I squeeze my fingers into such tight fists that my pricked finger lances. Enough with the pity party, I chastise myself. I’ve magic. Magic that can allow me to pass through walls! If Justus can do it, so can I.
Peeking over my shoulder to make sure Cato and the sprites are busy, I dig my thumbnail into the base of my cut to coax out more blood, then press the tip of my finger against the smooth surface of the soap dish and slowly recreate the lock symbol.
Glass crashes, flicking my pulse. I’m about to slap the washcloth against the copper dish to remove all traces of my treachery when my index, middle, and ring fingers slip right through the metal.
I gawk at my hand in awe, mesmerized by the show of flesh poking from a solid surface. Oh my Gods! It worked. It fucking worked!
My chest grows hot with emotion. My entire life, I dreamed of this moment. Although I would’ve loved nothing more than to share it with my family and friends, with Lore, a smile blooms along my lips.
The despair I was consumed by a minute ago vanishes like dew under a blazing sun.
I have an unlimited well of power at my fingertips. Power which I can wield.
From the corner of my eye, I catch movement. Cato is striding toward me. I yank my hand free from the soap dish, then wipe it down with the soiled towel.
Although it smudges my reflection, I catch the new spark that animates my violet eyes.
I will set myself free.
As soon as Justus opens that door, whether he allows me to surface or not, I will find my way back to the wall through which he vanished and I will paint my path to freedom.
“You’ve still got blood.” Cato scratches the underside of his jaw. “Here.”
I wipe at the patch of skin he indicates, then go to work on the silk. The manual labor makes the minutes pass by quicker and gives me time to ponder why the sigil didn’t work earlier. Because my drawings were deficient, or because there was no air pocket to slip into?
I’m still thinking about it when Cato blows my mattress down from the cage and dims the fire burning in the sconces. But then I start thinking about something else entirely. How long does it take someone to dispose of a body?
“Cato?”
“Yes, Fallon?”
“How far is the Rossi grove from where we are?”
Silence.
Such a stubborn man . . . “What if Justus doesn’t come back?” I ask him, studying the shelving units which I could possibly scale, but what if we’re so deep underground, that even the ceiling won’t let me through?
“He will. His wife is here. His granddaughter. His king. He’ll come back.” Is it me, or does Cato sound as though he’s trying to convince himself?
My pulse suddenly dumps adrenaline into my veins. Adrenaline and hope. Lore mentioned he had Crows circling over every part of the Kingdom.
What if one of them has found Justus?
Twenty-Five
Awhisper-soft touch steals up the length of my body, tickles my hip bone, before dipping into the valley of my waist and rolling over the knolls of my rib cage.You left me . . .
My heart holds very,verystill.Lore?
He rakes his nails back down the length of my body, then splays his fingers around my thigh.You should not have left me.
I try to open my eyes but cannot seem to reel my lids up. It’s as though my lashes were coated in honey. I want to raise my hands to scrub at them, but my hands, like my lashes, are immovable.Why can’t I move? Why can’t I see you?
Promise to carry me in your heart always.
You’re my mate, Lore. You were inside my heart before you were inside the rest of me.My breaths come out in brisk pants that make my lungs ache.How are we talking right now? Is Dante dead? Did I kill him?
He runs the silken tips of his fingers over my cheek, then traces the frame of my face.No, Little Bird; I did.
