To be fair to the man, it had only been a few days since he showed up. To be unfair, Cally was sick and tired of being a prisoner, and the man had promised to get her out.

  Every time Artesia entered and demanded answers from Cally or tried increasingly dubious spells and potions on her to get it out of her ‘subconscious,’ Cally got a little less fair and a little more desperate.

  So far, the truth spell, the truth potion, the dream spell and potion, and the inhibitor remover had not worked, though, in her arguably inebriated states proceeding these bits of magic, Cally certainly had been more than forthcoming about herself and her family. She dreaded the reaction her mother would have when she inevitably found out how many royal secrets and secret-adjacents Cally had let slip to who was obviously an enemy of the crown.

  By Rulan! She hadn't even gotten to try alcohol, and she already hated it if the inebriety post it was of a similar variety.

  … And that was another notch on the annoyed-at-her-savior tally.

  She sighed.

  “Oh, is my little sweetling already tired?” Artesia asked, showing up yet again despite the moon peeking in through the window—

  Wait, never mind. Lady of the Night, and all that.

  Cally smiled slightly, strained and put out as it was. “Not really,” She said, though it was a lie. She might not have done much of anything the past few days, but apparently, doing nothing was exactly as tiring as doing everything. Well, that and all the magic Artesia had put her under, but that wasn’t the point. “Did you come with a new spell?” She added, suppressing the desire to sigh again.

  Artesia’s smile froze. “No,” She said. “Not tonight.”

  Cally’s eyes flared. “Really?” She said, sarcastic despite her exhaustion. “That is new.”

  Artesia pursed her lips. “You know,” She said, finally. “Your words never fail to amuse me.”

  “I live to please.”

  She scoffed. “If you did, you would have revealed the key already. But alas, you do not.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the window, cocking her head. “Truly, it befuddles me,” She continued conversationally, speaking to the sky outside, murmuring such that Cally could barely hear. “How could she have managed…? But even if she embedded it—” She broke off, eyebrows wrinkling in annoyance.

  Cally shifted in discomfort. “Who?” She asked, again unable to stop herself, and wanting so desperately to know the answer… and just as desperately to not. “My mother?”

  Artesia shifted her head the slightest bit, just to meet her eyes. “Yes,” She said plainly. “Isera. Isera, who hid the key.”

  “Then why do you even think I have it?!” Cally burst.

  For a moment, Artesia was silent. And then, her lips curled into the most sympathetic smile she had displayed ever since Cally had arrived. “Because she transferred it to you. There was no one else she could have done this to.”

  Cally stared, eyes wide and mouth slightly open and questions burning on the tip of her tongue, but–

  Refusing to come out.

  Artesia straightened, shuffling closer. “It isn’t very nice hearing about your mother’s secrets, is it?” She asked, obviously not expecting an answer. “I suspect you may not rest easy because of this.”

  Cally wanted to laugh. She didn’t.

  “Why don’t I sing you a lullaby?” Artesia asked, perking up. “It’ll help you sleep, and maybe I shall figure out how to solve this problem by morning.”

  Cally seriously doubted it. “I’m not a child,” She managed, finally.

  The witch stared at her with a raised eyebrow. “I never claimed you were,” She said. “Though you are, of course, a child.”

  Cally frowned.

  “But that’s not why I suggested the lullaby,” She continued. “It’s simply an offer. You may refuse if you need to.” Her smile flickered with mischief.

  Unfortunately, Artesia seemed to have narrowed in on Cally’s weakness by now, because curiosity burned inside her and an itching in the pit of her stomach demanded she hear this ‘lullabye’. For a moment, she held steadfast.

  Then Artesia began to hum. It was something low and unrecognizable and—

  “Fine,” Cally said through gritted teeth. “Tell me.”

  Artesia laughed, eyes sparkling, and she looked so much younger. For a moment, she even looked happy, like singing to Cally was something she counted as ‘fun.’ And then she began to sing, her voice sweet and pitched, her song floating through the room. “Come, little sweetling, make me proud~”

  Oh, Cally thought. That’s where the ‘sweetling’ comes from.

  “Or you’ll have to wear a burning shroud.”

  “Wait, what?” Cally said, almost instinctively in horror, but Artesia wasn’t stopping, her eyes still glittering and her grin booming.

  “There’ll be little owls embroidered by blood,” She sang. “And they’ll laugh in your face as you’re dragged through the mud.”

  “Oh, god,” Cally muttered. No wonder Artesia was so messed up if this was what she went to sleep to when she was a kid.

