by Marissa Burt
Then she turned around. Her brows were knit together in a little frown. “And, Una. What is the one thing that you seek?”
Una had meant to ask all her questions about what had really happened to the Muses. But she didn’t think that was the one thing Alethia meant. What did she seek? She wanted to know why she had been Written In, of course. What she was supposed to do in Story. So many questions. And she wanted so many things! She wanted to belong, no longer to be the outcast hiding away in the library or pretending to be someone she wasn’t. She wanted to be brave, to stop being so afraid. But she didn’t know if Alethia could help her with all of this.
Even on such a short acquaintance, Una felt that she could sit comfortably in silence with this woman. They sat this way while Una sorted through her thoughts. Deep down, buried beneath everything, she wanted to know why she had been left alone. A small voice that she never acknowledged wanted to know why her parents had abandoned her. But she seriously doubted that someone in this world could answer that question for her.
Una took a deep breath. “Can you tell me why I’ve been Written In? Why I’m here in this world?” she finally asked.
Una heard Indy’s intake of breath as she said the words and realized too late that he now knew her secret.
But Alethia looked anything but surprised. She nodded, as though this was exactly what she had been waiting for. “I can answer part of your question, Una,” she said. “But first, Endeavor must rest.” She waved her hand before Indy, and he slumped into a deep sleep.
“Your Tale is yours to tell,” Alethia said calmly. “But only when you will.” She sat back in her chair and looked sadly at Una. “You’ve been Written In, because once upon a time, I Wrote you Out of this world.”
“What?”
Alethia’s words sounded heavy, as though she was unwilling to say them. “I have often wondered if it was a wise decision. Some of my sisters counseled against it, but the others agreed with me.” She turned to face Una and looked her straight in the eyes.
“Una, you are the daughter of the Enemy.”
Chapter 32
Peter first stopped off at the Healer’s house. The Healer wanted to know how Sam had been wounded.
“Beast,” Peter said, edging toward the door. “Wild beast.” He thrust enough gold marks at the woman to stop her questions. “Take good care of him.” He left the Healer’s house quickly. He had lost a lot of time when he blacked out, and now it was nearly dusk. He needed to find Professor Edenberry. If Elton had gotten into the exam, Edenberry would know how.
Edenberry wasn’t in the classroom, and Peter thought to try his cabin next. He knew that the professor lived in the forest on the other side of Birchwood’s gardens. The sky was clouding over as he raced down the twisting garden paths. It looked like a thunderstorm was moving in. Sure enough, as he reached the cabin door, Peter felt the first drops of rain. Pushing his way inside, he found Professor Edenberry waiting for him.
“Well, boy?” Edenberry asked. “Where’s Elton?”
“How did you—?” Peter began.
“I saw you leave. Let’s quit pretending, Peter. I know Una’s a WI, and you’ve got to believe that I intend to protect her. I also know Elton’s after her. Where is he?”
Peter told him about the beasts and the fight on the dais.
Professor Edenberry tugged at his poof of white hair. “This is worse than I thought.” He turned and called to the back of the cabin. “Griselda. Elton’s in the exam.”
The dryad emerged from behind a curtained-off doorway. “But won’t the examiners see if he takes her from there? It will be read by everyone.”
The wiry old man shook his head. “If he can break into the exam, he can change it. No one will know what he’s done. Or where he’s taken Una.” He placed his palms together as though he was praying. “What I want to know is, why now? He could have taken her at any time with much less fuss.”
Peter felt like he had been punched in the gut. He hadn’t thought about Una being kidnapped. “She has Alethia’s book.” He licked his lips. “And Elton wants it. I think he’s the one who’s been destroying them.”
Edenberry didn’t ask him how he knew about the burned books. Or how he knew about Elton. Instead, he turned to Griselda. “Get the tray,” he said.
Griselda disappeared and returned with a silver tray, a little mound resting in the center of it. She held it in front of Peter. “You mean like this?”
Peter peered closer. It was a burned book. He poked a tentative finger at it and sharply withdrew his finger. “Ouch!”
