“You’re mad,” Greta says. Millie nods agreement beside her, pale hair falling over her shoulder as we finish tying the bed sheets together into a makeshift rope. “If you get caught, the rest of our plans will go up in smoke.” She folds her arms across her chest. Greta and the girls will still make their attempt without me if I do not return in time, but we all know that their chances are far better if I am with them.
“I will not get caught. I’ve told you: if Ren is free, he can help us. And I can incapacitate some of the guards while I’m at it.” While they’ve seen my full form, I haven’t told them my tail can cause a man to sleep, for fear it may be a bitter subject. I’m not worried about the guards when it’s only Ren and me. In fact, I have every intention of putting as many guards as possible to sleep. The fewer who are awake when we go up to that tower, the easier our escape will be.
“Is Ren really worth the risk?” Bree chimes in, scowling. Several of the girls knew of him because everyone did. He was the king’s messenger. “Besides, King Oliver must have an idea where he went. Someone will come for him eventually.”
I finish coiling the rope and tie one end to the door handle. A heavy steel bolt lies across the door to our room. Even if I could pick the lock, I couldn’t get out without making a terrible noise and drawing far too much attention. Flying out the window and circling the palace might also be seen by unwanted eyes.
Scaling the castle walls, however, would be much less expected.
“That is true. But by then it might be too late. I wasn’t always like this,” I say, gesturing to my wings and tail. “Once I was a human girl, and Ren was . . . he was a dear friend. I have to try.”
Part of me wishes to tell them I was Princess Rosabel, but I fear Delia’s reaction. She’s so skittish, she can barely stand to look at me. But ever since we mentioned Ren, she’s been hovering nearby listening to our conversation.
“Ren can help us. I know it. He’s a good friend, and very smart.” Delia gives me the briefest of smiles, but it is enough to fuel my resolve. In this, and this alone, she and I are on exactly the same page.
“Smart enough to land himself in the dungeons,” Bree mutters. Delia’s face falls.
Greta sighs. “Fine. Just promise you’ll be back by sundown, Kym. If you’re missing when the guards arrive, Ensel may decide to throw us all off the cliff.”
I squeeze her arm. “You have my word.”
Tucking my cloak behind my wings, I tie the loose end of the rope around my waist and hop onto the window ledge. The height is dizzying. It must be the cliff. I’ve never felt this way while flying before. The water below is dark and frothy, so unlike the clear rushing river water I’m accustomed to.
So much water. So vast.
It crashes against the cliff below in angry waves that grow higher with every turn. The beast lurks in those depths. I wonder if it’s as big as Batu. I suspect it cannot be half so kind.
I take a deep breath, shoving down the pang in my heart when I think of my dragon brother. He is too far away to help me now. The castle is set on a hill, so the lowest levels sit below ground in the front of the building and have windows looking out over the water in the back. I only have to climb down for a few feet, then sneak back in one of the windows and make my way to the dungeons. For Ren.
I lower myself down. Immediately, the wind buffets me against the wall, yanking my hair out of my thick braid and tossing it back into my eyes. Clinging to the rope, I work my way down the limestone walls. I resist using my wings, but the wind whips and twists and slams me into the walls until I don’t know which way is up. My wings spring out on instinct, flapping and using the wind to steady me.
It takes a moment to get my bearings; then I continue the slow progress. I pray no one looks out a window. I glance down again, and instantly regret it. A dark, hulking shadow moves beneath the water. Waves slide over it, revealing its massive, mottled green shell. My hands tremble. I remember how I felt the first time I faced Batu—utter terror. I thought he wanted to eat me.
This creature definitely does.
I’m glad I’m not flying. The dizziness would make that far more difficult here than over land. Concentrating on climbing is hard enough. I force myself to keep moving.
Do not look down, I tell myself, but it’s a hard promise to keep. I creep along, buoyed by my wings, and finally reach the lower level. Voices echo from inside the nearby window.
I move toward the next, hoping this room will be vacant. No such luck. The sound of dishwater splattering and hushed whispers comes from it. A third window is farther off, and I move as quickly as possible. The wind picks up, and again I inadvertently look down.
At the very bottom of the cliff, the dark shadow rises, the top of the scaled shell peeking over the rippling waves. A black tentacle stretches out on the rocks. It writhes in the sunlight, revealing the round suckers beneath that attach to the rocks when it slams back down.
That’s what it uses to drag the girls to the depths. I shudder, pull my eyes up, and crawl slowly to the next window, arms burning.
I wait above the windowsill for an entire minute, but hear no voices. I peek over the top, and find the room—a servant’s chamber—blessedly empty. I slip inside, untie the rope, and rub the tension from my arms. With regret, I toss the rope out the window. My plan is to return by putting to sleep the guards in front of the girls’ room, hiding them in an alcove or unlocked chamber, and sneaking in the main door. I can’t leave such a telltale sign dangling in plain sight. Greta is ready and waiting to pull the rope back up.
In the shadowed corner of the room, I unfold my crude map. I’m not far from the kitchens, which puts me halfway to the dungeon entrance.
Before I venture into the hall, I check the position of the sun—it took longer than I planned to traverse the outer walls. This rescue will have to be a swift one.
