He tied their boat off on a small wooden post that had been dug into the ground there, likely by other sentinels. She heard the jingle of keys in Roman’s hands, and she wondered—did he have the ability to get Amalie out of her cell? Surely Ozik hadn’t provided him that kind of access.
Roman jumped into the frigid water without a care for the cold and then reached for her waist. He lifted her up and out of the boat, putting his arm beneath her legs and keeping her from getting wet. Once on the sand, they took care to stick to the dark places and slunk up to the prison.
Roman gestured toward a rickety, terrifying ladder that had been built into the cliffside. Wooden planks were spread at different lengths and widths, makeshifts thing that sent a small tremor through her. She hated heights. Still, he insisted she go first, so she started the climb. Vaasa held her breath, fighting back the magic that still churned like the ocean.
Vaasa hauled herself over the sharp lip, silently thanking the lack of snowfall today. She scrambled to her feet, pressing her back against the remaining cliffside next to an opening to a small tunnel. The guards must have created a passageway here. Roman climbed up and stood next to her, pressed almost chest-to-chest with her on the narrow ledge. “Are you ready?” he whispered, holding up the brown sack again. When she nodded silently, he slipped it over her head.
Taking her elbow, he guided her into the tunnel. “Stairs,” he said under his breath. He guided her up, never slipping, while Vaasa had to focus in order to keep her balance. He still held her elbow tightly, keeping her upright. Faintly, she heard him unlatch either a door or a gate. She did her best to memorize the feel of everything around her, knowing she would need to communicate this all to Sachia.
The eerie quiet of the island made Vaasa shiver, but it was more than just the cold. Roman gripped her arm, pulling her around a corner suddenly and closing a door behind them.
“Got a jumper?” a voice asked.
“Stanek, what did you do to get tunnel duty?” Roman asked, a light laugh following his words.
“I don’t mind a boring post,” Stanek responded. “I value glory far less than getting to go home.”
“Fair point,” Roman said, and he kept walking.
“No shame in seeing me again, boy,” Stanek called after them. “Don’t rush the jump. You can always try again.”
Roman tightened his grip on her elbow. “You hear that?” he said, speaking before Vaasa had to respond, alleviating her of that problem.
She nodded, stumbling on a stair purposefully, and Roman held her upright even so.
“Get your nerves under control,” Roman snapped as he pulled her around the corner, one last part of their roles before theywere officially out of earshot. A few more steps and Roman stopped. He removed the brown sack from her head, folding it and tucking it into his jacket. Vaasa immediately glanced around at the dark tunnel they had carved into the island, the steps beneath her feet nothing but slippery stone. One door lay in front of them. Roman slid it open and glanced around, then gestured her forward. “This way.”
Vaasa stepped into a minimally furnished common room, one she realized was likely reserved for guards when they took a break or if they waited between shifts. At this time of night, it made sense that it was empty. Men were either on shift or they were home.
“Careful,” he reminded her, “and stay behind me.”
Roman led the way, and it wasn’t lost on Vaasa that he knew precisely where Amalie’s cell was. He’d been coming here at least every few days.
They entered a narrow stairwell with stone walls seeming to close in on them, and without so much as hesitating, Roman began to climb again. They went up five floors, the steps beneath them becoming less slippery the higher they went. Apparently, people didn’t go up this far all that often, because boots hadn’t worn the steps down yet. A wooden door took them into the fifth level’s hallway. Trying not to peer around at the familiar wood-and-iron doors, she kept her eyes on the back of Roman’s jacket. Every thread of brightness woven into the blue was dimmed in this lightless place. Her body remembered everything—the iron, the cold, the delusions.
When he slowed, Vaasa stared at the thick wooden door he’d stopped in front of. She shimmied past him and approached, her heart in her throat. Quietly, she peered through the iron bars. “Amalie,” she whispered.
Amalie jumped up from where she sat on the floor. “Vaasa?” She ran to the bars, her face now visible.
“Don’t stand too close,” Roman warned.
Vaasa shooed him, practically pressing her face into the iron. “Are you all right? Have you… given any more thought to what we talked about?”
Vaasa knew Roman was listening, so she chose her words carefully. But she had to know—had Amalie spoken to Veragi again? Did she have any information about the necklace?
“Yes, I—”
Amalie’s voice cut off.
Vaasa pressed harder into the bars, magic biting at her insides as she tried to calm herself. “Amalie?” Vaasa whispered.
Amalie tilted her head. Blinked.
Her eyes bled to white. Bright, glowing like the moon, like the wolf that had grown from Vaasa’s darkest moment. Vaasa sucked in a breath, and then Amalie’s hands flew up, her fingers snaking around the bars. They opened in invitation, curling in a beckoning call, and on the tips of them was the faintest trace of black mist.
Whoever this was, it wasn’t Amalie, Vaasa was certain. The thing that looked back at her was no human, no being of this world. Bright white eyes, the same she’d seen in her conjured wolf, the same she’d seen in every manifestation.
Something in Vaasa’s bones told her she knew this magic. Knew this force, even when she couldn’t see it, even when she couldn’t access it within herself. There was no reckoning powerful enough to take this familiarity away, because the magic existed within Vaasa, too.