“Don’t touch it!” Professor Edenberry came over and roughly grabbed Peter’s singed finger. “Serves you right, you fool boy!”
Peter sat down on a wooden stool and sucked on his sore finger. He pulled it out of his mouth long enough to ask, “It was one of the Muse books, wasn’t it?”
Edenberry tugged on a worn pair of gardening gloves and gingerly examined the little pile. “We believe so.”
Griselda set the tray down. “I went to the Hollow yesterday to search for my tree.” She stared at the tray. “I found this instead. This is bad. Very bad.”
At that moment, Peter didn’t care what Edenberry and his parents were up to. Or that it had been a secret for so long. Edenberry and Griselda were his only hope for rescuing Una. And every second counted. He slowly pulled the scroll from his pocket and placed it on the table. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s worse than that.”
It only took them a few minutes to read Archimago’s confession, but to Peter it felt like hours. Had Elton found Una? No doubt Horace would wrap Una up as a present and give her to Elton if it would save his own skin. Peter was counting on the Truepenny kid to protect her.
Griselda was weeping, tears running down her cheeks. “The Muses,” she breathed.
When Edenberry looked up, his face was gray. He reached a hand behind him to steady himself and then sat on a low table. He set the paper down and stared at it as though it might attack him. “The Muses aren’t gone after all.”
Griselda wiped her eyes. “I’ve been telling you that for years, Jack,” she said matter-of-factly. “Some of us never believed the Talekeeper lies. The Muses kept their oaths.”
“All but one,” Peter said with a shiver. “Do you know anything about Fidelus? The Enemy?”
“No.” Griselda’s green eyes almost looked like they glowed. “But from this account, it sounds like he’s imprisoned somewhere.”
“For now,” Peter said grimly. He told them about the Red Enchantress and how intent she was on finding the rest of the Muse books. Peter didn’t know how they meant to do it, but he was sure now about what she and Elton were up to. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He heard with crystal clarity the conversation from Elton’s office. When he returns . . . His heart did a triple somersault. He swallowed, but his mouth was completely dry. “The Red Enchantress . . .”
Peter thought he knew what was coming. He thought he was prepared for the news. But still, his heart froze in his chest when he heard Griselda finish the sentence.
“. . . is about to bring the Enemy back to Story.”
Chapter 33
The Enemy. The words echoed in Una’s head. Chills danced along her spine, and her hands began to shake. She set her mug of chocolate down and willed herself to be calm, willed herself back to five minutes ago, when she’d felt so happy and peaceful. “The Enemy?” she said, staring at the puddle of now-melted cheese on the plate before her. She was afraid of what she might see on Alethia’s face. Probably the same horror she felt on her own. Daughter of the horrible Oathbreaker who did all those awful things? “But . . .” Her voice broke.
Alethia came over and sat on the arm of Una’s chair. “Una, I know the truth is hard to hear, but the only way I know how to tell it is clearly and directly.”
The huge lump in Una’s throat hurt too much to talk.
Alethia laid her hand gently on Una’s arm. “There is so much to tell you, s
o much you don’t know, and much of it has long been forgotten—a fruit of the Enemy’s plans. But, you see, I have not forgotten,” Alethia went on. “I was there.”
Una looked up at the ageless face before her. How old was Alethia? “I don’t understand,” Una replied. “I thought this all happened a long time ago. I’m only twelve years old.”
Indy’s chin dropped to his chest, and he gave a loud snore.
Alethia smiled and said in a whisper, “It would seem that way to you, I know. Time passes differently in this world when you have been Written Out of it.” Alethia stood and smoothed her skirts. “He wasn’t always the Enemy, you know. He once was a faithful servant.” Her voice grew soft. “My brother. Fidelus, he was called then. ‘Loyal one.’ He wrote many Tales and was famous for his trustworthiness and his service to Story.”
