I sucked in a long draft of cold, damp air. Someone was shouting my name.
“Ananna?” I muttered. “Captain Nadir?”
“Hanna! Look at me!”
The world was dark. After the brightness of the Flames of Natuze, I couldn’t make out anything but heavy, blurred shadows. I was still reeling from my conversation with Ananna. I had spoken to her. And she hadn’t looked down on me or told me I wasn’t worthy of her name. In fact, she gave me advice.
“Hanna!”
With a jolt, I recognized Isolfr’s voice, and I turned my head toward him. He was kneeling beside his cell door, reaching through the bars.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, but he was too far away to hear.
“Hanna?” He pressed his face against the bars and squinted at me. “Oh, thank the ancestors, her eyes are open!”
“Good,” came a voice a few cells away. Trystan.
I pushed myself up onto my arm. The dungeon spun around. The magic I’d used to activate the Flames of Natuze was still lingering inside my veins, churning with power.
“Did you speak with them?” Isolfr asked. “What did they say?”
It took me a moment to remember that Isolfr was not asking about Ananna and Naji, but about Frida and Kolur. I sat up and rubbed my hands over my face. I felt as if I’d been asleep for a long time. Days, weeks, years. But the guard’s chair was still empty, and the extinguished torches hadn’t been relit. The light in my cell was dim and hazy—the torch I’d used to cast the spell had burned and solidified into black stone.
“No,” I said.
“No?” Isolfr frowned. “But you were in the flames for so long! The spell worked. I saw it.”
“It didn’t take me to Kolur and Frida.” I looked at him through the bars. His eyes were on me, heavy with concern. His expression made my bloodstream spark in a way that had nothing to do with magic. “I spoke with Ananna though. Ananna of the Nadir.”
“Who?” said Trystan, voice rebounding off the dripping stone walls.
“Will she help us?” Isolfr asked.
I shook my head. Isolfr slumped back, looking defeated, but I didn’t share his pessimism. She’d told me that I just needed to be like her. I just needed to live up to my name.
Easier said than done.
“We can get ourselves out,” I said. “And then run across the border into Jandanvar. Once we’re there, Kolur and Frida can collect us, right?” I tilted my head to the left, where I assumed Trystan was imprisoned. “Do you know how far it is?”
“A day’s walk,” Trystan said.
“We’ll never make it,” Isolfr said.
“Through the woods,” Trystan added. “We’d have cover of foliage, if the two of you know how to handle such things.”
“We don’t have that much time, either,” I said. “Isolfr, you could fly us.”
“No,” said Trystan sharply. “Lord Foxfollow would expect that. He’ll have spells cast to feel if Isolfr transforms into the north wind—that effect would ripple all over the Garrowglass estate. No. Absolutely not.”
I pressed my face against the cell bars. They were cold and damp, like everything else in this place. For the first time I felt as if these lands deserved the name the Mists.
A hopeless silence settled around the dungeon.
“Or . . . ,” Trystan said. “Or—I might know a way. To get us there quickly.”
Isolfr shifted in the shadows. “What is it?” He hadn’t protested Trystan’s warnings about the threat of him turning into the north wind, and I didn’t blame him. Not when we were in the world where Foxfollow gained his strength.
“Lord Gallowglass keeps moon horses. I’ve got a touch with the creatures, and they don’t harbor loyalties to their owner. I might be able to convince one to fly us into Jandanvar.”
“A moon horse?” The name sounded familiar, and at first I couldn’t place it—but then I remembered a flash of silver in the stable back at the inn in Amkal City.
“The winged horses of Argent Island. Lord Gallowglass collects them, the poor things. They’re always happy to rebel when they can.”
“You’re both ignoring the obvious,” Isolfr said. “Even with the moon horses, we still have to get ourselves out of the dungeon. Without magic. You’re skipping over the hardest part.”
“Ananna said we should trick the guards,” I told him. “She said that if guards are people, then they can be tricked.” I paused, remembering her smile as she’d spoken to me, indulgent like Mama’s when I was first learning how to tie ropes on board Papa’s boat. “And that the guards here are people made of magic, so we can know them well.”
