“Wait,” he said.
“What now?”
He took a ring out of his pocket and held it up to Bree. “It’s a man’s ring but I want you to have it.”
Bree took it. It was a thick gold band with a gnarled tree etched into the head. She widened her eyes at Garrett. “Is that the bristlecone tree?”
“Yeah, I had it made from a sketch I did, and I was going to wear it but then I thought how you love that tree more than any of us so I want you to take it to remember us by.”
Bree threw her arms around his neck and gave him a hug. “Thank you.”
She stood back and looked at the ring. “It’s beautiful.”
Once she’d put it into an inner pocket, she twisted the top of the orb, and let herself fall into the dark void.
Chapter 17
Seconds later, she landed on her knees, not hard but enough that she had to put her hands in front of her to keep from falling on her nose.
Blinking to get her eyes to focus, she scanned the area around her. She had landed on a landing of sorts. The floor had fallen away behind her but the railings in front of her were still intact. The railing on one side of the stairs was crumbling away while the other looked hardy enough.
Another set of stairs led upwards. She tipped her head back and looked up. The roof looked solid enough—amazing paintings filled in the areas between the vaulted wood ribs, stars, birds, foxes, and dragons. Although they were faded and crumbling, she smiled.Garrett would kill to see that.
She must have landed in the ruins. She said a silent thank-you to her aunt and uncle and kept her head down. Who knew what kind of reception she’d receive.
“Princess Morla, Princess Morla.”
Bree widened her eyes in surprise. A child’s voice.
“What is it, child?”
Bree slid as quietly as she could to the railing where twofloorboards had fallen away and peeked down to what was once a great hall. She slammed her hand over her mouth. The child was the little girl who had traveled there with her and Horland. She could speak.
“It’s Sir Garlain. He won’t eat his soup and it’s getting cold.”
Of course, she could speak, and although Bree had suspected she could, it still surprised her to actually hear the little girl.
The woman the child called Princess Morla picked up a long eyeglass and jogged to the stairs. The delicate combs in her hair fought to keep her light brown locks in place.
“Go sit with him, Kieri, and I will be there in a moment.”
Kieri. What a lovely name, and Bree thought it suited her perfectly—except she wasn’t lovely, she was a little bug for not speaking before.
Bree scrambled behind a statue of a knight as Morla bounded up the stairs. Once she passed, Bree knew she should go to her father, but her curiosity had her carefully following Morla.
The princess crept out onto the roof of the highest building and put the eyeglass to her eye. Bree slithered along the walled edge of the roof, ducking into a cutout every now and then. At one she stopped and looked down. She didn’t need an eyeglass to see a group of men below, and she recognized the man in the center of the image immediately. She smacked her hand against her mouth to stop any noise escaping. Horland.
He was surrounded by bandits, some of whom were the same ones who captured her and the little girl. One had a sword aloft, ready to slice Horland’s head off.
“Sir Horland,” the girl gasped. Bree snapped her head around. Kieri was standing next to the princess. Bree pressed her body against the huge stones.
“Princess Morla, they are going to slay Sir Horland,” Kieri said.
“I think they’re just trying to scare him.” Morla placed her glass against her eye and looked out over the east.
Kieri stood on tiptoes, her attention on the scene below.
Bree resumed studying Horland and his surrounds. Two wagons and horses stood at the edge of the clearing and one of the wagons held a cage full of people. It was the very same cage in which she was installed after being captured.
