“Just act like everything’s normal.” I pull her to her feet and realizethe impossibility of what I’m asking. Her eyes are rolling in her head like a mad pony. I don’t know how long we have until she completely loses it.
Still, there is nothing for me to do but march her out of Hollow Hall as fast as I can. I stick my head into the main chamber. It’s still empty, so I drag her from the library. She’s looking around as though she’s seeing the heavy wooden staircase and the gallery above for the first time. Then I remember I left my fake note on the table in the library.
“Hold on,” I say. “I have to go back and—”
She makes a plaintive sound and pulls against my grip. I drag her along with me anyway and grab the message. I crumple it up and stuff it into my pocket. It’s useless now, when the guards could recall it and connect a servant girl’s disappearance to the household of the person who stole her. “What’s your name?”
The girl shakes her head.
“You must remember it,” I insist. It’s terrible that instead of being sympathetic, I am annoyed.Buck up, I think.Stop feeling your feelings. Let’s go.
“Sophie,” she says in a kind of sob. Tears are starting in her eyes. I feel worse and worse still for how cruel I am about to be.
“You’re not allowed to cry,” I tell her as harshly as I can, hoping my tone will scare her into listening. I try my best to sound like Madoc, to sound as if I am used to having my commands obeyed. “Youmust not cry. I will slap you if I have to.”
She cringes but subsides into silence. I wipe her eyes with the back of my hand. “Okay?” I ask her.
When she doesn’t answer, I figurethere’s no more point in conversation. I steer her toward the kitchens. We’ll have to pass by guards; there’s no other way out. She has pasted on a horrible rictus of a smile, but at least she has enough self-possession for that. More worrying is the way she can’t stop staring at things. As we walk toward the guards, the intensity of her gaze is impossible to disguise.
I improvise, trying to sound as though I am reciting a memorized message, without inflection in the words. “Prince Cardan says we are to attend him.”
One of the guards turns to the other. “Balekin won’t like that.”
I try not to react, but it’s hard. I just stand there and wait. If they lunge at us, I am going to have to kill them.
“Very well,” the first guard says. “Go. But inform Cardan that his brother demands he bring both of you back this time.”
I don’t like the sound of that.
The second guard glances over at Sophie and her wild eyes. “What do you see?”
I can feel her trembling beside me, her whole body shaking. I need to say something fast, before she does. “Lord Cardan told us to be more observant,” I say, hoping that the plausible confusion of an ambiguous command will help to explain the way she’s acting.
Then I walk on with Sophie through the kitchens, past the human servants I am not saving, aware of the futility of my actions. Does helping one person really matter, on balance?
Once I have power, I will find a way to help them all, I tell myself. And once Dain is in power, I will have power.
I make sure to keep my movements slow. I let myself breathe only when we’ve finally stepped outside.
And it turns out, even that’s too soon. Cardan is riding toward us ona tall, dappled gray horse. Behind him is a girl on a palfrey—Nicasia. As soon as he gets inside, the guards will ask him about us. As soon as he gets inside, he will know something is wrong.
If he doesn’t see me and know sooner than that.
What would be the punishment for stealing a prince’s servant? I don’t know. A curse perhaps, such as being turned into a raven and forced to fly north and live for seven times seven years in an ice palace—or worse, no curse at all. An execution.
It takes everything I’ve got not to break and run. It’s not as though I think I could make it to the woods, especially not hauling a girl with me. He would ride us both down. “Stop staring,” I hiss at Sophie, harsher than I mean to. “Look at your feet.”
“Stop scolding me,” she says, but at least she’s not crying. I keep my head down and, looping her arm through mine, walk toward the woods.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cardan swing down from his saddle, black hair blown by the wind. He looks in my direction and pauses for a moment. I suck in my breath and don’t run.
I can’t run.
There is no thundering of hoofbeats, no racing to catch and punish us. To my immense relief, he seems to see only two servants heading toward the forest, perhaps to gather wood or berries or something.
The closer we get to the edge of the woods, the more each step feels fraught.
Then Sophie sinks to her knees, turning to look back at Balekin’s manor. A keening sound comes from deep in her throat. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “No no no no no. No. This isn’t real. This didn’t happen.”
