The Nightingale truly means to kill me.
I stumble back. There’s a three-pronged gash through my dress, the tattered ends dripping.
Her laugh echoes through the small room, breaking whatever spell I’m under. The pain comes sharp and biting, like my skin is on fire. Two of the Queen’s Army stand before the elevator. I’ll find another way, then. I cry out, staggering across the chamber, throwing open the door. And come face to face with two lines of armored men and women.
More of the traitorous Queen’s Army.
“Don’t bother running,” the Nightingale trills. “Our army has this tower completely occupied.”
My desperation intensifies as I scrutinize my helpless, blood-covered hands. The realization strikes: magic resides within me, but it’s imprisoned by that detestable flower.
There’s a yank on my hair as she tugs me back, then slams me against a wall. With a menacing touch, she runs the tip of her dagger along my arm, leaving behind a slender, crimson trail.
Tears stream from my eyes. Helpless. That’s what she’s made me. “Please,” I sob. “Think of what your mother will do if she finds out.” If I stay here, I die. As little as I wish to see Sira again, if she takes me to the Below then perhaps…
Caspian, help me. Please, help me.
“Shut up! You don’t know a thing about my mother!” The Nightingale pushes the dagger into my flesh, tearing through muscle.
I cry out, writhing as white-hot flashes of pain course through me. My knees give way, and she allows me to crumple to the floor.
“You think I can’t handle my own mother?” The Nightingale delivers a swift kick to my gut, and I curl over. With no air to scream, all I can do is heave, trying desperately to force breath into my useless lungs. “What would you know, anyway? You don’t even have a mother.”
She backs away, snarling, and flies a fist into the wall before pacing the room. The other blurry shapes—the Turquoise Knight and the two guards—keep their gazes locked on me.
Slowly, I push myself up to all fours. My body screams in protest, blood dripping down in a steady stream. If I don’t bind this soon, I’m going to faint.
“There’s no way out for you. Why do you bother getting up?” she chides.
“Because I have something to fight for. I have someone to fight for.”
Through the pulses of pain, I think of them. Kel, Ezryn, Dayton, and Farron. I think of Castletree and my friends. My father. Even the Prince of Thorns. Then the Enchanted Vale, a place I finally belong. And that is worth fighting for.
Tears stream down my face. Worth dying for.
The Nightingale kneels before me, snatching my jaw and bringing the dagger to my throat. “Why am I toying with you? A cat with a mouse. You’re not worth it.” She studies me like someone might study their reflection in a mirror. Her hands shake.
“W-what are you fighting for?” I whisper. “Tell me that, at least. Will my death help you with it?”
Her blue eyes widen. That color … Something painful clenches in my chest.
“Your death will quell the nightmares,” she says softly. “Your death will finally bring me peace.”
The cool metal presses harder against my throat, but I don’t close my eyes. I keep them locked on her. “I hope it brings you that, at least.”
Tears brim in her eyes and her hand shakes on the knife. “He’snotright. I can do this—”
She drops the dagger. And then we’re staring at each other.
A clatter sounds to the side of the room.
The Nightingale stands swiftly, dropping me to the floor. The elevator doors open, revealing a member of the Queen’s Army. They’re covered in blood. She exchanges hushed whispers with him, then turns.
“You, with me.” She gestures for the Turquoise Knight to follow her, then turns to the two guards. “Don’t let her escape. And don’t touch her until I return.”
Then she enters the elevator and descends.
I clamber back, grateful for this brief respite. Quickly, I tear the ends of my dress and tie them in a knot around my waist, staunching the blood flow.