  “And when you think it’s over,” Artesia continued, reaching over to tap Cally incomprehensibly on the tip of her nose. “When you’re finally done

  I’ll start from the beginning

  Oh, doesn’t it sound so fun?

  So come, little sweetling, make me proud

  So I can smile sweetly and clap oh-so-loud.” She stopped, smiling widely.

  Cally stared. “Why?” She said finally. “Why would you do that?”

  Artesia just chuckled. “My childhood mentor forced me to listen to that,” She explained. “I figured I would take an indirect form of revenge and force you to listen in turn.” She smiled even more wickedly. “Why, don’t you like it, sweetling?”

  “Rulan is never going to let you ascend,” Cally said blankly.

  Artesia started to laugh. “I suppose not,” She agreed. “But it seems to have been worth it.” Her smile lessened. “I really do wish I had gotten to meet you under better circumstances,” She murmured, but it carried, and the simple incredulousness of the statement almost made Cally cry out. But before she could force herself to reply, to ask, to demand, Artesia hardened in front of her eyes and turned, walking out. “But Isera made her choice, and I have made mine.”

  And then she was gone, Cally left behind in a room that seemed just the slightest bit more haunted than before.

  Cally woke in the middle of the night to Artesia standing above her, and the woman’s face fell. One hand held a bottle of what could only be a potion. The other sparked with magic, and before Cally had the foresight to scream in her face and struggle, Artesia waved the magic over her face, and she fell back, her eyes drooping with a heavy load, her mind drifting, drifting, gone.

  The next time Cally opened her eyes, she was in her bed, and there was no magical witch experimenting on her in the middle of the night. Instead, the light peeking in through the window proved it was the wee hours of the morning, waiting for even a bird to peek out of its nest and begin to sing.

  For a moment, she had to frown, for other than anger at Artesia, she had no idea what woke her.

  And then her eyes fell on the doorway, and she stilled, for her would-be savior stood there, gesturing and whispering something she couldn’t quite hear, but likely the sound that had awoken her. And despite his lateness, despite her unfairness in blaming him, despite the chills that were sneaking across her skin (because by Rulan, had Artesia tried something on her every night? What else had she done to her that Cally had no idea about?), her heart filled and filled with a sense of relief she couldn’t bear to explain. And in that moment, Erdor, with his ruffled auburn hair and sharp brown eyes, looked like the most beautiful person in the world… because he was here to help her leave.

  She scrambled to her feet, rushing to the edge of the door. It was a mere foot of space that divided them — a foot and spells they could not fathom, but that was close enough. “Do you have everything?” She asked urgently.

  Erdor looked absolutely annoyed, and despite the same feeling having assailed Cally the entire time Erdor hadn’t rescued her, it looked adorable. “Everything except a sane plan,” He snapped back but gestured to the floor beside him, where there was a very lumpy pile of bedsheets knotted together and then folded as best possible.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Cally winced. “You definitely need lessons for that,” She muttered.

  Erdor heard, for his eyes narrowed. “Are you criticizing your only rescuer?”

  He had a good point. “Nope,” She said brightly. “You did amazingly!”

  Erdor coughed, but Cally was pretty sure he was trying to hide a smile. She counted that as a win.

  “And the spells?” She asked, moving on to more serious conversation. “Any idea?”

  “No,” Erdor said, falling in line. “We may have but one chance at this. I have no idea what kind of spells she might have put up, nor has she explained, despite my asking her.”

  “And wouldn’t that have been suspicious?”

  “Emissary from her brother, remember?” Erdor pointed out. “And she’s supposed to be reporting to him.”

  “Right,” Cally said, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “And Artesia?”

  He furrowed his brow. “You didn’t notice?” He asked.

  “Notice what?”

  He sighed. “She’s always resting after the moon goes down,” He explained. “It’s why she wakes late and never comes to breakfast.”

  Cally crossed her arms. “I might know if I were ever allowed out to breakfast,” She shot right back.

  He made a considering face. “Right,” He said, shaking his head. “Anyway, we should probably confirm the plan.” He hesitated. “You sure you don’t want to risk the hallways?”

  “And however many flights of stairs there are?” Cally asked rhetorically. “No, thank you. Why? Did you discover your fear of heights?”

  Erdor rolled his eyes. “No,” He said mildly. “Just a question.” His twitching fingers said differently, but Cally was still feeling charitable, so she forgave him.

  “Don’t worry,” She assured. “I’ve got a lot of experience. I’ll help you.”

  He gave her a once-over. “Right,” He drawled. “Lots of experience.”

