Charlotte nearly tripped over her own feet. A shock of pure, unadulterated elation shot through her veins, momentarily warming her blood. She stared at the back of his head.
“My vials?” she breathed. “You found my jewelry box? The hidden compartment?”
“It wasn’tthathard to find,” he muttered, turning a sharp corner toward the stairs that led up to the servants’ quarters.
“Clever boy,” she praised, her grip on his arm tightening. “I knew you had it in you. I knew you weren’t completely lost to her spell.”
“Hush,” he commanded, extinguishing the torch as they reached the bottom of the stairwell.
Absolute darkness swallowed all. Charlotte’s heart leaped into her throat, but Edmund’s hand clamped around hers, his grip gentle yet strong.
“Not a sound, Mother,” he whispered. “Do you understand? We only have this one chance.”
She nodded, though he couldn’t see her.
He dragged her up the stairs. Her muscles trembled, protesting even this small effort after so long of disuse. Every step was a battle, but the promise of freedom—and the knowledge that Mariana was writhing on the floor somewhere, foaming at the mouth—gave her strength.
They burst into the ground-level corridor. It was empty. Edmund didn’t hesitate. He pulled her past the kitchens, down a narrow hall used only by scullery maids, and threw open the heavy oak door that led to the rear grounds.
Fresh air washed over her—crisp and clean.
Charlotte inhaled it greedily, her head spinning. She was outside.
And it was cold.
The wind cut through the thin, filthy rags of her gown, sinking its teeth into her skin. She shivered violently, wrapping her arms around her emaciated frame. “You could have brought me a cloak,” she complained, her teeth chattering. “I am freezing, Edmund.”
“There was no time,” he hissed, scanning the darkness of the grounds. “Move.” He punctuated the word by tugging on her hand, dragging her onward.
He didn’t lead her toward the stables. He didn’t lead her toward the main gates. Instead, he pulled her to the left, hugging the shadows of the palace wall, moving toward the old fortifications.
“Where are we going?” she demanded, stumbling over a tree root. “The stables are that way! We need horses if we are to reach the coast.”
“We can’t use the gates,” Edmund whispered furiously, hauling her along. “We would be spotted before we made it ten yards. We have to go out the back.”
“Out the back where?” Charlotte asked, unable to keep a wild laugh from her words. Her son did not even know the layout of their own palace. There was no back gate.
Only a wall.
He did not answer. He merely shouldered open the door of the old guard tower and led her up the spiraling stone steps. The stone was slick with moss, the air smelling of rot and river water. They emerged at the top, onto the walkway of the outer wall.
The sound of rushing water roared in her ears.
Below them, black and churning, lay the River Ashwater. Swollen with autumn rains, it rushed past—a deadly, freezing torrent that separated the palace grounds from the wild forests beyond.
Charlotte wrenched her hand out of Edmund’s grasp and scrambled backward from him as she finally realized what he meant byout the back. “You cannot be serious.”
“It is the only way,” her son claimed, his voice hard. He gestured to the dark water. “We jump together. We swim to the other side. We make for Lord Jesmaine’s manor on foot. It is less than five miles.”
“Swim?” she echoed, her heart lurching weakly. Fear pulsed through her veins. They would freeze. They would drown.
In her silence, Edmund gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him. His eyes shone in the darkness—desperate, wild. “We will rally the great lords, Mother. We will raise an army. We will retake the palace. But we have to live through tonight first.”
He gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, his expression softening. “Please. Come with me. I will get you to the other side.”
Charlotte’s throat tightened as she looked up into her son’s face. Her darling son. Her precious son. The man risking his life to save hers. “All right,” she whispered, steeling herself. “Let us go.”
Edmund’s throat bobbed. “Here we go, then.” He said it so calmly, so casually, as if he were suggesting they take a jaunt through the forest. But she could feel the way his fingers trembled as he took a step closer to the crumbling parapets and glanced over the side of the wall, staring down at the plunge far below.
