Chapter 31
Month Six
T he king has arrived, along with the poor girl from Swordstead, at The Magenta Inn. When I query what this means with Inez, she gives me a sad look.
“They are a week away at most, miss,” she answers.
“A week?” I screech. “But they were not due to return for three weeks!”
“I believe it may have been a mistranslation.” Inez taps a finger off her chin. “The note came from Swordstead and werewolves written language is quite rudimentary.”
I sink into my seat, staring into the void.
“Fuck!” I scream suddenly, causing Inez to jump. “What are we going to do? We have no plan, and our research has gone nowhere.”
The image of the tunnel invades my mind. I push it firmly to the side.
“We do still have a week to think of something. Oh! Perhaps you could make a case for remaining in the castle as staff? Instead of…”
She trails off, unable to finish her sentence. The suggestion makes me gag, to be stuck under the king’s thumb as his servant while also watching Theo wed someone else. But I am rapidly running out of options.
“Maybe,” I admit. “It could give us more time to…I do not know. Do something .”
I sigh heavily and stand, picking up the leather book I had taken back from my art room.
“My apologies, Inez, we can go through your mother’s journal together tomorrow morning,” I tell her, the weight of it in my hands. “Tonight, I need to…think.”
“Of course, miss.”
“Is…is Vanya available?” I ask. I recall the queen’s altar she took us to and wonder what else she knew about the queen.
“I am afraid not, miss. I believe she accompanied Eliza to the nurse after a nasty burn.”
“Ah. I will call for her in the morning then. Send my regards to Eliza, please, if you see her.”
“Of course, miss.” Inez bobs a curtsy and leaves.
I sit on my bed, hunched. The weight of a thousand grains of sand trickling through the hourglass rests on my shoulders. I desperately wish for Aunt Meena’s help and try to imagine what she would say.
Look at the facts. Remember your studies. Keep your head clear.
I let my face fall into my hands and groan. None of that helps me now. Once again, the tunnel pushes itself into my mind, and I sit up abruptly.
The tunnel. My escape. I glance out of the window, judging how high the moon is. With a rough estimate, I have several hours before the sun comes back up, and I need to be back in the castle. And I will come back.
After I have seen Aunt Meena.
I fasten a thick cloak around my shoulders, a worry gnawing at me that I may be putting her safety at risk. I cannot let anyone in Mossgarde see me lest they report it to the king. I pull on comfortable boots and wait at my door, listening for the guard shift change.
As soon as the guard stationed outside walks away, his armour rattling down the halls, I slip out before the next one can arrive. The unused bedchamber is several doors down, so I scurry over as quickly as I can, my boots silent on the carpeted floors. When I find it, I sneak in and close the door softly behind me, just as the next guard arrives around the corner. I wait, holding my breath, until the sound of his footsteps passes. Only then do I creep over to the bookcase.
Nervous about the noise of the tunnel opening, I wait a while longer until I am sure the guard is outside my chambers and away from this room. Breathing deep, I pull the hidden lever and watch the tunnel shudder open. I nearly turn back but resist, pressing my lips together.
I will return.
I take a deep breath and charge into the tunnel.
???
I have forgotten how humid the air is in Mossgarde, how close it presses in around you. As soon as I step outside, tears threaten to spill. It is dark, but I recognise every sound of the swamp and the taste of the air. I clap a hand over my mouth and swallow my sobs, pressing them down for another day. Instead, I take a long, shaky breath and focus on finding Aunt Meena.
I am unsure where the tunnel has deposited me and turn slowly on the spot, trying to recognise anything around me. The moon casts slivers of silver beams through the canopy, ineffective against the darkness. Even as my eyes begin to adjust to the gloom, I cannot see much. Cursing, I gingerly take a step off the wooden platform and begin walking forward, wary of the soggy ground giving way to deep bogs that would swallow me whole.
After a few minutes of frustratingly little progress, I come to a halt. Something is different. I freeze, wracking my brain to try and understand, when a tingle crawls up my spine. I shiver, thinking an insect has gotten into my dress, but it is not that. It…it is my ophid.
