Minutes later, we stood in the courtyard as Roden burned. Some of the Queen’s soldiers started fires inside the living quarters, where tapestries and tables quickly kindled. Once the wood-shingle roof caught fire, the fortress truly burned, while the Queen’s wild guard and their obsidian swords dealt with any servants who tried to flee.
In one night, the Queen had scattered the royal family and sown seeds of war between Lacharra and Danavir. And I had unwittingly helped her.
Behold what you have wrought!
I closed my eyes as one of the great walls began to tilt. I’d seen the wall fall in my dream—I knew the smoke was billowing in great curls as it toppled, sensed the gaping hole that the flames hadn’t yet filled . . .
I heard the crash as the wall fell and opened my eyes. There was the hole, an entrance to a corridor that led to the back of the fortress.
I heard Tanwen’s voice: Don’t come back, Ryn, do you hear me? If you get the chance, run!
Run.
I’d stood so still that the Queen’s guards had released me while they watched Roden burn. I would die if I ran into the fire. But returning to my father’s castle would be its own sort of death.
The fire would be a relief.
Run!
One last glance at the Queen. And the Kingstone fragment that hung around her neck.
I leaped forward, using my momentum to wrench the Kingstone free. I was beyond her by the time I’d yanked it from her neck. I didn’t slow as I tucked my satchel close and dashed into the burning fortress.
The Queen shouted after me.
Let her follow me into the flame. Let her try and find the Kingstone in the burning rubble!
But the hallway was empty of flame—perhaps I wouldn’t die in Roden after all.
Run.
I ran on.
The air filling the corridor grew hotter and hotter as I ran, so I dropped to my hands and knees, pressing still farther into the fortress. I could hear the splinter of wood as it gave way in the darkness ahead of me.
If the fire was a monster, then the searing, smoke-clogged air that gusted around me was its breath. It grew thicker till I began to choke, even as I groped along the floor.
Then cool air rushed past me. It didn’t cut the smoke that roiled along the ceiling, but it was as welcome as water. I blindly swung a hand toward it, expecting to meet a wall.
Nothing. Perhaps an old chute or window.
A roar echoed down the stone walls, and orange light blossomed behind me: the fire had finally found the corridor. Flames streamed toward me as if driven by a bellows.
I threw myself out of the hole in the wall. Fire and gray sky spun around and around me as I tumbled away.
When I stopped, I lay at the bottom of the embankment, my satchel twisted around me, the Kingstone still in my fist. I looked up at Roden. The portion of the fortress I’d crawled through crumbled as I watched.
Let them think I’d died in it.
I heaved myself to my feet, untangling my limbs from the satchel.
Run . . . run!
Tripping and falling and standing again, I fled into the early morning mist beyond Roden’s walls. I stayed in the smoke that filled the forest as I ran. Ran from the Queen. Ran from the flames. Ran from the memory of my brothers being twisted into black swans.
But I couldn’t run fast enough to leave that behind. It was etched on the back of my eyes. Not even my tears could blur it.
Behold what you have wrought!
* * *
I’d outrun even the hint of smoke when I fell to my hands and knees one last time. I couldn’t even crawl. I pitched forward, dead leaves crumbling like old parchment beneath me. Exhausted beyond all measure, I fell asleep.
In my dreams, I saw the dark enchantment seize my brothers. I heard Owain’s shriek a thousand times. And through it all, I saw the Queen. Her voice reached inside me and turned whatever it touched to fear.
When I woke, the sun was a few hours from setting, and my cheeks were wet. I tried to wipe my cheeks but gasped at the pain in my hands. They were bruised and covered with cuts. I’d fallen almost as much as I’d run.
I slowly sat, grateful for the weak sunlight that spilled through the trees. The movement seemed to loosen something in my chest and I coughed, throat stinging from the smoke. Coughed and coughed till I vomited what little I had in my stomach.
Even in daylight, I heard my brothers’ screams as they turned to swans, the wind as it swept them away. And Tanwen! She was back at the castle, if she was even alive. I saw it all, again and again.
It was the Queen’s artwork, drawn just for me. I would never forget any part of it.
I pushed myself to my feet, gripping the nearest tree for support. Then I noticed the Kingstone, still clutched in my hand. It wasn’t much to look at: a bit of stone with only a carved feather visible on it.
But it was enough.
Enough to remind myself of that one small victory against the Queen. Enough to tell myself that maybe I’d saved my brothers after all.
Enough to keep going.
I tied knot after knot in the fine chain I’d broken when I tore the necklace from the Queen. Then I hung the Kingstone around my neck and tucked it so that it hung beneath my bodice.
A breeze rattled the branches, and I held my hand out to it. It tickled my bruised palm and then caught up dead leaves as it flowed through the forest.
The wind had taken my brothers from me. I’d follow it until I found them.
I stumbled after the wind.