Trystan snorted in his cage. “Not the highest kind of magic,” he said. “Not if they’re just guards.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Isolfr said. “It doesn’t matter what sort of magic they are. We won’t be able to trick them—”
A door clanged open at the top of the stairs.
Isolfr went pale and silent and dropped away from his bars. I could just see him in the shadows, two eyes sometimes glinting with white light.
I stayed where I was, despite the pounding in my heart. I needed to watch the guards. I needed to study them, figure out their weaknesses. I needed to be like Ananna.
Footsteps, the jangle of keys. It was frightening how easily those sounds became routine. The guards’ distorted silhouettes danced across the walls, announcing their entrance; a few seconds later, the guards themselves appeared. They were different from the men the other day. Two of them again, one balancing three trays of food on his arms.
“Morning, morning!” the free-handed guard shouted. “Wake up. Another day in the dungeon. Lord Foxfollow will be arriving later this afternoon, and Lord Gallowglass wants you well-rested.”
A tray of gray porridge slid through my cell door. It was lumpy and unappealing, but I lost my appetite, small as it was, at the mention of Lord Foxfollow’s name.
He would be here today.
I did not have time to formulate a clever plan, like one Ananna would have invented.
I pulled my tray over and stared down at the congealing, unappetizing porridge, fighting back tears. The guard finished distributing breakfast and sat down in the guard’s chair. The other one leaned up against the wall, fingering the hilt of his sword. They looked bored.
I took a raggedy breath. All wasn’t lost yet—Foxfollow would be here this afternoon, and the guards had made it clear it was morning. I still had time. And so I studied them, looking for clues, for weak points, for anything.
I noticed that they both had keys glinting at their sides, but I didn’t know what to do with that observation. I knew I couldn’t use magic to draw the keys to myself; the dungeon would stop me before I retrieved them. Same with casting a spell on the guards, something to make them pliable and weak.
Ananna was right. I couldn’t use magic. I’d have to use my wits.
I stirred my porridge around, trying to decide what to do. If I had something I could use as a weapon, I could lure the guards into my cell, then grab the keys, free the others, and run. But I needed a weapon.
Nothing on the tray would work. Not that I would have expected it to. The guards weren’t that stupid.
I pretended to eat, spooning the porridge up to my mouth, one eye on the guards. They were too wrapped up in their conversation, their voices a dull murmur, to pay me any mind. One of them chuckled.
I set my spoon down, glanced around my cell.
And then I saw it.
The torch.
The torch, transformed by the Flames of Natuze into shiny black stone. I had a weapon in my cell.
I scuttled backward a few finger widths at a time, dragging the tray with me. One of the guards glanced over at my cell but didn’t say anything, and a heartbeat later he turned back to the other guard. They both laughed.
My spine hit up against the wall. I was wrapped in the dungeon’s dark shadows, and the light of those few torches burned a world away. I ate another bite of porridge, just in case. The guards didn’t look at me. I crawled over to the torch.
It lay on the floor, blending into the dungeon’s dark stone. I turned my back to the guards so I could pick it up, shielding my actions with my body. The transformed torch was heavier than the original had been. The stone was smooth and cool, as if it had been polished like a gem. I tried to imagine using it, slamming the torch down on the back of the guard’s head, but I couldn’t. My mind went blank at the thought.
But I knew I had to try.
Trembling, I folded the torch up in the skirts of my dress. Then I crawled back over to my bowl of porridge and ate another couple of bites. I might as well have been eating sand. The porridge felt like sand in my stomach, too, heavy and sludgy and weighing me down.
The guards weren’t look at me.
I was dizzy with fear.
I hurled my spoon against the floor so it made a great clatter, and then I screamed.
I screamed, and I grabbed at my side and slumped over, howling and shrieking. I didn’t dare look at the guards directly, but I heard the jangle of their keys.
“What the hell’s wrong with you, girl?” one of them asked.
“I don’t know!” I wailed. “It just started hurting!” I squeezed my eyes shut.
