Chapter 19
JACOB
HOHENZOLLERN CASTLE
Isnatch a candle from one of the tables and withdraw my sword before standing over the stairway that plunges into the floor.
“You can’t possibly mean to go down there,” Prince William says, plugging his nose. “Reeks like dead snakes.”
“We could ask our escort.” Rumpelstiltskin eyes the door. “He should be waking from his trance soon.”
“Then we’ll need to hurry.” Taking a deep breath, I descend the stone steps into the thick mist.
Cool air embraces me. My spurred boots echo through the silence.
There are no railings, so one misstep will send me over the edge.
My candle wavers against the darkness as the stairs sink deeper and deeper.
The scent of rotting meat assails me. Could this be a trap?
Surely, the Enchantress has enemies, and in turn, her enemies are ours.
The stairs end on a cracked stone floor.
The sound of creaking metal cuts through the air.
My body tenses. I spin in a circle, lifting my candle and squinting into the misty gloom.
To my right, there’s a wooden table cluttered with dusty parchments, old books, charms, and jars filled with liquid that glows a wicked emerald in the candlelight.
A five-prong candelabra sits in the corner. I light it with my waning candle.
Now I can see where the creaking comes from. Large, rusted bird cages hang throughout the room, swaying on aged hinges. A body is stuffed into one of the cages. I choke back bile.
Mist drifts out from a large kettle dangling in the fireplace. Chains drape from the walls, and bones litter the floor. My mouth dries up, pulse thrumming against my temples.
This is a place of death.
I edge back to the table. My hand shakes as I leaf through the pages. Dread fills me. The words are the same style as those in the Enchantress’s contract, but I can’t place the origins, even though I’m fluent in many languages. Footsteps pound against the stone stairs.
“Jacob!” Wilhelm calls out, holding a candle in front of himself. He’s followed closely by the prince and Rumpelstiltskin. Once the three hit the ground, they pause, sucking in breaths of horror.
“All that is holy,” Wilhelm gasps, “what is this place?”
“I don’t know what to make of it,” I admit.
“And here you thought I was trouble,” Rumpelstiltskin says.
“Is that a body in that cage?” Prince William’s voice trembles, inching closer to the swinging nightmare.
“Looks recent.” Wilhelm grimaces.
The prince swears. “It’s Claude. Those are his clothes. I don’t understand. Why would they do this?”
“It means someone here knows more about you than they’re letting on,” I warn the prince.
“We need to leave.” Prince William grabs my arm. “Now.”
But I’m distracted by one of the scrolls. “Old Norse.” I pick up the aged manuscript, edges frayed. Unlike the other books, this one holds words from our world.
Wilhelm draws to my side, examining it with the same curiosity. “What does it say?”
I point to the word volva at the top, fear clutching me. “I’ll need time to translate it, but volva means witch.” I tuck it into my bag along with a few others. “The prince is right. We need to get out of here, and quickly.”
“I can’t leave Claude in this dungeon.” The prince starts to open the cage. “He deserves a proper burial.”
Wilhelm holds him back, hushing him. “Someone is in the library above.”
We freeze as dark forms stand over the entrance above. “You down there,” a voice calls from above. “Come up this instant in the name of Prince Hermann. You’ve entered a restricted area.”
“Now you’ve done it.” Rumpelstiltskin wiggles his fingers, golden strands ready to fly. “Not to worry, I’ll rescue you all.”
“Please don’t use magic in front of others,” Wilhelm says, rubbing the back of his head like he might pull his hair out.
“You can’t let them see me,” Prince William says. “Princess Maria believes I’m a frog, and I mean to keep it that way.”
“Or this is her room,” I point out, “and she knows everything about you and your family.”
A small, rounded door by the fireplace catches my eye. I crack it open, thrusting the candelabra into the gloom. Mist rushes past me, seeping into a long stone tunnel. It’s either our escape or prison.
“This way,” I whisper to our group.
Boots clatter down the steps. The prince hesitates by Claude’s body.
A guard races across the space with a sword and reaches for William, but Rumpelstiltskin’s golden threads shoot out and wrench the sword from the man’s grasp.
More threads wind around the second guard’s arms and ankles.
They shout curses, but it gives us enough time to slam the wooden door into place.
Rumpelstiltskin wraps more strands around the handle to keep it firmly in place.
“Don’t say I never helped you,” he says.
“Good work,” Wilhelm says. “You did a fine job.”
I roll my eyes. Nothing Rumpelstiltskin does is for our benefit. I look for the prince. “Where’s Prince William?”
Wilhelm scoops up a small dark object from the ground. “I think I found him.”
I’m about to unleash a lecture on how this isn’t the time for shapeshifting nonsense when the door shudders as something slams into it. They’re coming.
The three of us bolt down the musty shaft. A pale circle of light gleams ahead. Minutes later, we stumble out of the darkness and into thick pines and snow. I suck in a deep breath, realizing how close we came to being imprisoned again.
“I’ll put on the disguise and get the horses,” Wilhelm says, dipping his hand into his pocket and procuring a slimy green frog, plopping it into my palm.
He pulls out the cloak and wig that have come in handy more times than I’d like to admit.
When I open my mouth to object, Wilhelm holds up a hand.
“The hourglass is still nearly full, and I have plenty of energy. This time, you can stay behind and rest.”
“Leaving me to babysit the prince and trickster?”
A twinkle flashes in Wilhelm’s eyes. “So it appears.”