I raced after the bird. He’d always flown faster than I could run, but he made sure I could keep up. I wasn’t sure if it was his bird senses or the weird magic he had, but his advice had kept me safe for over a decade, so I wasn’t about to stop following it now.
We wove through the forest without following any trails or patterns. There was a lot of leaf litter and spaces between trees, but brambles, vines, and branchesstill slapped me when I ran this fast. It’s why I wore a leather jerkin over my dress.
After ten or fifteen minutes, Rat dove into a dense copse of trees. I slowed down to a walk and slipped inside the thicket. Then I slowed even more and tried to make sense of what I saw.
A small cottage—adorable, but definitely abandoned for years—sat in the middle of a clearing. The clearing must have been created with magic; otherwise, it would have regrown in the time it had taken vines and brambles to completely cover the entire house.
Rat perched on a thick vine growing on the door. He looked over his shoulder, at the way we’d come, and squawked his warning screech. Then he faced the door and chirped.
“I suppose we could hide here,” I said, “but the elf soldiers are crazy good at tracking. I’m sure they’ll follow my path through the forest, and we’ll have to snap some vines to get this door opened—”
The bird cut me off by biting through a vine that blocked the door handle. He clearly wanted me to go inside. I reached in my back pocket and pulled out two lock picks. The giant padlock used an easy, old-fashioned mechanism that I opened in about three seconds. Rat bit through the biggest vines, and I grabbed the door handle.
I grinned at the bird. “You’re sure nobody will be mad at us letting ourselves in?”
He chortled like I’d made an epic joke.
I laughed back, and turned the handle. “No fear, then.”
I had to heave my shoulder against the door to convince the hinges to let us in, but it only took one good push. I held the handle as the wood gave way, practically falling into the cottage.
Sunlight spilled in with us, highlighting pristine piles of dust on top of a table and three chairs. “Look at that,” I told Rat. “A small one for you, a middle-sized one for me, and a big one for a giant elf visitor.” I rubbed my nose as it twitched from the powder-ridden air.
The bird ignored me and flew across the room, landing on a door frame on the opposite side of the room and squawking like we were about to be arrested.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t even hear them yet. And I doubt going in that room will keep us any safer than staying in here.” I really needed to find a way to live that did not include stealing. One of these days, I would get caught, and I never wanted to be at the mercy of a royal elf again. Memories sent a shiver up my spine. “We should go somewhere else, Rat. If those soldiers find us, this cottage will be a death trap.”
The cockatoo scratched at the closed door, sending skiffs of dust flying into the air.
“Fine. We’ll check it out and then go.” I left the main door open, hoping some of the outdoor light would filter into the next room. I grabbed the handle, and Rat jumped onto my shoulder. “If it’s dark inthere, we’re turning right around. I don’t care how much you want to go in.” Dark was worse than elves.
I flung the door open wide, revealing a bedroom. The space was darker than the first room, but not black. Not with both doors open. Stepping inside, my eyes adjusted to the light difference. “Aw, look, Rat, beds. One small, one medium, and one large… just like the chairs.” If they didn’t have inches of dust I’d have been tempted to lie down on the middle-sized one.
“Sir! You should check this out!”
My breath caught. Someone else had entered the little copse of trees. I stepped farther into the room so nobody would see me if they looked in the doors. On the other side of the wall, I heard underbrush crunching.
Another voice joined the first. “Did you find her?”
I gripped my skirts and tried to ignore the panic mounting in my chest. I was trapped. I’d walked myself into a cage, and they were going to get me. Any moment, they’d round the cottage and see the open doors—
“No.” The first voice interrupted my thoughts. “But this would make an excellent place to hide.”
Rat jumped off my shoulder and flew to the far wall. He landed on a painting of a waterfall and started pecking at the canvas. The paper tore, dropping dust everywhere.
I rushed closer to him. “Rat! What are you doing?” The bird had finally lost it. After fourteen years of keeping me safe, he’d led me into a dead end, andnow—with no hope left—he decided to shred a painting. “This is not helping,” I whispered, wrapping my hands around him. “We need to sneak out before they get to the entrance.”
But the cursed animal squawked and flapped out of my hands, crashing into the painting. My heart sank into my stomach as the bird, painting, and frame collided and smashed to the ground in a loud tumble of feathers and torn canvas.
“What was that?!” one of the soldiers outside shouted.
What to do? What to—
My thoughts screeched to a stop as a circle the size of my head glowed silver on the wall where the painting had been. The painting had covered it. And Rat had known.
The bird flew up to my shoulder and pointed a wing at the glowing silver. I pressed a hand to the wall.
“Thief!” One of the soldiers stood in the house’s entrance. “Step away from the magic!”