Footsteps on the stone. I rolled over the floor, digging my hands into my side. “For the love of the ancestors, help me!” I lifted my head, hair already stringy with sweat—it came from fear, not pain, but the guards wouldn’t know that.
They stood in front of my cell door gaping at me. A smear of silver flashed behind them. Isolfr.
“Was it poisoned?” I shrieked.
“Was what poisoned?” asked one of the guards.
“The porridge!” I rolled over onto my back. “You tricked me! What about the others!”
“The others are fine,” the guard said. “Stop screaming.”
“She looks pretty bad,” the other said. “You know it wouldn’t do to have her die before his lordship arrives.”
I screamed again, louder this time.
The first guard didn’t answer.
“I’m going in,” the second said. “What’s she going to do? She can’t use magic down here.”
“She can’t use some magic,” the first said. “Lord Gallowglass has never been exactly thorough—”
“You’re being a coward. It’s just a girl.”
I moaned and shrieked and clutched at my side. The keys jangled in the lock and my heart raced and sweat prickled through my clothes. I twisted around on the floor so I could draw my other hand across my body and easily grab hold of the torch.
“Now, tell me what’s the matter.” The guard’s footsteps stopped. I rolled over, gazed up at him. My vision was hazy. He crouched down, put a hand on my forehead. “Elex, she’s soaked in sweat. Go fetch the physician to tend to her. You know we can’t bring them dead.”
I screamed again, rolled over onto my side. The first guard hung back in the doorway, frowning. If he would leave, I’d only have to attack one—
The kind one. The one who’d come in to check on me. I reminded myself he only did it because he couldn’t bring me dead to Lord Foxfollow.
“Fine,” the first said.
“You don’t want Foxfollow angry with you,” the second said.
“I said I would go.” He whirled around and stomped out of the dungeon.
“We’ll see what’s wrong,” the guard said in a low, comforting voice. “Don’t you worry.”
His kindness was clanging and harsh. I hated myself, and I hated the reason behind that kindness. I knew, too, that I couldn’t waste any more time. The echoes of the first guard’s footsteps had faded. I didn’t know how long he’d be gone.
I tightened my fingers around the torch.
I took one last look at the guard, measuring how far I needed to swing to hit the back of his head.
And then I attacked.
It happened so fast that it felt like a dream. I swung the torch out and for a moment it was whistling through the air and then it stopped, and a sickening jolt ran up my arms. There was a crack like ice breaking. The guard didn’t even cry out, just slumped over on top of me.
Revulsion racked through my body. I threw the torch away in disgust, and it rolled out of my open cell and over to Isolfr, who was staring at me through the bars.
“What are you doing?” he hissed.
I wriggled out from under the guard’s weight. Blood trickled down his neck but I couldn’t think about that. Instead, I unhooked the keys from his belt and ran out of my cell and over to Isolfr’s. My hands were shaking. I listened for footsteps on the stairs and kept thinking that I heard them. But no one appeared.
I jammed the key into the lock and turned. The door popped open. Isolfr looked stunned. His Pjetur mask had dropped away completely, and he glowed in the darkness like the moon.
“Don’t forget me!” Trystan called out.
“Shhh!” I jogged over to his cell. It was at the far end of the dungeon and larger than mine, with stone seats and a straw-covered cot. I unlocked the door and yanked it open, then whirled around, trying to decide how to get out of the dungeon. Isolfr had stepped out of his cell. He looked around, dazed, as if he couldn’t believe he’d found his freedom.
His toe knocked against the torch. It clattered across the stone. I dove forward and grabbed it before it could roll into my cell. The guard stirred, groaning, and fear spiked through my heart. I turned to Trystan.
“How do we get out of here?” I said. “Up the stairs?” I imagined us meeting a troop of armed guards and that being the end of our escape.
“No!” Trystan gestured for Isolfr and me to join him by his cell. “Most of the ancient lords installed underground entrances to the dungeons—” He felt along the wall, his fingers skimming over the stone. Isolfr drifted over beside me. Flashes of Pjetur flickered across his features.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
I smiled.