With my cloak settled over my shoulders and my tail wrapped around my leg, I venture into the hall. Voices come from the kitchens, and I hurry in the opposite direction. This section of the palace is as drab as I expect, all stone walls and dirty floors. Candles and rusted steel sconces dot the walls, providing meager light. The shadows are plentiful, which is just how I prefer it. I am a creature of the night and dark corners.
When I hear the tromp of boots on stone, I vanish into an alcove, holding my breath and flattening my body into the small space. The pair of guards passes by, muttering something about food and courtiers. When their steps die down, I wriggle out and head for the dungeons once more.
The trick will be getting in and out without anyone raising the alarm. But I have my ways—and a few tricks left from my time with Barnabas.
As far as Greta knows, the only entrance into the dungeons is through the far tower. I have to duck into two more alcoves along the way, but soon I’m close enough to hear the sound of the guards’ laughter trickling into the hall. My pace slows. A wide doorway gives entry to the room, and I catch a glimpse of several men at a table in the center.
I wait in the shadows, eavesdropping. Two more voices join the others. They made the rounds in the dungeons, but now rejoin their friends. A smile slides over my face. Perfect.
I pull the last vial of sleeping powder that Barnabas made from my belt. I know now it is magic, not science, that gives it power. But today, that power will serve my purpose, not his.
I slip out of the shadows and toss the vial inside.
It shatters, and sounds of confusion follow. A guard tries to run out the door, but the white smoke follows, curling around him until he’s engulfed. It seeps into his skin like water into a sponge. He drops to the floor and I drag him back inside the guardhouse. I steal a set of keys from the largest man, who is hunched over the table snoring. The guards were gambling, and their gold and silver sit in a pouch on the table. I pocket it and dash down the stairs into the dungeon.
The walls are dank and grimy, which I discover when I reach out to steady myself on the narrow descent. I wipe my hand on
my cloak in disgust.
The stairs take me to a warren of cells and halls. Men and women with hollow eyes, distended bellies, and parched lips stare at me as I pass. No Ren. What crime did they commit against Ensel? I wish I could come back and free them all, but I can’t risk attracting that much attention.
Not until the girls are safe.
Perhaps someday I will be able to free them from Ensel’s cruelty.
After passing four halls with no sign of Ren, I begin to despair. The last conversation I overheard about him was yesterday. Is he dead? Did he find his own way out? A faint hope blooms, but is quickly extinguished. The prisoners are chained to walls at the backs of the cells. They can’t even reach the doors.
No, Ren is either here or dead.
I scour the next two halls, and my diligence is rewarded. At the end of the last one, a boy with brown hair, now dirty from the dungeon grime, is balled up on the floor with his back to me. My heart soars.
With no time to lose, I fly down the hall. “Ren!” I hiss, and his head snaps up.
I try the keys until I find one that fits the lock, and the cell door swings open. Ren stumbles to his feet, chains clinking.
“You came for me?” He stares in amazement. His clothes are ill fitting, hanging off him strangely. The king must not feed his prisoners well, if at all. “But I betrayed you.”
I smile sadly. “I know.”
He shakes his head, holding out his shackled hands. “Do you have anything to help with these?”
I fumble with the keys, then give up and use my claws instead. To my surprise, Ren doesn’t flinch at the sight of my animal parts.
“Come on, we have no time to lose. You need to be free of the palace before I get the girls out.”
Ren stands up straighter. “I’m coming with you. Delia is my responsibility.”
“She’s my responsibility too.”
“You don’t understand, I—” He runs his hands over his face and sighs. “Rosabel. When she found out the wizard was coming for her, she left a letter, asking me to look after Delia if the worst happened. I’m doing a fine job of it, aren’t I?” He scowls at the floor.
“I will get her out. I promise. But I need your help.”
I take Ren’s hand and lead him from the dungeons up the narrow stairs to the guardhouse. It’s so strange to feel the warmth of his fingers, after everything that’s happened. Yet it still thrills me to be near him.
The burning hatred he felt last week seems to have cooled. Perhaps someday he will forgive me completely.
Ren marvels at the slumbering guards, poking one with his foot and grabbing a sword from another. I motion for him to follow me to the side door and creak it open and glance outside.
“The coast is clear. You’ll have to run for the trees, and make your way down the path to the village. Are you well enough to do it?”
“Yes.”
“Good. When you get to the village, see what you can buy with this.” I hand him the gold I swiped from the guards, “A cart and a donkey would at least aid our getaway.”
He pockets the gold. “Where should we meet?”
“In the forest, by the twin trees.” I peek out the guardhouse door once more. “Go, and be careful.”
He smiles fleetingly, and steps through the door. Before he goes, he turns back and whispers, “I’m sorry.”
Then he is gone.
It doesn’t take long to pile the sleeping guards’ bodies in the corner of the room. Returning to the girls’ chamber is another matter. It is getting late, and I nearly make up my mind to attempt a flight back, but the wind howls louder than before. The waves crash higher, and thick black tentacles creep up the side of the cliff.
I can’t bring myself to risk it. Not now.
