Imelda said nothing.
By then, the hallway had come to an end in a rotunda lined with seven statues. Behind four of the statues gleamed bright gold doors. Behind the other three statues lay shadow-darkened passages. The sound of rushing water reached Ambrose’s ears, along with the scent of stale air.
The witch queen gestured to one of the statues.
“Luckily for you,thatwill never be your fate. It doesn’t work on our bloodline—at least not for more than an hour or so. And I never harm one of my own.”
Ambrose suppressed a shudder. “How lucky, indeed.”
The witch queen startled, turning to him as if she’d forgotten he was there.
“You would not be so lucky.”
“I…I’d like to talk to you about how to…” Imelda began.
“How to be like me?”
“Yes.”
Ambrose felt his heart sinking into his stomach. The witch queen’s smile never changed its shape as she held out her hand to Imelda. Ambrose watched, waiting for some telltale flicker or hesitation in Imelda’s body, but she didn’t waver as she took her aunt’s hand, and she didn’t turn to face him either.
“Why don’t you have a look around?” Imelda said. “I might be a while.”
The two of them disappeared down a hallway to the right. Ambrose stared into the hallway long after it was clear that Imelda wasn’t coming back.And why should she?he thought. Her dream was freedom, not…he refused to finish his thought. When they had danced, he had only thought of putting distance between them, but it seemed Imelda had beaten him to it.
He should have been relieved, but all he felt was loss.
Alone and feeling increasingly foolish, Ambrose shook loose his cloak. It spluttered at him.
Undignified for a steed such as myself ! You should be very glad that the witch queen was blind to my magnificent form and deaf to my loud hooves.
“My apologies.”
Now do we trample the queen—?
“Now we figure out a way to get one of those potions on our own and then escape. Every second we spend here is a second we could turn into statues.”
I have always dreamed of my likeness being rendered in stone. I cannot wait to admire it!
Ambrose did not bother to correct the cloak. If he was right about the sound of rushing water, then one of the two hallways would be an exit. Ambrose walked down the first and found himself in an empty dining room, lit with torches held aloft in the hands of wide-eyed statues.
It seems as though we are escaping, but what about Imelda?
“She is staying here.”
No, she isn’t.
“Yes, she is.”
But she told us to have a look around—
“She doesn’t want anything to do with us anymore, trust me.”
Down the second hallway, the sound of rushing water grew louder and louder, the passage opening up into a small, covered dock. Huge crates stuffed with straw and hay lay stacked by the water’s shore, forming tall rows that stretched to the very edge of the dock. Ambrose tried to peer into one of the crates, but it was pitch black and sealed with wax. From the mouth of the hall, Ambrose spotted narrow barges bobbing in the water. He took a couple of steps forward, peering out from behind one of the rows of crates. The channel flowed out to join a river. As it wasn’t quite nightfall yet, Ambrose could see the distant shapes of hills and forests.
Out of the corner of his eye, Ambrose caught the splayed shadow of an approaching figure. He drew farther back into the hall, but not so far that he couldn’t catch the man’s loud and persistent grumbling.
“…Who bothers with shipments on a wedding day? Honestly! I’m sure all the other cursed kingdoms could wait before they received their little…”
