Kaelyn hurriedly changed out of her school uniform and tied her extra set of clothes into a bundle, using her belt as a strap. In no uncertain terms was she going to stick around for Harcourt to drag her back home, even farther from Wyndham then she already was. She scampered out her tiny bedroom window and hoisted herself onto the roof. If Wyndham was in Mythnar then that’s where she needed to go. Once she told him Harcourt’s plan he’d be able to protect her and she wouldn’t have to worry about this mess any more.
Mythnar was at least fourteen days north by land. It would be a little faster if she stole aboard a ship going up the coast, but if the crew found her she’d end up either overboard or right back here with Harcourt. She couldn’t risk that. The North Road was her best option. She’d need supplies and food, but the thought of going back into the school made her stomach roil. Too many people within could detain her for any number of reasons. She’d just have to find food on the way. And her first potential resource was an apple tree on the other side of the Collegiate, conveniently between her and the city’s northern gate.
The setting sun stained the Collegiate’s already pink walls bloody. From her perch on the roof, Norwell’s winding streets lay before her, a maze among the weather-beaten buildings. But it didn’t take her long to plot out the route to the wide Main Road. She crawled over the uneven ceramic shingles to the edge nearest the apple tree, her food and way down.
Movement caught her eye and she inched away from the edge, searching for danger. A flash of white and a hint of shifting shadow drew her attention.
She leaned forward. A fat man waved a white handkerchief about, flitting from his forehead to his neck to his other hand and back again like a nervous bird. He stood in the small courtyard in the shade of the apple tree beside a wrought-iron fence.
“You need to know the dangers of transmuting a person,” said the fat man.
A dark figure slid out of the shadows and into the sunlight. Harcourt.
Kaelyn’s heart pounded. This was a situation she’d never wanted to be in again, hanging onto a precarious perch looking down at him.
“I don’t care,” said Harcourt, his voice dark. “Can you do it?”
“Yes, but your Highness, if he remains in the form for too long I might not be able to change him back.” The handkerchief flew to the man’s forehead.
“I have every confidence in your abilities.”
She should go. Now. Sneak to the other side of the Collegiate and leave. But a sick fascination kept her rapt on Harcourt’s conversation. Besides, any more information she could give Wyndham about the murder plot, the better. A transmutation spell was serious magic. If her one month at the bard school had been of any use it was what little she’d learned about magic. Transmutation was the magical art of turning one thing into something else, but it was dangerous to use on living beings.
“Why would you even risk it? He could–”
Harcourt turned to the fat man and Kaelyn imagined the prince’s dark gaze freezing the other man.
“That’s my business and I pay you to obey me. Not ask questions.” Harcourt turned, pushed open the wrought-iron gate, and climbed the steps to a second floor patio.
The fat man scurried behind him and the gate, now forgotten, swung in the breeze.
The urge to follow twisted in her gut. Though the last time she’d tried to overhear a conversation it had not turned out well for her.
She leaned over the edge of the roof, straining to see the top of the stairs. In the heat of the late-summer evening, Harcourt hadn’t closed his patio door and the expensive silk window-shears billowed out onto the patio and disappeared back into the room.
Oh, Ancient Father, she shouldn’t. Look at the mess it had gotten her into already. She shouldn’t even think about it.
But. . . .
Just walk away. Be a good girl.
She shifted away from the ledge. The apple tree and the road to her escape lay a few feet away in the courtyard.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about Harcourt.
She grabbed the largest branch she could reach. Shimmying along it to the next branch, she worked her way down into the courtyard, determined to follow the path leading away from Harcourt and certain freedom. But she glanced back at the stairs and the patio. The ghostly curtains reached out and beckoned her. On the horizon, night pressed against the sunset. The curtains disappeared back into the room and blew out again. Wavering in the folds of the sheer cloth was the shadow of the dark prince.
Kaelyn drew back, cowering in the lengthening gloom. Behind Harcourt, a sickly green light illuminated the curtains with eerie, twisting shadows. She had to find out what he was doing. The Queen’s life depended on it.
The wind rustled the leaves of the apple tree, carrying the scent of the over-ripe fruit. The fat man called out and Harcourt stepped away from the window. Kaelyn crept up the stairs. Her pulse pounded.
The fat man began to chant in a language she didn’t recognize, his voice deep and monotonous. The curtains reached out again, grasping for her. She was so close. One more step and she’d be able to see into the room. The green glow intensified.
She didn’t want to look in, didn’t want to be caught. Again. But no one would expect magic. This time she would be careful. So very careful.
She knelt two steps from the top, and peered into the room. Harcourt’s dark-clad legs blocked her view. She stifled a gasp of surprise and shifted. The walls were awash with sickly light. It pulsed from a small jewel dangling from the fat man’s hands. He stood on the far side of the room. In the center knelt a young man, his forehead pressed to the floor and his body twitching and shaking.
The fat man finished his chant and sucked in a deep breath. “Now, your Highness?”
Harcourt squatted by the young man and grabbed his chin. “You know your duty?”
The young man nodded.
“So be it,” said Harcourt, releasing the young man’s face. The fat man hissed four, sharp words that Kaelyn couldn’t understand. The young man wailed, painful, gut-wrenching screams. His body contorted, collapsing in on itself, crunching and tearing.
She screamed and stood. They had to stop. They were killing him. Harcourt spun and grabbed her arm. She wrenched free from his grasp and threw her weight into a punch, connecting with his nose.
Harcourt staggered back, his dark eyes hard with fury, blood leaking from his nose. The green light colored the whites of his eyes, making him appear demonic. He leapt, seized her shoulder, and rammed a fist into her gut. Air burst from her lungs with a shower of spittle.
Behind him, the young man kept screaming. The curtains swept out to embrace her and Harcourt, tangling about them.
Kaelyn punched at his face again, but he jerked her aside. She stumbled, but couldn’t catch her balance, her foot finding only air. Everything but her mind slowed down. Harcourt’s eyes widened, even more demonic in the light. She was floating through the air, an autumn leaf, blown from a tree.
She panicked. Time caught up to her. She smashed into a step, fire burning through her left shoulder. Her feet pulled her over, her face hitting the next step. Spot danced across her vision. Ribs, knees, hips, step after step until she rolled painfully into the courtyard.
Unconsciousness teased her, promising to take the pain and dizziness away. She didn’t know if she could move. Didn’t want to try. She could barely breathe, each gasp forced against a constriction in her chest. Her vision twisted and blurred. All she could see were the steps. And then Harcourt’s feet came into view.
“Your Highness,” said the fat man, his voice edged with panic. “I’ll go get help.”
“No.” Harcourt knelt beside her, his face so close she couldn’t bring him into focus.
“But all that blood.”
“Yes.”
“She won’t survive the night if we don’t–”
“Exactly.”
She had to get up. Do something. She was bleeding but she had no idea from where. Her body hurt too much to tell.
“This courtyard is secluded, no one should find her,” said Harcourt as he stood and brushed his palms down his thighs. “When she doesn’t arrive at the docks to return to Vitreah, I’ll have that insipid Head Master search for her. Her death will be an accident.”
“Your Highness?”
He wouldn’t just leave her here. He couldn’t. But her death was insignificant in comparison to his mother’s. Black dots swam across her vision, blotting him out.
“What was her death?” Menace filled Harcourt’s voice.
“An accident.”
“Good.” Two sets of hard-soled boots climbed the stairs.
She struggled to raise her head. Hot pain shot through her and the darkness took her.