“Found it!” Trystan said in a loud whisper. He banged a fist against one of the stones. Nothing happened. Isolfr and I exchanged glances.
The guard groaned again. I whirled around and slammed the cell door shut and turned the key in the lock.
A rough, raspy scraping filled the dungeon. I turned back to Trystan. Cracks had appeared in the stone, threading like bright veins. Trystan cursed and banged his fist against the wall.
The wall crumbled.
“There we are,” he said. “Just like at Llambric Manor. Come along then. This should take us up to the gardens. Once we’re outside, I can get us to the moon horse stable. Hurry!”
I glanced at Isolfr to make sure he was still all right. He looked small and pale and frightened. Not cowardly, though. Fear was necessary here. It was what would keep us alive.
I understood that now.
I grabbed his hand and squeezed. He lifted his face to me. For a half second I thought of our kiss, the dry cool roughness of his lips against mine.
This was not a time to think about kissing.
Trystan disappeared through the hidden door. I tugged on Isolfr’s hand and pulled him forward, and we followed Trystan into the dark tunnel. There was enough light from the flames of the dungeon to illuminate Trystan’s form as he glided along the path—and then that light was gone. Winked out.
The darkness flooded over me. I felt as if I was drowning. The only thing anchoring me to the world was the solidity of Isolfr’s hand in mine.
“Keep moving!” Trystan said. “There’s light up ahead. You only have one path. But I had to tell the wall to rearrange the door—otherwise, this would be the first place they’d look.” His voice faded in and out. I squeezed Isolfr’s hand tighter.
“I’m not going to leave you,” Isolfr said softly.
“I know,” I said.
We moved forward. The tunnel was narrow and restricting, as if the house itself was on Lord Foxfollow’s side and wanted to squeeze the life out of my lungs. I took deep, shuddery breaths. It was disorienting in the darkness, and I stuck out my free hand—I didn’t dare let go of Isolfr—to touch the wall and help steady myself. It was cold and covered in a fuzzy growth like moss that undulated beneath my fingers. I yelped and snatched my hand away.
“Are you all right back there?” Trystan said.
“I think so. I just touched something—”
“The magic makes things grow down here.” Trystan sounded far away, and then he sounded right behind me. “Keep walking. We’ll be there soon.”
After a while, the path tilted upward enough that my breath quickened. Isolfr and I were still holding hands. I wasn’t sure, after this, if I could ever let him go.
Something brushed across my shoulder. I jumped, but Isolfr said, “Shh, it’s just me.”
I sighed with relief.
“I just wanted to tell you,” he said, “that I can hear you breathing.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No, no! It’s good. It makes me feel—safe.”
I glanced toward the sound of his voice. The darkness was so thick I couldn’t see anything but two twin flashes, quick as lightning. His eyes.
“I’m glad,” I said.
In the silence that followed, I imagined him smiling.
I’m not sure how long we walked. It was a long time, certainly, but it was uninterrupted by guards or danger. Of course, that didn’t mean I wasn’t terrified. In that darkness we were vulnerable. In that house, that dungeon, we were vulnerable. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be safe again.
And then light appeared.
It was thin and weak, like moonlight back home. It glazed the floor and the walls and Isolfr, draining them of all color. I laughed at the sight of it, laughed at the idea of light. Trystan, only a few paces ahead of us, turned to me and said, “Quiet! We’re approaching the exit soon. They may be waiting for us.”
My laughter vanished. I’d picked up the torch and tucked it into my belt, but I wasn’t sure I could use it again.
The light brightened enough to form long, eerie shadows. Trystan stopped, both hands stretched horizontally across the tunnel to stop us. For the first time, I let go of Isolfr’s hand. In case I needed to fight.
I didn’t want to think about fighting.
“I don’t hear anyone,” Trystan whispered.
Up ahead, the path dead-ended into a tangle of briar branches, brown and thorny. Trystan crept forward, ear tilted toward the branches. I clutched the torch and trembled.
Trystan pushed the branches aside. Pale light poured in. He peered outside. My throat seized up.
