“You killed him!” Diala says.
I let out a little huff of disbelief and snatch back my outstretched hand. Diala approaches the puddle and draws the hood back, exposing the creep’s head and neck.
The snowflake weapon juts from his throat, right where his Adam’s apple would be. Whitish fluid oozes from the wound.
“Did I do that?” My voice sounds like it’s coming from far away.
“Yes! I watched you!”
“I can’t believe it.” I must have reached into my pocket, gripped the weapon without cutting myself to shreds, and then thrown it—accurately—at the Stone King. “How did I do that?”
“Magic?” she suggests.
I choke on a laugh. Maybe I’m better at fighting than I thought.
“You must go.” Diala grips my shoulders. “You must get out of here.” The walls shake, and beetles and scummy silt rain down.
I dash my hands over my head, brushing filth away. Diala pushes me towards the doorway. There’s a distant rumble and the room shudders.
“Get out now while you can,” she shouts.
“What about you?” I shout back over the earthquake.
“This whole castle was made by his magic. It will fall with his death.”
That’s why it stinks in here. “I'm not leaving without you,” I say. I grab her arm and pull. Compared to her, I’m surprisingly strong. Or maybe the queen, beautiful and statuesque as she is, isn't in top health. Which makes sense, since she spent decades living with Mr. Gross Snake Mage.
“I cannot,” Diala pants as I tow her to the door. “He put a curse upon me, upon this land.”
“He’s dead.” I duck. Another rumble shakes loose a ceiling stone. “You survived, he didn’t. But we need to move.”
Behind us, the Stone King lies with eyes wide and staring in death. A fuzzy white film has already covered him.Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Fungus to fungus.
I tug Diala forward and push her into the hall beyond. “I need your help to get out.”
The stones crack under our feet. Diala sags against a wall. “I cannot. I have never seen beyond these castle walls.”
Behind us, the ceiling in the throne room is crashing down.
“I'm not leaving without you,” I bellow in her ear. “If you want me to live, you’d better start running.”
“Why should I care if you live or die?” she shoots back but she lets me pull her onward. It’s not her fault she’s in such a bitchy mood. I would be kind of pissy if my husband had died at the hands of our enemy, and the enemy had kept me captive for decades.
The whole hall is rocking. Diala grabs and flings me out of the way before a stone smashes down where I was standing. Bright sunlight flashes down the crack in the roof.
I gesture to it. “There's so much to live for.”
“Not for me. You can do this. I can't.” But she keeps moving.
Rubble falls onto her dress, pinning her in place, and I help her tug it free. We clamber over mucky stones. Clouds of moldy dust billow out ahead of us.
Diala is now fighting as much for her own survival as I am for mine. When we get to a fork in the hall, she grabs my elbow and guides me to the wall. She presses a worn, square cut stone and a secret door opens up, leading to a tunnel.
“This way.” The tunnel is dark but wide enough for us to both fit side by side. Diala has to duck her head. “This leads out of the castle.”
“See?” I say. “I couldn't do this without you.”
She doesn't answer but when I grab her hand, she grips mine and doesn’t let go.
