“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.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’m not sure how long we flew. Time seemed to change in the far reaches of the sky. Slow down, speed up—I wasn’t sure. But there was a beautiful freedom to soaring through the air. The magic was stronger up here, crackling around us like lightning. I could feel it mingling with the magic inside me; I could feel it dancing on my skin. It wasn’t like the magic back home, and it wasn’t like the magic closer to the surface of the Mists, either. It was magic like starlight, like rainstorms, like wind.
r /> None of us spoke. We couldn’t have heard each other even if we had, with the wind howling past our ears. Isolfr snuggled close to me, his chin on my shoulder, and I leaned into him and felt safe with his arms wrapped around my waist.
No one followed us.
Eventually, the night gave way to morning, the sky lightening and lightening until it was no longer dark green-gray but pale ivory. For the first time since I’d come to the Mists, a cloud moved into view, a thin wisp of a thing, almost invisible against the pale sky. My breath caught in my throat.
“We’re here,” Isolfr said, his mouth close to my ear. His voice blended with the wind’s. “We’ve passed the border. We’re in Jandanvar.”
My chest tightened. Jandanvar. The place where my world and the Mists bled together. We had gotten free of the Garrowglass dungeon but I knew we weren’t safe. Not yet. The moon horse was flying us into a danger so great I couldn’t imagine it.
I closed my eyes against the brightening sky and saw, just for a second, my little cottage in Kjora, Mama and Papa waving at me from the garden.
In my little straw bed in that house I’d dreamed of adventures. Those dreams hadn’t matched with reality. In my mind, adventures were like being on the back of the moon horse, a boy like Isolfr holding me close—but without all the other terrible things, the terror of being caught and tortured and killed by Lord Foxfollow, the night spent in the dungeon, the confusion as we sailed toward unknown lands. And even this moment, the wind and the magic swirling around me, was tainted by the cold stab of fear at what I would have to face when we landed.
The moon horse descended. We spun lazily toward the ground, drifting like an autumn leaf. The frozen grassland had given way to a rocky, dark beach, waves crashing along the shore. I looked for the Penelope II, but the beach was empty.
“Where are we going?” I shouted at Trystan.
“The shore,” he shouted back. “To wait. Senra doesn’t want to fly over the sea with us on her back.”
As if she understood us, the moon horse threw back her head and whinnied.
“See?” Trystan said.