“It’s clear,” he said. “We’re in the woods. Hurry through.” He pulled at the branches, clearing a hole, and crawled through. Isolfr glanced over at me.
“I’ll go first,” he whispered.
I nodded. I could see in his expression that he was scared. But he still waded into the branches without hesitation. I pushed in after him. The branches slashed at my face, leaving sharp stinging marks on my skin. For a moment I was completely entangled in them, and I was afraid that I was stuck, that we’d all gotten stuck.
But then a hand, slim and pale, reached down through the branches and found mine.
“I’ve got you,” Isolfr said, and with a burst of strength, he pulled me through, out into the damp Mists night.
We stood in the middle of a dense, thickly layered wood. The brambles crawled around the trees and the leaves rustled overhead. It was brighter than I expected, as if we were standing in an open field under full moonlight—in truth, it was brighter even than that. And then I realized the light came from the trees. It shone just underneath their surfaces, crawling up their trunks and branches in swirls and eddies.
“Where are we?” I asked Trystan.
“Asha Forest,” he said. “Still on Garrowglass property. The moon horses’ stable is not far from here. Climb up into one of the trees to hide. I’ll find you.”
“What!” said Isolfr. “No. We can’t split up—”
“It’s the easiest way,” Trystan shot back. “I can speak with one of the moon horses more easily if I’m alone, and I can move faster. Hide in the trees. I’ll fly overhead to pick you up.”
I wanted to protest too. It was a terrible idea for him to run off like that, to leave us in an unfamiliar and magic-enchanted wood in the Mists. But I didn’t have a chance to say anything. Trystan had already vanished into the darkness.
“I can’t believe he did that,” Isolfr said.
“He’s a nobleman,” I said, knowing even as I spoke I was being unfair. “He’s used to getting his own way.”
Isolfr stared after the place where Trystan had disappeared. I tucked the torch into my belt again and picked my way through the brambles to the nearest tree. The trunk was thick, much bigger around than I was, but its branches grew low and sprawling.
“We can climb this one,” I said.
Isolfr glanced over his shoulder at me. “You don’t think he betrayed us?”
Of course I’d thought that. “He’s your friend,” I said. “You told me you trusted him. That’s all I need to know.”
Isolfr hesitated. “I do trust him,” he said.
“He didn’t betray us then.” I beckoned for him to join me. “Come on, let’s get up here before Garrowglass’s men come along.”
“His men haven’t been in these woods for a long time.” Isolfr moved through the brambles with grace, hardly making sound. I grabbed hold of the tree’s lowest branch and heaved myself up.
“You sure about that?”
“Quite. The people of the Mists always leave traces behind. And the traces here are all ancient.”
“I haven’t noticed that. The traces, I mean.” I crawled up to the next branch, which was wide enough for me to turn around and peer over the side at him. He had one hand on the tree trunk and was squinting up at me. In the tree’s light his skin was transparent and gauzy. He didn’t look human at all.
“I’ve trained in it. Is this hard to do? I’ve never climbed a tree before.”
I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “No, it’s not that hard. This is a good climbing tree.”
Isolfr frowned and tilted his head, studying the low-hanging branch. “I’ve never had to climb something before. Not even on the Penelope II—Kolur never asked me to.”
“You usually just fly?”
“Not fly. Change form. Become the wind.” He sighed. “But Trystan was right; I can’t risk doing that here. Not just because of Foxfollow. In these woods, with this old magic—” He shook his head. “I’m not sure what would happen.”
“Well, it’s not so bad, climbing.” I braced myself against the tree’s trunk. “Just pull yourself up one branch at a time. Make sure you have your balance before you go any higher.”
Isolfr screwed up his face in concentration. I watched him with a warm flush of affection, charmed by the idea that he’d never had to properly climb something before.
He pulled himself up to the first branch after a couple of hesitations and false starts, then turned to me, skin blazing in the light.
“Not so bad, huh?” I said.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that.”
