Glass shatters, crashing in one of the rooms. “Get a fire wielder—now!” I command to whoever is listening, rushing up the stairs. Smoke billows into the foyer, making it almost impossible to see. Covering my nose and mouth with the crook of my arm, the panic really sets in when I realize the magnitude of the situation. The fire only grows with my worry, and soot clings to the walls, almost like it’s mocking me.
The raging smoke makes my eyes water instantly, but with one step forward, the flames branch out, as if they’ve been commanded to attack if I—or anyone—was to intervene.
Screams get carried by the flames, reaching my ears in a plea. “Elizabeth,” I whisper on a cough. But it’s too late. With no wielder in sight, Remy runs down the stairs, probably to find out what’s taking so long. But it’s no use. The flames climb the walls, engulfing the artwork and disintegrating the paint.
Shuffling footsteps and audible gasps threaten to pull my attention, but it doesn’t work. My eyes are glued as I watch the life I’ve built, the one I’ve dreamt of, go up in flames. There’s nothing I can do. I fall to my knees, the scream from before slowly fading until all that’s left is the sound of falling beams and crumbling walls.
How could this happen? How could someone set fire to not only the castle, but sentence the queen and princess to an early grave?
The fire wielder finally arrives, and almost instantly, he’s able to tame the flames. With a snap of my fingers, the glass shatters on the floor-to-ceiling windows to my right, and I command the wind to pull the smoke outside.
Standing on shaky legs, I take a deep breath of the brisk night air, letting it wash over me as it carries the remnants of the embers through the broken panes. Zeke—the fire wielder—takes hesitant steps down the hall. The flames give some pushback butultimately succumb to his control as he contains it to one room then puts it out entirely.
Debris crunches beneath my boots as I walk to the end of the hall. I bypass the other rooms, uncaring of their integrity as I reach the last room on the left. Stepping over the threshold, I look around at the once pink room that’s now covered in despair and misery. I take in the room with grave detail, imagining the dresser that used to sit on the wall to my left, the pictures Elizabeth had framed, now nothing but dust in the air. The curtains are fried, only fringe hanging from the rod, and just beneath the window…a pile of ash where Kalliope’s crib once stood.
Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder, the weight barely recognizable on top of the magnitude of the situation staring back at me. “We will find out who did this.” I don’t recognize the voice, but I can’t find it in me to look either. I shrug off their embrace and take another step forward. Only, my foot lands on something soft, and the difference has my attention pulling to the ground. The dragon stuffed animal someone sent to Kalliope earlier in the day. Somehow, it survived the fire.
My eyes track up to a pile of ash that looks slightly larger than all the rest, where the rocking chair used to be. My head cocks to the side in wonder, my somber feeling turning over to curiosity. “No need. I believe I know exactly who is responsible.” I turn, facing the crowd that’s accumulated by the doorway, letting devastation and sadness bleed over my features. “Clear the wing. I would like to be alone.” Tears stream down the strangers’ somber faces, everyone sniffling or choking out sobs. I wait a few moments, hand covering my face as my eyes turn down, acting as though I’m taking in the room for what it is. I begin my inspection slowly, in case there’s a straggler hiding in the shadows. I peek in the closet, rummage through the trashed furniture, and finally poke my head out from the door frame andwatch as the last person disappears down the stairs.
Once I’m sure there isn’t a chance of prying eyes, I head straight for the large pile of ash. Dropping to my knees, I take one last look over my shoulder before using my forearm to wipe away the ash, swiping back and forth until the floorboards are revealed.
Just as I thought.
Staring at me is the board I insisted creaked—the one I was certain needed to be repaired. Elizabeth always told me she never noticed anything, and that if I did, I should enjoy it because it added character to this castle built on perfection. It lays off center, only by a hair. To anyone else, it would look like just another piece disheveled from the mayhem.
I peel the board back, but when I do, it’s not the only one that comes up. A square of the floor rises, and it’s then I know my suspicion to be true.
Oh, Elizabeth, you can’t escape that easily.
Lost in thought, I don’t hear the door open or even know anyone is in here until someone clears their throat behind me. Startled, I suck the air from their lungs, and they hit the floor with a bang. Standing up, I whip around and immediately return the air to his lungs. “Remy, what have I told you about sneaking up on me?” He coughs, sputtering, trying to regain his composure, but the entire time he just looks wretched.
Bracing himself on the arm of the chair, he hauls himself up, and I cross my arms over my chest, growing impatient.
“My apologies,” he manages to squeak out. “I was just coming to grab you to look at the improvements.”
That piques my interest. “Does this have to do with the guest of honor?”
He nods nervously. I raise an eyebrow, eyeing him curiously. “Why does it seem like it isn’t good news?”
“I would rather you come and see for yourself.” His eyesbounce around the room nervously.
My jaw ticks once. Twice. “You better not be wasting my time.” Not waiting for him, I exit the office and go down the white hallway. He scurries behind me as I swiftly move down to the basement. My steps don’t falter until I reach the door next to the lab. Scanning my finger, I grab the handle and look down at Remy. “I haven’t had the most pleasant few days. So tell me, will I be disappointed when I walk through this door?”
“No, sir,” he says definitively.
“For your sake, I hope you’re right.” Pulling the door open, the chill of the room immediately hits me. Keeping the room at a lower temperature is a crucial part in the transition process, which was something else we learned in the beginning stages.
Harrison lays on the silver table in the center of the room, hooked up to machines with charts and documents laying around on the surrounding counters. His wrists and ankles are still bound, which shouldn’t be the case if I was to not be disappointed. However, before I can berate the little rat behind me, Harrison lifts his head up.
“Nice of you to join us,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“Nice to see you haven’t changed much,” I retort, anger quickly approaching. Remy quickly steps up to the table.
“I know it doesn’t look like much, but—”
I cut him off. “It doesn’t look like much of anything.” He wears a look of defeat but still continues on to show me whatever it is that is so important. Remy reaches for Harrison’s pant leg, and immediately, he thrashes, kicking Remy out of the way, clearly not wanting me to see what’s underneath.
Suddenly, my interest piques all over again. “Sedate him,” I demand.