Just then, a terrible screeching sound came from outside. Alethia dashed through a side door, and Una followed her out to the back garden. It must have once been a place of blossoming beauty, tended with care. Now, everywhere Una looked seemed like winter. A wrought iron gate led to gravel paths that made a maze through untamed shrubbery and bare trees. Alethia ran over to a windswept hill and scanned the abandoned paths. After a few moments, she gave a little cry of alarm, and Una peered through the climbing ivy of the wrought iron. Off in the distance she could see flashes of light, and Una pushed open the reluctant gate and stepped through.
“Too late,” a woman’s sultry voice said from behind her. “Milady Alethia.” The last sounded like a curse.
Una ducked behind the nearest bush and peeked back. It looked like Alethia had tried to run into the house, but a Lady cloaked in scarlet was at the door, a sheaf of papers held aloft in her hands. Una knew at once it was the Red Enchantress, and, from inside her red cloak, she was laughing maniacally.
“At last!” she screamed, and pulled a book out from under her cloak.
“Duessa! Do not do this,” Alethia commanded, one pale hand extended in warning.
Una crouched lower. This was not the kindly Lady who had served them cocoa. Alethia’s anger made her look as hard as stone. The icy claw of fear gripped Una’s heart, and she tried to steady her breathing.
But Duessa only laughed. “You think to sway me?” She shoved the papers she was holding into the book and cast a flaming ball of light toward Alethia.
Alethia deflected it with a flick of her fingers and took a step toward her foe.
Duessa opened her arms wide. “Much has changed since you left, Alethia.” More fireballs, faster than the first, shot toward the Muse. “I am not so easily cowed.”
Small snowflakes began to fall, covering the air between the women. Alethia stood, frozen like some beautiful statue, the Enchantress’s missiles quenched before they even reached her.
Una swallowed, but her mouth was dry. In between fireballs, the Enchantress worked the loose pages into the Muse book. Alethia began to walk steadily toward her, extinguishing the flames as fast as they came. Why wasn’t Alethia fighting back?
“You are the last Muse,” the Enchantress was saying triumphantly to Alethia. “You’ve given me the final piece.” She held the book high with both hands, a crazed look on her face. “Now we will see him!”
A blaze of red light shot into the air around the Red Enchantress, and the heat of it blasted Una off her feet and jolted her back to her senses. She had to find somewhere to hide. She didn’t know what the Enchantress would do if she found her there, but it couldn’t be good. She crept down the nearest path, bending low behind the skeletons of dying bushes. Already the sound of the Enchantress’s mocking voice was fainter.
But Alethia’s clear tones cut across the air. “You are not of his blood,” she said. “You cannot free him.” And then Una heard Alethia’s laughter, hard and merciless, and Duessa’s scream of fury. Una moved faster, running aimlessly through the maze of deserted gardens. Every turn she took led her farther away from Alethia’s battle and deeper into the desolate foliage.
The snow was falling harder now, and Una’s toes were numb. Her mind felt nearly as dull. She couldn’t make sense of Alethia’s words, couldn’t piece together what the Red Enchantress was doing with the Muse book. Was she trying to destroy it like the one in the Merriweathers’ potting shed? But every thought led to what Alethia had told her back in the house. Daughter of the Enemy kept echoing through her head. Could it really be possible that she was born in this world? That her whole childhood had taken place in a strange and foreign land? She thought of all the foster homes she had lived in, all the years spent wondering about her parents, only to find out the unwelcome truth. Una stumbled and fell onto the gravel path. The strain of the past hours had finally caught up with her, and she wanted nothing more than a place to rest.
She struggled up and somehow kept walking. She saw a stone bench across the way. A few more steps and she could stop. But before she reached it, a figure jumped out in front of her on the path.
“Fancy meeting you here, Una!” Elton said in a syrupy-sweet voice, but she could see the malice in his eyes.
Adrenaline coursed through Una. She sprang forward, but Elton was faster.
He grabbed her arm. “Yes, my pet,” he said, “you led us straight to Alethia’s house. Once you opened her book, it was a small thing for the Red Enchantress to follow your trail.” He jerked her closer. “You’re all alone, so let’s just quit pretending. Be a good girl and come with me.”