I smothered a laugh. “Well, we need to get higher. Into the leaves at least.” I grabbed the next branch and shimmied my way up. I’d had practice climbing trees and mastheads both, and I could have gotten to the top of that tree in no time at all. But I didn’t. I waited for Isolfr, never letting him drop more than one branch behind. When we finally made it to the tree’s canopy, I grabbed Isolfr’s hand the way he had grabbed mine in the briar tangle and pulled him up beside me.
The highest branches were sturdier than I expected, hanging with wide, flat leaves. We carved out a place where we could sit, leaves falling around us like curtains, keeping us hidden. A small patch of sky shone through so I could keep watch.
“Which way are the stables?” I asked.
“Everything is that way.” Isolfr pointed over my shoulder. “We’re on the edge of the Garrowglass estate. That direction,” and he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, “is the way to Jandanvar.”
I shivered. Lord Foxfollow must have been there when he received word that we’d been captured. It was obvious now that Frida and Kolur hadn’t managed to defeat him in the time that we’d been in the Mists. I prayed to the ancestors that it was because they hadn’t tried yet, and not because they had, and failed.
“Watch for Trystan,” I said, drawing my knees up to my chest. “We don’t want him to fly overhead and miss us.”
Isolfr pushed himself closer to me on the branch. After sleeping in the dungeon and casting the Flames of Natuze and trekking through those dark, inclined tunnels, my entire body ached with tension and exhaustion. But Isolfr’s proximity, the soft paleness of skin, and the shivering north-wind breeze of touch, relaxed me. After a moment’s pause, I turned myself around so I could lay my head on his shoulder. He didn’t move, didn’t push me away—in fact, a few heartbeats later, he lay his hand over mine, his fingers curling around my fingers. I lifted my gaze up to the gap in the leaves, watching for Trystan. The sky was the color of old stone.
“I’m glad you were on Kolur’s ship,” Isolfr said suddenly. “I’m glad I was able to meet you.”
The leaves rustled, leaving streaks of pale light in their wake.
“I’m glad I was able to meet you too.” I felt breathless. There was a tickle at my ear—Isolfr, readjusting himself, pulling me closer. His body was a comfortable solidity beneath me. Cold, but not in an unpleasant way. Not at all.
A shadow appeared in the sky.
Any sense of calm vanished. I tensed. Isolfr tightened his grip on my hand.
There was a sound, a soft whomp whomp whomp, like the beating of wings.
“Is that him?” I whispered. “Trystan?”
“I’m not sure.”
Whoever it was hadn’t passed by the gap in the leaves. I pulled myself away from Isolfr even though it was the last thing I wanted to do. I peeked my head out into the open. A silhouette dove across the sky. A horse, a pair of wings, a man.
The horse swooped toward me. Its hair shimmered like starlight and its mane streaked out behind it like the tail of a comet. In the light of the trees I could see that the rider was Trystan.
I sighed with relief.
“It’s him,” I said, bending down to Isolfr.
The beating wings grew louder. I held out my hand to help Isolfr stand up without losing his balance. He smiled at me. The trees formed a veil around us, and without thinking I leaned forward and brushed my lips against his. Immediately, my cheeks flushed hot the way they had the first time.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“You never need to apologize for that,” Isolfr whispered.
Now it was my turn to smile.
The leaves rippled. A cold wind stirred up around us. I stuck my head back out into the open, and Isolfr did the same, peering out cautiously. The moon horse hovered a few paces away, wings pumping. The wings were a dark inky black, and I could see them in silhouette against the sky, as wide as the sails on the ships that went north.
“The guards are assembling,” Trystan said. “We need to go now.”
I nodded. Trystan held out one hand and I took it and he pulled me onto the back of the moon horse, who gave a whinny of irritation but otherwise did not protest. Then Trystan did the same with Isolfr.
“Hold on,” Trystan said, and I immediately gripped the sides of his coat. Isolfr wrapped his arms around my waist, squeezing tight. His breath was a cold tickle on my shoulder.
The moon horse swooped up, its wings creating a blasting wind that cooled my hot skin, a wind that was infused with strange and beautiful magic.
We flew up into the sky, as high as the clouds, and fled the lands of Lord Garrowglass.