We slink through corridors, staying in the shadows as best we can. I wish for common magic now, even though I’ve scorned it all my life. The ability to glamour one’s appearance, to become almost invisible in order to stay out of the way, would be invaluable now. Vanity is the only explanation for these powers not being bred into the royal bloodlines.

Through the open chamber doors, I glimpse overturned furniture, ransacked chests and wardrobes, and things haphazardly covered in white sheets. It seems Alder Tower was abandoned in a pandemonium. I wonder what Rothbart did when he took it for himself. It’s said the dead walk here, but it seems so empty now, a hollowed-out shell.

We find Gate and Plover in a much different situation than I was expecting. They’re in one of the cells of the dungeon, but the door is open and Gate has been freed of the web on his face. Plover no longer has the arrow through his wing. He’s wearing a sling made from Gate’s shirt and is lying on a straw pallet.

His face is gray and I rush to the door. “Is he alright?”

Gate looks grim. “I think so. The arrow lodged between the bones, so nothing was broken, but it was hard to remove, and he bled quite a bit. I think he’s in shock.”

“How did you get free?”

“Plover did it. The jailer was a pixie. He gave her a feather and asked her to take the thing off my face and set us free. When she did, we told her to flee, but there was a silver chain around her ankle, like the one on the goblin that attacked you. I broke it for her and convinced her to go back to the forest.”

“With your power?”

“Agate gave her a kiss,” says Plover faintly. “Pixies love mortals. She was only his guard under duress.”

It seems I’m not the only one to have been underestimated. Gate looks past me to Neev, who is bending worriedly over Plover. His brow furrows. “What’s she doing here?”

I don’t let my gaze waver, doing my utmost to keep my face impassive despite my churning emotions. “She’s going to help.”

“Surely you don’t trust her?”

“I trust her enough. Do you think I’m being foolish? Letting my heart lead me?”

He draws breath as I wait for his answer. “I don’t know. But if you believe her, I’ll follow you.”

“Good. Let’s go to the library.”

A look of befuddlement passes over Gate’s face. I suppress my irritation at his being the second person in three hours to show confusion over this.

We reach the library easily. A pair of double doors at the back of the room leads onto a balcony overlooking the lake. Dette and I used to study there to catch the breeze on hot afternoons. Neev and I shove the doors open now for the light. They rake aside a thick fall of dead leaves as they scrape open.

We place Plover on one of the lounges in the corner, and he lies there with his eyes closed.

The library at Lebed once held thousands of volumes. Not only books about magic but also collections on history, culture, mathematics, poetry and literature. Many of them have been taken or destroyed. Still, what looks like a few hundred are left, and I light a lamp and pore over a score of titles like Moderate-Level Necromancy, Conjuring vs Elemental Magic, and Toxic Tracheophytes. I find Sylphs and Fae: A History of the Air Folk lying face down beneath an ottoman, the book’s spine broken. Rothbart either didn’t see it or thought it was inconsequential enough to spare. After digging through what feels like hundreds of books, I find a volume called Irreversible Spells and Hexes.

I run my finger quickly down the table of contents, hoping not to see the spell Neev mentioned, but it’s there, between Maladies of the Mind and Mortification.

Mortal Troth.

A binding spell. Links two mortals eternally. Ill-advised, but sometimes used between relatives or lovers to achieve a bond stronger than death. If one dies, the other must accompany their shade to the Crossing. From there, they may part or remain together, but neither may return to the mortal world. The troth requires consent from both parties, and a deal-making forged with their blood. Once made, the bond is unbreakable, even if one of the parties later changes their mind.

There’s a diagram showing how to perform the spell, but there’s no counter-spell. I snap the book shut with disgust. The very idea of such a permanent, irreversible spell is madness, but of course, some human thought of it and made it a reality. Humans twist everything to their own devices and to their detriment.

“Find anything?” asks Gate.

“No. And we have to get out of here. We’re going to rescue Dette from that cat. And if Rothbart doesn’t catch us, I want you to get her and Plover out of here. Can you do that?”

“What are you going to do, Thedra?”

I meet his gaze levelly. “I’m going to kill him. Gate, listen. You’re a prick, but I like you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I’m touched.”

“Don’t make me regret this speech. I would’ve promoted you.”

“To what?”

I was going to make him the head of my guard, but I just smirk at him. Best not to feed his ego. “If you make it back to Lazul, let my father know I said to give you a high-ranking position.”