I’m so startled I bolt upright. With my eyes unfocused, I assess the voids once more, this time with renewed determination. My stomach flips as I confirm I was right. Where once there was an unrelenting wall, there’s now merely a curtain of hazy black. The hollow spots remain, but they no longer feel lost to me. I shift my attention back to my memory of the colorful night sky. It remains as perplexing as ever, but as I fill my mind with that image and focus on the yearning in my heart, something gives way. The thinnest layer of the veil that covers my comprehension lifts, and the image seems to move in my mind, just a fraction. I pour my attention deeper. Open my heart further. Peel back another layer. Another.
Inch by inch, the image shifts, no longer merely a still frame I’ve captured. Slowly, it’s becoming a true memory. As I peel back yet another layer, the vision moves. My view shifts, leaving the colorful display above and lowering down, down, inch by imaginary inch, until the tops of horns come into view. Then steadily beating wings. Black hair with a widow’s peak. A forehead.
My heart pulses.
I know it’s him, even before I see his dark eyes. Even before my mental gaze falls upon his smiling lips. Lips the memory version of me…wants to kiss.
The sound of my door opening drags me from my vision with violent force. My chest heaves with a gasp as I attempt to gather my bearings.
“Face me,” demands a male voice. “Hands in your lap.”
I do as I’m told, following the same order I’m given every time the door opens. Sit at the edge of my bed. Face the door. Hands in my lap. Like I’m a damn criminal.
A servant enters the room with my lunch tray and hurries toward the small tea table where my previous tray rests. But she isn’t who I should be looking at. I banish lingering thoughts of that night sky—and Thorne’s lips—from my mind and remind myself of my current objective.
Escape. Freedom. My plan.
My gaze snaps to the guard. He’s the fourth and final one I need to capture. He’s the shortest of them, with beady eyes, a layer of dark fur covering his skin, and a head of short gray hair. The contrasting colors and patterns of his fur and hair make me wonder if he’s a honey badger in his unseelie form.
I lift my hands—my arms still trembling from the shock of uncovering a partial memory—and form a rectangle with my forefinger and thumb. I quickly frame it around the guard, and blink.
There. Captured.
His eyes narrow. “Hands down, Highness,” he barks, showing a mouth of pointed teeth.
I give him a coy grin and lower my palms to my lap. “Of course.”
The servant gathers up my empty breakfast tray, leaving the new one behind, and rushes from the room. With a final glare, the guard closes the door. The sound of the key securing the lock follows. I grit my teeth, realizing I still haven’t discovered where on their person the guards keep the key. They never leave it showing while the door is open. So that is yet another thing I must do while my subject is paralyzed. Search their body for the key. It can’t be too far, for the guards are always quick to lock the door as soon as it’s closed—
A rattling sound draws my attention. I glance around my room, unsure of where it’s coming from, until I notice a shift of movement on my tray. With careful steps, I approach the tea table, eyes locked on the silver domed lid that covers my dinner plate. More rattling and scratching as the dome scrapes against the porcelain plate. Then a clear yowl as it launches off the tray and crashes to the ground. I freeze in place, staring at the black-and-white creature sprawled on my plate, one leg extended where she must have kicked the lid away.
Her name rushes from my lips. “Minka?”
“Thank the night,” she says, tiredly rising to all fours. “I’m so glad you didn’t eat me.”
I blink at her. “What are you doing here?”
She hops off the tray and onto the floor, circling my legs with a purr. “You have no idea what I went through to get served as your lunch.”
I scoop her up, and she nestles against me, clearly distressed. “Yes, but…why?”
She pulls back to look at me with her wide amber eyes. “We’re here to help you escape.”
“We?”
“Mr. Boris too. We took the first train here, but when we arrived yesterday, we found out what happened. Thankfully, Mr. Ferdinand spoke to Mr. Boris before the king and queen found us.”
I tilt my head. “Mr. Ferdinand?”
“Mr. Boris’ brother.”
Ah, she must mean the other fox with the bow tie.
“So,” Minka smashes her face into mine in a very feline way, “we’re here to help you!”
Emotion clogs my throat. I’ve grown so fond of Minka and Mr. Boris, but they never expressed any definite loyalty to me, especially in terms of defying my parents, but what they’re doing now…
“Thank you,” I say, hugging Minka a little tighter.
