And here is the line she planned to deliver since her grand entrance.
“What game are you playing, Isabeau?”
“No game. I never fool around when it comes to debts owed. Haman may be deceased, but I live on. And if the promise was made to the one who survived, the vow remains binding.”
“The only debt owed here is yours. I assume a hundred years in the dungeons will suffice.”
Isabeau yawns. “Don’t be foolish, boy. Her Majesty the Fairy Queen is more powerful than you realize. If you think imprisoning me will hinder her, you are sincerely mistaken.”
The Fairy Queen? She’s surely bluffing. I have witnessed Fairies with my own two eyes—they lit up this very throne room minutes ago—but talk of a queen is the stuff of legend. A fable Nathaniel Archer relayed to me as a lad. The Fairy Queen is said to be im-mortal, older than the Verity itself.
“But enough chitchat,” Isabeau continues. “I merely dropped by to check on Elizabeth’s progress. To ensure she knows I have not forgotten what I am owed.”
That is all I require. Isabeau believes she has won this day, but I’m not so easily deterred from my final goal. “Now!” My bellow is sudden but the Guardians don’t hesitate. They’ve been awaiting the command, standing by while I extracted the information I sought.
They surround the Troll, one-story condos to her skyscraper.
Wren snatches a corner of Isabeau’s cape in her eagle’s beak and soars around the Troll in a spiral, wrapping it around her like a flag about a pole.
Preacher slices at her shins with his ax while a Guardian called Droid scales Isabeau as if she were a wall, holding his knife between his teeth, headed straight for the woman’s neck.
I reel my right arm back, ready to fling the broken glass at her eye. But the Troll merely cackles.
And, in the blink of an eye, Isabeau vanishes.
FIVE
Shine
I’ve been through this passage once before, my first week here. The grand tour was a little overwhelming. Secret doorways and hiding places snake between the castle walls. Thank the Verity for my Scrib memory, otherwise I might not be able to keep track of which passage leads where. This one, for instance, heads straight down the hill and then out to some stables in the Forest of Night—er, White. I keep forgetting the name changed when Shadow Territory ceased to exist.
The Flight Stables are stocked with horses and supplies and whatever else evacuees might require. Not that I need a secret passageway. I’m able to pass through any reflective surface using my Calling. I can even take Stormy with me. We could go far away from here, hide out until we think it’s safe.
Except we can’t. Because we’re not the only ones in danger. Better to head to the stables and see who else might need help. It’s what a queen would do.
And . . . even if we could go . . . can we? I couldn’t save Kuna. What if I can’t mirror walk either? Shudder. Focus. One thing at a time.
I feel around the wall near the descending spiral stairs for a switch. My right shoulder throbs. I roll it. Stormy gets the hint and straightens a little. It helps. Barely.
Please, please . . . Aha! Flip. The stairs illuminate along the sides like the aisles at a theater. Our path now visible, we descend.
The stairs go on forever, taunting us. When we finally reach the hall at the bottom, lit by inverted dome lamps on the low ceiling, Stormy begins mumbling. Several minutes pass before I decipher her words. Either they grow clearer, or I’m an expert at interpreting blubber-speak.
“He saved me. He saved me. He saved me.” Sobs release at intervals between each repeated phrase.
I take a deep breath. Earthy air expands my lungs. Question after question batters the forefront of my mind.
Who? Bam.
Why? Slam.
How? Wham.
At last we exit the hall. A hay-strewn path leads to a stack of hay bales, a pitchfork leaning against one end. Stormy breaks away, not even wincing at the strong manure scent. She slumps onto the nearest bale, clutches her head in her clawed hands, tugs at the purple ends of her hair.
I massage my sore shoulder and look around for someone who might sit with her. No one. Maybe the others are outside. “I’m going to see if I can find us some food and water. Okay?”
She doesn’t nod. The only indication she’s alive at all is the minute undulation of her curved back. I walk away with a backward glance. I won’t leave her too long. We just need some sustenance, maybe something to clean the blood—Kuna’s blood—off Stormy’s arms.
My thoughts disconnect and string together. Will I be able to get her to eat? What kind of sick monster crashes a coronation and starts shooting people? Why couldn’t we save Kuna? Where in the Reflections is the stupid supply closet?
Soft soil mutes my footsteps. I peek into a few of the stalls. Where are the horses? Did the others already leave? Uneasiness churns within. It’s so quiet. Too quiet. Mom, at least, should be here. This was the passage nearest her. She and Makai wouldn’t have taken off without me.
Unless . . . she has someone aside from me to care for now. My new baby brother or sister would’ve been her first priority. And Makai would’ve insisted she get as far away from the castle as possible, especially on the chance Isabeau was involved. The Guardians never found her after we defeated Jasyn. The Troll is still out there somewhere, hating Mom, seeking revenge.
Of course Mom isn’t here. No one’s waiting for us. Everyone would’ve assumed I was the Guardians’ first priority. There’d be no question in anyone’s mind Joshua had me covered. He still treats me as if I’m fragile. Breakable. As if I haven’t changed.
I thought I’d proven myself by this point. What’s it going to take to show him I’m not the girl who runs and hides at the slightest noise anymore?
I huff and pick up my pace. No use worrying about that now. The supply closet has to be here somewhere. I’ll grab some necessities, a pack if I can find one, and get Stormy out of here. If I’m still able to mirror walk, we could go to Lisel Island or Lynbrook Province. Maybe even the Third Reflection. My heart skips at the idea.
New York.
Home.
Ky.
It’s rare I allow myself to think of him outside my goal to destroy the Void. Because if I don’t keep it strictly business, strange things happen to my heart. Unwelcome things. Fluttery, achy, antiJoshua things.
Get it together. Now.
I’ve no idea where Ky went, but I do know he left to find his younger sister, Khloe—also my half sister, so weird. Jasyn said she was being well cared for. But by whom? And where? The Third’s as good a place to start as any. If we’re going away, we might as well make use of our time. I could find Ky, tell him of my secret search. The Void may have already become too much for him to bear. What if he hasn’t been able to find Khloe because of it? What if he needs the light of the Verity to quell the darkness within? What if he needs me?
Determination motivates my steps. The faster I find supplies, the sooner we can leave. Calm washes my nerves. Mom’s fine, she has Makai. The people have Joshua, a better king these past two months than the queen I’ve been today. But who does Ky have?
I’m sprinting through the stables now. These aren’t like the ones on the castle grounds. Instead of a U-shape, these form a grid. Maybe around the next corner—