He nodded, grim-faced. “If they followed the same trail I did, they could reach this castle by midday. I hid your trail into the forest by making more to confuse them, but it won’t derail them completely. And if Gaspard is leading them...”
He didn’t need to finish the thought. Gaspard would know where to look. He’d been to the castle before, had found me here once already. And this time, he’d bring men with fire and swords, men who believed they were hunting a witch.
“I found beans and made bread,” I said, bringing my pack over to the bed. I made sure to note how he said he hid my trail. “It’s not much, but—”
“It’s perfect.” His hand brushed mine as he took the pack, and something electric passed between us, something that had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with the way his eyes softened when they met mine. It made a flutter in my stomach.
I looked away first, focusing on transferring the food to his larger bag. “We’ll need water, weapons—”
A sound cut through my words, freezing us both in place. A low, rumbling growl that echoed through the castle’s stone corridors like distant thunder. Then another, and another, until the air vibrated with them.
Wolves.
Not the natural wolves that lived outside the forest’s depths, but something else. Something twisted by the same darkness that had claimed the sacred acre.
“They’re inside the castle,” I whispered, horror constricting my throat. “That’s not possible. The wards—”
“Are failing,” Alain finished, already moving to the door. He pressed his ear against it, listening, then jerked back as a chorus of howls erupted from somewhere below, the sound bouncing off stone until it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“We’re trapped,” I said, panic rising like bile.
“No.” Alain’s voice was steady, his gaze calculating as he assessed our chamber. “There’s always a way out. You’ve escaped prisons before. So have I.”
He was right. I’d survived Gaspard’s touch, the drowning cage, and Alain’s tower room. This was just another cage, and I refused to die in it.
“The wolves will be drawn to our scent,” I said, mind racing. “If we can create a distraction, make them think we went one way while we go another...”
Alain nodded, already gathering items from around the room. My hairbrush with strands still caught in its teeth, the blanket we’d slept under, a scrap of bloody bandage from his wound.
“Something with our scent,” he said, bundling it all together. “Throw it down the hallway to the right, while we go left toward the main staircase.”
“Will it work?” I asked, shouldering the pack as he tied off the bundle.
“It has to.”
Another howl, closer now, followed by the click of claws on stone. They were coming up the stairs. We had moments at most.
Alain moved to the door, ear pressed against it again. He held up a hand for silence, listening intently. Five fingers. Four. Three. Two. One.
He pulled the door open just enough to squeeze through, his movements deliberate and silent. I followed, heart hammering so loudly I was certain the wolves would hear it. The corridor stretched in both directions, shadows pooling at either enddespite the morning light filtering through high windows. To the right, a series of other chambers. To the left, the grand staircase that led down to the great hall and, eventually, the main doors.
The growls were louder now, punctuated by snarls and the scrabbling of claws. They were almost here.
Alain met my eyes, his own steady despite the fear I knew he must feel. Without a word, he hefted the bundle of scented items, drew back his arm, and threw it as hard as he could down the right corridor. It hit with a satisfying thump, bounced once, and rolled, trailing our scent like a line of invisible breadcrumbs.
We didn’t wait to see if it worked. We ran left, our footsteps as quiet as we could make them on the stone floor. Behind us, a chorus of excited yips and growls told us the wolves had found the bundle. A temporary reprieve, but it wouldn’t last long. They’d realize the deception and follow our true scent soon enough.
We reached the grand staircase just as the first howl of frustration echoed through the corridor. They’d discovered the trick. Now it was a race.
Down the stairs we flew, my skirts hitched up to avoid tripping, Alain just ahead of me. His injury didn’t seem to slow him. Adrenaline or my healing magic kept the pain at bay. The great hall loomed before us, its massive doors our salvation if we could reach them in time.
Behind us, claws clicked on marble as the wolves reached the top of the staircase. I risked a glance back and immediately wished I hadn’t. These were shadows given form, their eyes burning red and yellow like hot coals, their fur writhing with the same darkness that infected the sacred acre. They moved wrong, as if their joints bent in directions nature never intended.
“Don’t look back,” Alain commanded, grabbing my arm to urge me faster. “Just run.”
We sprinted across the great hall, our footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The doors were just ahead, massive oak panels bound with iron. I’d never asked if they could be barred from the outside. I prayed they could.
Alain reached them first, throwing his weight against one panel while I pushed at the other. They swung open with surprising ease, morning sunlight blinding us for a precious second.