I can’t risk a shortcut that might end my life when we’re so close to freedom. I must live so I can free these girls.
Instead, I tiptoe through the halls, ducking out of sight at the slightest hint of footsteps or voices. It is painfully slow going. I spent longer than I’d hoped in the dungeons and the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon.
When I reach the stairs, footsteps ring over my head, and I scurry to the crawlspace beneath it. My hammering heart threatens to break my rib cage. My tail and claws ache to be of use.
But here they are useless. The guards left unconscious in the guardhouse are bad enough, but I cannot leave a trail of sleeping bodies in my wake. Not if I want to get everyone out alive.
I hear a snippet of the conversation, and the name Barnabas brings me to full attention.
“Should be here within the week, they say,” a woman’s voice drawls.
A man sighs. “I do not like him. He makes the king even more insufferable.”
Barnabas is on his way here. Even more reason to hurry.
When their footsteps fade, and no one else appears on the stairs, I bound up two at time.
Our hallway is in the unkempt area of the castle, far from the finery of the throne room and dining hall. Two guards stand on duty in front of the door to the girls’ room. Few compared to the guardhouse, but effective nonetheless. The room has a single door, and the only other way out is the window that hangs over the cliff.
I slip into a nearby room to check the trail of the sun.
It is almost dusk. As soon as the sun disappears from view, Ensel and his guard will come to retrieve us.
According to Greta, they don’t just take one girl—they take everyone up to the tower and make them watch. It’s a sickening display of power, designed to torment the girls into submission. Be good, and you might not be next is the message they drill into them.
I don’t have much time, and I need those guards out of the way. Our door is halfway down the hall—perhaps I can distract them. I search the room for something I might be able to throw down the stairs, causing enough noise that they’ll investigate, but not enough to rouse the whole palace.
But before I find anything that would work, heavy boots tromp down a hall at the front of the palace. Guards, several of them. The sun slips away outside.
I’m out of time.
My stomach knots. I have no choice but to fly to the other window.
As though reading my mind, the wind slams the shutters open, startling me and sending me airborne.
Instinct. I may never fully get the hang of it.
I settle on the windowsill. The sound of boots grows louder. I leap off, catching the vicious wind in my wings. It buoys me up too high, too fast, and I spin out of control. It takes all my strength to avoid crashing into the castle walls.
I fly hard against the ocean wind, never looking down this time, eyes constantly focused on the window several yards away at the midpoint of the castle. I ride the air currents up, until I’m above the window. Then I plummet down, praying Ensel and the guards haven’t reached the girls’ room yet. The wind picks up as I get closer, making my stomach do flips.
I reach the window and grab onto the sill, digging my claws into the frame with all my might. The wind tries to rip me away, but Greta and Millie yank me inside.
“We’ve been worrying about you for the last hour. Haven’t left the window since the sun began to set,” Greta says.
“Thank you,” I say, untangling my cloak from my body and trying to make myself presentable. “That wind is deadly.” I shiver. “And so is that beast.”
Greta’s face turns grim. “You saw it?”
I nod.
Millie shudders. “Those tentacles.”
Bree, skittish little red-haired Fay, and several others surround me, talking all at once. Even Delia, who has largely avoided me, draws near.
“Did you do it? Is Ren out of the castle?” Delia asks quietly. If she were not at my elbow, I’d never have heard her.
“Yes, he is. He’s going to meet us in the forest.”
Men’s voices and the sound of the iron latch outside our door being removed echo from the hall.
“We’re ready?” I ask Greta.
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She smiles. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”
The girls hold out the dull spoons we’ve spent the last few days sharpening into knives, then bury them back in their skirts. I’d prefer they not need to use them, but I fear that will not be possible.
Any loss of life is on my head.
When the guards arrive to round us up and bind our hands, we are ready and waiting, and pretending to be the docile girls they think we are. Ensel is not with them. On the trek to the tower, we are silent. I know the plan is to offer Delia and me to the Sonzeeki, and I try to say something encouraging to her. But she simply nods and gives me a thin smile in return.
It’s best she doesn’t yet know I’m her sister reborn. She’s too jittery as it is. Ren’s rescue has calmed her somewhat, but finding out her older sister was transformed into a monster would only unbalance her further.
The trip feels shorter this time, probably because I know what lies at the end. I count a half dozen guards, including Ensel’s captain, Albin, in the room when we arrive, making an even dozen with our escort.
Most I can subdue, and the older girls will overwhelm the rest. The little ones like Emmy will take cover where they can.
King Ensel stands by the window as we’re ushered in, examining his “pet” with undisguised glee. My stomach turns. He enjoys this too much. I wonder if the rumors are wrong, if he angered the Sonzeeki purposely.
No wonder he and Barnabas are allies.
He greets us. “Welcome. Not a minute too soon. Our friend in the cove is getting impatient. Good thing we’re giving him two meals tonight.”
Greta and I exchange a look. The ropes tying the hands of the oldest girls are already loose and ready to rip free—the ends of those spoons are filed to an edge thin enough to surreptitiously cut through them while we journeyed to the tower. We’ve left just enough rope unsevered to keep the bonds around our wrists for the benefit of the guards.
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