I draw myself up to my full height—my ophid stretches and uncoils like a cat waking from a long sleep. Hardly breathing, I reach out to my au’mana. It washes over me, warm and welcoming.
My magic has come back.
With shaking hands, I pull my au’mana forward. The purple glow, flickering like fire, trails from my spine over my shoulders and to my palms. I hold my arms in front and let it light my way.
With the help of my au’mana, I eventually stumble upon the edge of Mossgarde. A well-worn jetty dips into the swamp water where two crocas rest. Their protruding eyes swivel in my direction as I clamber onto the jetty, but they otherwise pay me no mind. I retract my magic, using the light of the lamps to guide me instead.
Further into town looms the yellow glow of the public house. I head in its direction, creeping quietly across the wooden bridges linking the platforms. I recall the last time I walked this way, on my way to Aunt Meena’s library to study—when I still thought I was going to Frostalm. Old anger bubbles up like hot tar in my stomach.
This time, when I pass the public house, I do so in the shadows. I hear the faint rumblings of laughter but nothing uproarious, thankfully. I zip from shadow to shadow before hurrying across the last bridge. I do not stop until I reach Aunt Meena’s library and slam the door closed behind me.
At once, a knife is pressed against my throat. There is no hand holding it, but it glows dark purple, hovering by itself in the air.
“Auntie!” I cry out as loud as I dare as the blade bites into my flesh.
“Shivani?” a familiar voice replies from the dark.
The knife clatters instantly to the ground, the glow evaporating. Strong arms scoop me up as my face is pressed into Aunt Meena’s soft shoulder. I inhale the scent of her. She does not let me go.
“I missed you,” I say, and she replies with a sob.
“Saints, I did not think I would see you again,” she says, pulling back to cup my face. Her cheeks are streaked with tears, and her hair is greyer than last I saw her. “Your father…that cur…”
“It does not matter now. I need your help.”
“Of course, child, of course.”
Aunt Meena ushers me over to a stool while she sits on a stack of thick books. The purple of her wooden leg peeks out from under her skirt as she crosses her ankles. I hurriedly fill her in on the castle, the prince, and the curse. Her frown deepens as I go on.
“It does not sound like any curse I have ever heard of,” she says, and I sigh heavily.
“I know.”
“And you are sure it is a curse?”
“Yes.” I pause. “What else could it be?”
Aunt Meena gives me the same look as when I answer an easy question wrong.
“And what about your au’mana?” she continues.
“It is blocked. It was blocked. They drugged me—” My voice catches, and I take a steadying breath. Aunt Meena grasps my hand, quiet fury under her tight features. “They drugged me at first, but then…I do not know. Something else blocked it. This is the first time I have been able to use magic since I was taken.”
As if to reassure myself, I reach out to my au’mana. It hums in response.
“Well, a witch lived there, did she not? Inara’s mother?”
“Inez, yes. Why?”
“Another witch would be the most likely candidate for blocking au’mana,” Aunt Meena says. “Regardless, you have escaped now. We can leave this wretched place behind and never look back.”
She stands up and begins rifling through her things, pulling out books and crockery and stuffing them into bags .
“Auntie, wait.”
“We need to leave before the sun is up, child. Before they realise you are gone,” she says, and then quieter, “We need to keep you safe.”
“Aunt Meena, I need to go back.”
Her hand freezes halfway to a jar of fermented reeds. It wavers, but she does not say anything.
“The people who live there…they have no one to help them. Even if we leave, there will be another woman sent to the chopping block next year. And the next. It will never end.”
Her hand drops, and I watch her shoulders sag, her back still to me.
“Someone needs to stop him.” There is renewed conviction in my voice.
Aunt Meena sighs so deeply, it feels like even her soul is tired. Eventually, she turns to me. I meet her eyes and do not look away.
“Iron will,” she says with a sad smile. She crosses the room to grasp me by the shoulders. “You stop him, Shivani, and you take everything down with him.”