Page 54 of A Castle of Broken Memories

“Everyone should be allowed to have feelings.” I wrapped my arms around her shoulders, hugging her tight. “And you’re going to see the sun again, I promise. And I’m not talking about this fake sun they’ve conjured inside the castle. I’m talking about the real deal. When those doors reopen, I’m taking you outside with me.”

“Outside the castle,” Harp breathed, and I could feel her heart racing while she returned my hug with a crushing squeeze of her own.

Warm arms, a pounding heart—was this all just the expert work of a craftsman?

She felt so real.

I tucked the thought away for later. There would be time to ponder Harp’s origins after the curse was broken. Right now, I had a satchel to rescue, and the tiny matter of a massive shadow giant not crushing me while I did so.

I extricated myself from Harp’s embrace and turned to Jack. “Okay. Operation: Fetch My Bag is officially on. Jack, you’ll be in charge of distracting the giant while I nip down and grab the bag in my wolf form.” My wolf growled with approval, and I could feel her anxiously pacing inside me. She was dying for a good run.

Jack frowned, but he knew better than to argue. My wolf could outrun us both.

“Or,” Harp interjected, “instead of trying to distract it, I could play it to sleep. Magical strings and all that.”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “You can put that thing to sleep?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

He dragged a hand over his face. “And you never thought to suggest trying this during the ten years I spent dodging that beast’s fists?”

Harp gasped. “And have you struggling to carry my weight all by yourself? What if I crushed you? I would have been mortified.”

I spoke over Jack’s groan. “That’s an excellent offer, Harp, and we’ll most definitely take you up on it. Won’t we, Jack?”

I elbowed him in the ribs, and he stopped grumbling about wasted opportunities long enough to nod and mutter, “Yes, please. That would be great.”

I clapped my hands. “Awesome. Seeing as that’s settled, there’s no better time than the present. Let’s get it done.” I eyed Harp’s frame. “Jack, why don’t you stand behind Harp, and we can gently tip her backward so that we can both carry her over to the door.”

“You got it, boss.”

“Glad to hear you know who’s in charge,” I shot back with a smirk. Then, to Harp, “You ready?”

“To move off this stage?” she replied. “Oh, yes.”

Together, Jack and I squatted down and lifted the instrument up off the floor with matching grunts. She hadn’t been kidding—she was heavy. Really heavy. Thank the goddess for supernatural strength. We shuffled over to the stairs and down the steps, Harp’s awkward shape making us sway from side to side when her weight shifted. But eventually, we made it all the way across the ballroom, where I proceeded to strip down (Harp’s blush could have started a forest fire it was so bright) and Jack and I both stuffed cotton in our ears in preparation.

“Once we get Harp through the door, I’ll shift and make a run for the bag,” I instructed. “Harp, best start playing now, to be safe.”

Muffled music immediately began trickling through the ear plugs, and I felt my muscles relax happily at the sound. Fortunately, the cotton blocked out enough to keep me from nodding off completely.

Jack opened the door and kept it propped that way with his foot. We waited a moment for the music to spread into the foyer before lifting Harp up and cautiously edging our way through the doorway.

Gregar stirred, his head swiveling our way, and we froze, breath held while we waited, poised to move back into the room should he make a move. He blinked, once, twice. Thick, black lids slid lower and lower over sunken eyes, and then—miracle of miracles—they closed altogether.

A nod from Jack, and I set my end down. I pointed at him, then Harp, with a look that said don’t you dare leave her side. He merely raised a brow in return.

Apparently, I’m not nearly as intimidating without my clothes on.

Whatever.

My wolf growled low in my belly, reminding me of the task at hand. I rolled my shoulders and let her loose, paws flying down the curving, marble staircase and skidding across the smooth floor at the bottom. A quick look around the room found my discarded satchel lying on the floor a few feet from where Gregar sat hunched over, his head drooping forward against his chest. I slowed to a trot as I padded in a wide arc around his side.

He didn’t wake, and I darted forward, snatching up the bag with my teeth. The scent of elderberries and ash reached my nose first. Then it was the distinctive ping of liquid dripping onto the floor and the clink of glass shards inside the bag.

My potion bottle had broken in the fall.

Fuck.