“Let go of me!” Una cried. She twisted her arm, but it was no use.
Elton cuffed her hard across the face. “You’ll come with me if it’s the last thing you do.” His eyes shone wickedly. “We can’t have you running around Story spreading your little lies, now, can we?”
The metallic taste of blood filled Una’s mouth, and her ears were ringing. She felt like she was floating above everything, that she was on the outside looking in on an unhappy scene. “Manners, manners, Mr. Elton. What will the other Talekeepers say?” Her voice sounded like it was very far away.
Elton sneered at her. “You think any of the Talekeepers will hear of this? That anyone’s reading this exam? Stupid girl! The Talekeepers are nothing. By the time we’re finished here, it will be too late for them to do anything, no matter what some little brat says. He will be back in Story.”
The garden snapped back into focus. The Enemy. That was who Elton meant. She pushed back hard against Elton, and he scrambled to hold on to her. One hand was free. She could almost reach her dagger. Elton’s grasp was weakening. She lifted her knee and aimed a well-placed blow at Elton’s middle.
He groaned and let go of her. She was free. She turned around and ran straight into Horace Wotton.
He trapped her with his arms, more tightly than Elton had. “I don’t think so, little Una.” Horace’s voice was close to her ear. Una felt like she was suffocating. Her arms were pinned to her side, and her face mashed into Horace’s chest. No matter how she struggled, his viselike grip pinched tighter.
“Very good, my boy.” Elton’s voice came up behind her. “Very good.”
“Horace. Please,” Una managed.
“Shut up,” he said. Elton was tying her hands roughly behind her with a piece of coarse rope. Horace stuffed a filthy handkerchief into her mouth.
Una gagged as the foul taste of it pressed against her tongue. Her eyes watered as she glared back at Horace’s leering face. His mouth was twisted into an ugly little smile. She kicked him hard in the shins, and he swore.
He pushed her hard, down to the ground. “Stay!” he said, pointing at her as if she were a dog.
“Well done, Horace,” Elton said, brushing at his rumpled suit. “Now we need to find the boy.”
Chapter 34
The rain pounded on Edenberry’s cabin. It was storming in earnest now, and every so often Peter could hear rumbles of muffled thunder. The room was cold, and it felt like they had been talking for hours.
“We need to do something,” Peter said. “Talking isn’t
going to help Una.”
“Una’s not the only one to worry about,” Edenberry said. His tone was harsh, and he looked worried. “Professor Thornhill has been missing all day. And I don’t like that Snow never showed up for her exam. Something’s not right.”
Peter made a fist with one hand and punched it into the other palm. Now Snow’s in danger? It was like his Heroics practical all over again. Two girls for the Hero to save, and he didn’t have a clue how to get to either of them. Only this time he couldn’t fail.
“Indy will protect Una,” Mr. Truepenny said.
Peter clenched his fists tighter. That’s what he was worried about. Who was to say any of them could trust Indy? Or Indy’s father, for that matter?
Mr. Truepenny had shown up several hours before, a tall bundle of crackling energy, dressed in rich blue robes. Peter knew him at once to be the mysterious man Thornhill had secretly met at the cathedral.
What Peter didn’t understand was why they didn’t do anything. Well, much of anything. Professor Edenberry had sent messages, and they talked around in circles a lot. Mr. Truepenny had ranted about the corruption of the Talekeepers and the oppression of the masses. Everyone had whispered about the Enemy in hushed tones. Peter scowled. But what good is all that when Elton might be kidnapping Una right now?
At that moment, Griselda slipped through the door, letting in a cold sliver of air and the whiff of damp earth. She had gone out earlier to see what she could learn. Now her clothes hung on her wetly, drops of water puddling off them onto the floor. “The other examiners said they never saw Thornhill this morning.” She looked at Edenberry. “No one was happy about having to call you in at the last minute. They went on and on about revoking Thornhill’s exam privileges, and I just now got away.” She stood over a potted plant and wrung the water out of her braids. “No one else has seen a trace of her.”