“I’m sorry.”
The Wolf was silent, staring at the ground. Then she looked up, determination flashing across that one eye, and shoved her hood back.
“My name is Amina Durra Moro Almunia. Princess of Madros. Last survivor of the Almunia dynasty. And I need your help to take down the general and reclaim my throne.”
The words rang in the cavern. Though they were not magic, italmost seemed like she was casting a spell by speaking her name aloud, after having hidden it for five long years.
“Perfect,” Javi said, standing with a hand outstretched toward the Wolf—Amina. “Consider our agreement amended. I’m happy to find a reason to postpone my upcoming nuptials now that I’m aware I am marrying the daughter of a despot.”
“We didn’t have an agreement,” Amina reminded him, but grasped his hand anyway.
Risa gasped, pointing at Javi. “You remember!” The details of Amina’s story hadn’t turned into a wisp of smoke and disappeared, snatched by the curse’s overwhelming magic.
Javi clasped both hands around Amina’s handshake. “This is great news!” He turned pensive, brows drawing together. “Though the name of the kingdom continues to elude me.”
Risa tried to think. It came to her, but before she could speak, it was gone.
“You must be able to remember some things, because you realized there was magic at work,” Linda reasoned. She seemed lost in thought, stroking an absentminded hand along Brunie’s back. “Though it seems the magic didn’t loosen all control.”
“You will have to pretend to get married a little while longer,” Amina told Javi seriously. “It might be the only way to get close enough to General Sur for me to finish the job.”
Linda squealed and leaped to her feet. Her pale, translucent skin shimmered again, like some kind of mood predictor. “Even if it’s pretend, you needgiftsfor a wedding!”
The witch bustled around her cavern of trash, searching her belongings. Brunie followed Linda’s every move with an unblinkingyellow gaze, frazzled whiskers twitching with each crash and rumble reverberating against the walls.
When the witch returned, she strode up first to Amina, pinning to her cape a brooch of pearlescent wings carved with such painstaking detail that Risa almost believed they’d take flight. “A reminder of where you come from and where you will go,” the trash witch said cryptically. “It was carved by the famous sculptor Omar the Great. I believe he was the royal carpenter of the first king of Madros.”
Amina’s eyes widened as she drank in the gift. She took a slow breath and trailed her fingertips over the pin. Something spun within its center that Risa could not discern from where she stood.
The witch went to Javi next. She handed him a gold pocket watch on a delicate matching chain as thin as thread. He took it with an excited gasp and pushed the crown to flip open the lid.
Disappointment flickered across his face. “It’s broken.”
The witch shrugged. “Even a broken watch is correct twice a day.”
“Yes, I suppose that is true,” he said with a grumble, slipping the chain over his head and beneath his shirt.
Finally, the witch turned to Risa.
Risa waited with a breath hitched in her throat. The witch had said she couldn’t break curses, but perhaps she could give her something that would help. Point her down the right path. Give her some kind of clue, or direction, or—anything. A breadcrumb would do.
Linda handed her a mirror. A pretty thing, though the reflecting glass was grainy, various defects evident in the warped surface. On its back, a silver cat was etched into lacquered black wood.
“You have something on your face,” Linda explained, pointing a finger to her own nose.
Risa raised the mirror.
She stared at herself, unchanged. The same pretty, angular face, with all the features she’d seen thousands of times throughout her life: the same dark eyes, the same mole above her eyebrow. The same Bad Thing, bringing misfortune to everyone and everything around her.
She rubbed at the smudge on the tip of her nose and handed the mirror back.
Linda shook her head. “Keep it. Just remember: Breaking a mirror gives you seven years of bad luck!”
The witch laughed like it was the silliest notion in the world.
CHAPTER SEVENTEENIn Which the Prince Is Incapable of Listening to Easy Instructions
Linda led them out of the tunnels and into midafternoon.
