43

Fear hammered at my heart as I left Cobie behind.

It felt like yet another betrayal that would sit on my conscience—to abandon her to the howling Wolves outside. But this chance might never come again.

The tower was quiet as a tomb after the rage of the crowd in the courtyard. I raced into the kitchen to clean and bandage my cuts, to wipe away all the blood on my hands.

It would not do to leave any trace of my presence behind.

Then I gathered up a basket of rags and soap and made for the stairs.

For once, the way was clear. The steps creaked beneath me as I climbed, trying to look bored, like I was going about my business. One story after another passed me by, until I came to her door.

I’d seen a few guards here and there, most looking as if they were on their way to the toilet or to bed after overindulging, and I’d expected to meet at least one outside Baba Yaga’s bedroom door. But there was no one. The hall was empty. And there was no one to stop me from pushing into her room and striding toward the radio.

I’d hardly allowed myself to contemplate what I’d do when I reached the top of the stairs. My hands shook, hovering over the dial.

I needed to hail the Beholder. I needed to reach out to my friends at Asgard and to Winchester. I needed to make contact with the resistance and plead for their aid.

My heart urged me to search first for Torden, and that decided it. But I didn’t know what frequency Asgard would use to communicate, if they were using radios at all.

I had to try. I switched the radio on and began slowly, slowly, to scroll.

Voices rolled past me like waves on the ocean. I closed my eyes and strained my ears, searching for the sounds of the Norsk words I wish I knew better.

I searched from one end of the spectrum to the other, and heard no trace of them.

I steeled myself and tried another tack. Fritz and Gretel had communicated via a channel not far from my godmother’s; I would search for them there. I turned the dial gradually, holding my breath.

But there was nothing.

I was entirely alone.

Hopelessness pooled in the pit of my stomach. Without knowing what channel England or Norge or the resistance used, I couldn’t reach them. The radio was useless to me as a tool to escape.

Slowly, I unbound my tangled hair, unbraided Torden’s ring from where it was hidden. I slid it on and off my finger for a few long moments, trying not to cry.

I dared remain only a few more minutes. Escape denied me, I chose comfort. I turned the dial one more time.

“Godmother Althea?” I asked the air. “Godmother, are you there?”

There was a sound like a snap and a creak, and I jumped. But Baba Yaga’s room was still quiet.

“Selah?”

I turned back to the radio, my blood surging. “Perrault?” I demanded, falling to my knees. I should have realized my own radio would still be tuned to the channel my godmother had chosen. “Perrault, is that you?”

“Oh, heaven,” Perrault blurted raggedly. “You’re alive.”

“Just barely.” My voice was grim. “Perrault, I don’t have long. Where are you?”

“We’re in Asgard.” His voice broke. “Selah, I feared you were dead.”

I couldn’t tell him I’d had to buy this time with blood.

“You made it?” I breathed.

“We repaired here after leaving Shvartsval’d. It seemed the safest place to be while we sorted out how to free you,” Perrault said. “We’re not in the fortress itself; Alfödr wouldn’t let us remain there. We’re at the outpost he’s building, a place called Flørli. He’s built a forge here, and a radio tower.”

The tower. Of course.

“Perrault, did you have any luck?” I asked. “Were you able to speak to Konge Alfödr and King Constantine about what happened?”

It felt shameful to beg. But Cobie was not fighting out beneath the full moon so I could cling to my pride.

I had sworn to myself that we would lose no more blood in this house. And tonight, I had failed at keeping that promise. I would not let it go unkept again.

Perrault cleared his throat. “I tried, Seneschal-elect. The English court has moved to London for the autumn; King Constantine did not look kindly on attempts to pull them into a war he wants no part of.”

The English king’s unwillingness to engage did not surprise me. So many months ago, Constantine and Bertilak and I had talked of Saint George and his dragon and the chasm between the old tale and the way they told it now. The Saint George of old had ridden abroad, searching for dragons to slay.

He had been a meddler. He had learned better.

The Saint George of Constantine’s England remained at home. He defended his own and did not trouble that which was not his. Of course he would not ride across a continent and invite trouble when none stood at his door.

“And Alfödr?” I asked.

“He’s not a trusting man.” Perrault’s voice wavered. “I’m trying, Selah.”

These were grand requests to tenuous contacts, in far-flung places—and most of them bore me little love.

My hope was a shallow little well.

“I know. I know. Thank you,” I said quickly. “How is Torden? Have you spoken to my godmother?”

Perrault took a long breath. “I’ve spoken to Sister Althea. She’ll be relieved to hear you’re not—that you’re well,” he corrected hastily. “She said nothing of your father, but I will ask for an account of his condition.”

“Yes, please. And my stepmother, and the baby. And—Torden?” I closed my eyes.

“He isn’t here,” Perrault said. I could picture my sometime protocol officer, his head cocked to one side, his dark eyes probing. “Alfödr won’t disclose where he’s gone, but I suspect he’s made his way to Iceland. I heard the king speak of it one night just after we arrived.” Hodr, Torden’s youngest brother, was being kept in Iceland. Torden was a devoted brother; it made sense he would go.

“Thank you for being there, Perrault,” I said into the quiet. “Thank you for being there when I needed to speak to someone.”

“I keep the radio with me all the time. Just in case.” There was no charm or pride in his voice. “I helped her force you from home. So it’s my job to bring you back.”

“Your job?” I laughed. So many people were more to blame than Perrault for my present circumstances.

“He’s reeling, Selah,” Perrault said quietly, and I knew he meant Lang. “I didn’t know what his plans were before, but he didn’t expect them to go so badly wrong.”

I touched my mouth, thinking of Lang’s kiss goodbye, remembering how long it had been since I’d felt his eyes on me. Then something snapped in me.

Lang was reeling? I was the one who’d been carried off by the tsarytsya’s Wolves. I was the one hiding out while Cobie paid for my loss with her own blood.

I shook myself. I had no time for pettiness.

“One more thing, Perrault,” I said. “Speak to Fritz. He’ll be using a frequency not far from this one. See if he’s spoken to Gretel on our behalf—or perhaps you’ll reach Gretel herself. Tell them—” I swallowed, thinking hard.

Of the stolen children in their ranks down below. Of the murdered men and women we’d seen on the Gray Road and here in Baba Yaga’s house.

Escape would mean safety for my friends and me, but for no one else I’d seen suffering.

It felt too small a hope. I wanted more.

“Tell them that the city will be in chaos on the night of the eclipse. It’s some major event in four weeks. If you work with them, and any resources Alfödr will give you, we might have a chance.”

A chance of what, I didn’t say. My wants were too large, too high, too great.

“I will search for them,” Perrault vowed.

He would try. And I would try. I would plead with every friend I had, grasp at every chance I saw.

Baba Yaga had achieved her position by taking. And Alessandra had done the same: she had taken our mortal enemy and made of her a tool.

And I had been watching them. I had learned from the best, the most cunning, the most vicious: I would mimic them, and befriend everyone they had wronged, and make of us a force to be reckoned with.

I bid Perrault farewell and returned the radio to its original frequency and switched it off. When I’d bound up my hair and the ring again, I left the tower, the din inside its walls rising once more.

The soldiers on the stairs stared at me in curiosity or blood-drunk lechery as I left the tsarytsya’s rooms. I dipped my head, looking meek as a lamb, giving no hint of what I’d been up to.

But I was living among Wolves. And I was learning how to behave like a Wolf myself.