Pulling free of her, I bolt outside, down the garden path. Lightning cleaves the sky, and for a moment, all is bathed white.
The East Wind arrows toward the prince, who launches a swift barrage of blows: small, churning spheres of deepest black. He dodges one, two. The third clips him on the flank, and he veers, slamming into a tree.
My loafers slap the dirt as a writhing mass slinks over him, pressing into his eyes and nose and mouth. “Let him go!” I scream.
Air explodes outward from Eurus’ body, but Prince Balior shields himself easily. His soldiers are not so lucky. A handful fall and do not rise.
The shadow returns to coat Eurus head to toe. In seconds, his motions slow, then stop altogether. I’ve nearly reached the armed men surrounding him when something wraps my ankle, pulling taut. I hit the road with a broken cry.
“Is he bound, Prince Balior?” Lady Clarisse calls from behind me.
I lift my head, blinking back tears of pain. My former employer glances down at me, sniffs, and steps over me as one would a puddle of mud.
“For the time being, yes,” replies the prince.
“Excellent.” The soldiers part, allowing her entry. “If you could please administer this brew to the East Wind, I would very much appreciate it.” She passes over a vial containing a yellow liquid.
The prince regards Lady Clarisse with an indecipherable expression. A loop of shadow lovingly drapes his neck. “What is the purpose of this potion, madam?”
“Nightmare’s Blood,” she coos. “He won’t offer the location of his island otherwise, nor will he tell us how to disable whatever enchantments protect his manor. Once we reach the island, you are free to kill him and take the manor as your stronghold. But I want his heart.”
Seemingly in accord with this line of reason, Price Balior gestures one of his men forward. “Hold him down.”
The moment those shadows peel away from the East Wind’s face, he thrashes wildly, eyes ringed in white. Strands of hair cling to his reddened face, and he snarls as one of the soldiers pries open his clenched jaw.
After dumping the serum into Eurus’ mouth, the soldier slams it shut, holding it closed while Eurus sputters, air whistling through his nose. There must be a sedative in the serum, for his limbs slacken, his eyes drift out of focus, his head lolls.
“Eurus!” When he does not respond, I kick away the shadows binding my ankles. I’m up, charging past the wall of soldiers, elbowing them aside.
A force sends me sideways against a tree. The impact rattles my bones, and I drop as Lady Clarisse advances, face pinched with loathing. The toes of her boot hit my thigh. I shrink against the trunk.
“You arethisclose,” she whispers, thumb and forefinger pressed before my face, “to being dropped into the sea. Is that what you want, Min? Because I can absolutely make it happen. Do not think you are irreplaceable. Plenty of women would love to assist me, now that the estate is sold and my new shop set to open within the week.”
My stomach drops.Sold?“You lied to me.”
“Ilied to you?” She cackles. “And what, pray tell, did I lie about?”
“I thought…” I swallow, push out the words that burn. “You s-s-said you w-would—”
“What have I told you about the stuttering?” she snaps. “Speak clearly.”
I clamp my teeth to muffle their clacking. Only now do I realize how smoothly my speech has flowed these past two months. “I thought you w-were going t-t-to—” I wince, bite down on the next stumble. “Sell the estate to me.”
Lady Clarisse blinks, head cocked, an odd gleam in her eye. “Sell the estate—toyou?”
Has she forgotten so quickly her promise to me? I fist my hands together at my front. “You told me that if I b-brought you the East Wind’s god-touched weapon, you w-would sell the estate to me.”
She appears curiously stupefied by this information. “I’m not sure why you feel the need to lie. I never said that. Selling the estate to a wealthy buyer was always the plan, if I am to afford a new shop in town. Why I would ever give you the opportunity to ruin that is beyond me.”
No. She’s lying. She has to be. And yet, my spine hunches forward, as a dog submits to its master. “But—”
“Let me be clear, Min.” Lady Clarisse takes two steps closer. The reek of old blood clings to her work apron. “You work forme. Your interests are mine. The things you care about are the things I care about. You are lucky to have the position you do.”
“But I b-brought you what you wanted,” I protest.
I’ve never heard a sound so derisive as the laughter pelting from her mouth. “If you had not disobeyed my orders to begin with,” she says with false sweetness, “we would not be in this mess. Or did you forget that you entered the northern tower against my orders and released the prisoner?”
My eyes drop to the dirt road. Here, it is harmless, it is safe. “I’m sorry for disobeying you. I thought… as your daughter…”
