, I feel gratitude swell inside me. “You saved my life.”
Father’s eyes gleam. “You saved mine first.”
A weak groan comes from the floor. The grand duke is struggling to his knees.
“That’ll be far enough,” Father says.
And just in case his warning isn’t enough, I hold Sturmenburg’s dagger ready.
The grand duke glares up at us with wounded anger. “Kill me now and get it over with!”
“As much as I would like that, I won’t grant your wish,” Father replies. “You shall stand trial. All of Heldstone will know what happens to traitors and bear witness to your treachery.”
Sturmenburg’s lips twist into a strange smile. “You have not seen the full extent of my treachery.”
With lightning-quick movements, his hand darts into his boot. A heartbeat later, it emerges again—gripping a small silver blade. Before I can respond, the grand duke springs forward, knife aimed at Father’s stomach. At the exact same moment, a blur shifts in the corner of my vision.
Mother.
She heaves an antique vase above her head and—
CRAAASH!
And just like that, Sturmenburg’s assassination attempt is thwarted by a flowerpot.
The grand duke collapses into a pile of shattered porcelain. Out cold. I rush to Mother’s side, flinging my arms around her.
“I love you, son,” she says.
Even though she’s still frail from the Malinwrought, Mother holds me tight. Father joins her, enveloping us both in his embrace. After everything the three of us have been through, I wish the moment could last forever, but it can’t. Not while a grave and terrible evil still lurks in the palace.
Taking a step back, I turn my gaze up to my parents. “We have to move quickly. Kara and her father are in danger.”
I have no idea what my dad’s up to, but it looks complicated. His supplies are scattered all around the stone conference table. Lightbulbs, batteries, tangles of wire. Other objects are scavenged from the room. He yanks a mirror off the wall and steals a sword from the suit of armor in the corner. It’s half shop class, half fairy tale junk sale.
“Hey, hija?” Glancing up from the circuit board that he’s fiddling with, he points a screwdriver. “See that telescope?”
“Yeah?”
“Could you grab it for me?”
“Planning on some stargazing?”
“Actually, I was hoping to remove a few of its refracting lenses.”<
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I lift the telescope over my shoulder and carry it in Dad’s direction. “Could you at least tell me what you’re working on?”
“Like I said, I’m preparing.”
“Preparing for what?”
Dad’s expression darkens. “For the Sorceress.”
A chill prickles my skin. As I look around the room, every shadow seems to pulse with possible danger. The Sorceress could be anywhere. And I honestly don’t see how all this random stuff is going to help us fight her.
But at least this mystery project provides a tiny bit of distraction from our current situation. Like the fact that Prince Fred and Xyler have been gone for way too long. With every minute that goes by, I worry about them more and more.
Dad continues his work. Disassembling the telescope and using its parts for his invention. A weird mash-up of scraps and technology and random junk—some from his toolbox, others from the room.
I stare at what he’s done so far. There are lightbulbs hooked up to a homemade battery. A box lined with mirrors and lenses. A sword wrapped in copper wire.
A half hour later, his work is interrupted by distant sounds from the hallway. I take a few steps toward the door, concentrating. I can hear the noise slightly better now. The echo of voices screaming.
“Do you hear that?” I ask.
Dad glances up from his work. He looks at me like someone who just came out of a deep dream.
The howling is growing louder.
“What is it?” he asks.
“I don’t know. Whoever it is, it sounds like they’re getting closer.”
Just to be safe, I start looking around for possible weapons. A screwdriver and a hammer. Holding one in each hand, I look like I’m about to build a birdhouse, not fight an evil army.
As the parade of echoing noises approaches, I begin to recognize some of the words they’re yelling.
“Rejoice! Prince Frederick is back!”
“The king and queen—they’re alive!”
“The grand duke is a traitor!”
The fear inside me dwindles away, instantly replaced by relief. The mob outside isn’t angry. They’re celebrating.