Shock ripples through me, as does a surge of tingling power. It sends a shudder from the crown of my head to my toes as it dances over my skin, through my blood and bones. Layers upon layers of magic peel away, draining out of my feet until I’m left feeling lighter than I ever have before.
The bargain…
It’s been fulfilled.
As is my term as Huntsman.
I can feel the absence of both, the void where the magic had once been.
Why…why did she do that? Why did she set me free? Doesn’t she realize how much I know? What I could use against her now that I’m not bound by the ticking clock of our bargain?
Tris slowly returns to her throne, then sinks onto it. She looks tired. Drained. Is she going to turn herself in? Confess what she’s done?
“If Astrid didn’t kill Edmund,” she asks, “then who did?”
My muscles tense. “Marybeth poisoned the pie. You know this.”
She bolts upright in her seat. “Marybeth? The lady’s maid you were asking about?”
My pulse kicks up. This could be a trick. A way to evade claiming responsibility for her part in Edmund’s death. And yet, her scent holds no deception, only confusion. Shock. Is she deceiving me…again? Panic laces my words as I speak. “Did you or did you not send Marybeth to Davenport Estate this morning to deliver us an ultimatum?”
“No, of course not. I’ve still yet to see the girl since she left the palace almost two weeks ago.”
“Marybeth didn’t give you the power of her true name?”
“No,” she says, bristling with ire. “I may be a wretched stepmother and—if it weren’t for your interference and restraint—responsible for an unjust and deadly punishment, but…I would never compel a human. I may not trust them, but I’ve always fought to keep humans safe on the isle.”
Her words echo through my ears until they’re drowned out by the thudding of my heart.
My mind reels, traveling back to our meeting with Marybeth this morning. How she fought to tell the truth, fought to confess Tris’ guilt. I’d known something was wrong, that we were playing into the very hands that sent the girl.
We were.
I know that now.
Marybeth hadn’t been fighting compulsion to confess who she served. She delivered words that were meant to deceive us. Words only a person with the ability to lie could say.
I don’t know who sent Marybeth.
But one thing is clear.
Astrid’s in trouble.
38
ASTRID
Iscream Torben’s name again and again, even though I know it’s no use. He’s already gone. Whether I mean that in more ways than one, I don’t want to know. Tears stream down my cheeks, my cries mingling with the haunting strain of music that fills the room, courtesy of the music box Torben placed on my lap after he closed the free end of my handcuffs to the bedpost. I hadn’t noticed the little box when I first awoke. It wasn’t until I was chained in place, straining against the brass cuff and begging Torben not to leave, not to do whatever reckless thing he was preparing to do, when I saw it. He lifted it from the bedside table, turned the key at the bottom, and set it in my lap.
I nearly chucked it across the room, but his warning stilled my hand. “The key to the handcuffs is inside,” he rushed to say. “Don’t you dare toss that away. Once the song comes to an end, the box will open. Then you can take the key and free yourself. Once you’re free, run. Do not come after me. I’ll already be at Fairweather Palace.”
He flourished the Chariot held in his hand and left the rest unsaid—that if I tried to go after him, he’d likely already be dead by the time I reached my destination.
“No,” I cried. “Torben, don’t do this. We were supposed to work together.”
I’d hoped he’d lean forward and comfort me then. If he did, I’d take the Chariot from him and force him to bring me along. He was never supposed to fulfill his bargain without me. I’d promised that if we didn’t solve my father’s murder and find a way to prove my innocence, I’d turn myself over to my stepmother willingly.
“We’re out of time,” he simply said, voice choked with regret.