  Cally really wanted to reach over the boundary and smack him. She did not. “Plan?” She asked.

  “Plan,” Erdor confirmed. “Still the tree?”

  She nodded.

  “Then we secure the rope and use it as you think we must. I’ve already set up a few disturbances around the house, and we can distribute the potions between us before we climb—”

  “And jump,” Cally reminded him.

  “And jump,” Erdor said through obviously gritted teeth. “And then we’ll probably have only a couple of minutes — maybe less — to make it through the garden and across the forest line.”

  Cally frowned. “Why the forest line?”

  “Because it’s another witch’s territory,” He explained. “She won’t follow us there.” He grimaced. “I hope.”

  “You hope?” Cally hissed, all her goodwill flying out the window.

  He glared back. “Look, do you want to get out or not?”

  Cally clenched her fists and took a deep breath. “Yes,” She said, suppressing the I-had-expected-my-rescuer-to-be-competent.

  “Good,” He said gruffly, then swept a hand over his face, his eyes softening. “Look, I’m sorry,” He said. “I really didn’t mean to explode like that.” He hesitated, guilt flickering through his eyes. “I really am sorry.”

  Cally almost melted at the apology, her own guilt suffusing through her. “No,” She admitted. “I should be the one saying thanks.” She hesitated. “But we should probably get out first before we continue this line of conversation.”

  His smile was even more guilty-looking, but he nodded. “Let’s go,” He said, bundled up the clothes in his amr, and then stepped past the doorline.

  For a moment, as they stared at each other with held breath and nothing happened, Cally was actually a little disappointed. “Huh,” She said. “Not exactly the best alarm system.”

  Erdor, looking annoyed, opened his arms and let the bedsheets fall.

  And then—

  A screeching noise slashed through the air, piercing their heads with the intensity of the darkest of magic, making both of them bend over with grunts of pain. The sound beeped, then repeated itself, and just outside, Cally saw the reflections of lights coming on.

  She forced herself up, chest heaving and eyes tearing up. “Ru–Rulan!” She asaid. “We— we have to hurry?”

  Erdor said nothing, his hands still clamped on his ears. But he jumped straight into action regardless, grabbing the end of the chain of sheets he had brought and quickly trying it to one end of the door, which was far steadier than anything else there.

  Cally followed behind him, wincing as the alarm continued, and through sounds began flickering through the place again; she tugged at the other end of the sheet to confirm the strength. “Good job!” She shouted.

  “Thanks!” Erdor shouted back, already pulling out potions bottles and separating the many into two piles—

  That Cally needed to put somewhere. She closed her eyes, groaning, and then gestured for Erdor to put it back. “I’ll just punch my way out of it,” She said.

  He cocked an eyebrow in her direction, a smile flickering on her face, then did as she asked, even as the alarms rang in their ears and the sun rose higher in the sky.

  “Let’s go!” Cally called, worry snaking its way back into her mind.

  As one, they shot toward the window. Cally snuck out first, hooking her hands around the bedsheet and pivoting outside, her feet roughly slamming against the wall. She jumped, loosened her grip, and then let herself be lowered right up until she was roughly sure she could make the swing.

  It was quieter outside as if the sounds were made only for the manor, though if the forest was another witch’s territory, it made sense why Artesia wouldn’t want to encroach, even with sound. The wind, pleasant and warm and not even the harshest thing she’d ever felt, breezed past her and– and–

  Rulan, she had missed this.

  She beamed, then propelled herself back. It wasn’t enough and she did it again, harder, wider, more. And—

  The tree branch came into view, and she let her arm unwind from the makeshift rope, and then… there! She hooked around the branch and grinned, letting the sheet fall back, hanging limply from the window, where Erdor stood, open-mouthed and horrified.

  “No,” He mouthed as soon as he got control of himself.

  Cally snorted. “Coward,” She called back, though she had no idea if he even heard her.

  Before he could be convinced either way, he turned around and disappeared back inside.

  Cally narrowed her eyes. Was he leaving her alone? Rulan, what a horrible rescue. She had half a mind to complain to whoever had sent Erdor. She ignored the part where she didn’t know, exactly, who that even was.

  Instead, huffing, she started to shimmy down the tree. It wasn’t a tree she was used to, so it took a while, but she managed.

  And then she was on the ground, grinning at her own success, at the escape so close, and at the fact she wouldn’t need to see Artesia again, when the cold, unamused voice stopped her in her stacks, freezing her far faster than even her brother might.

  “Going somewhere, sweetling?” Artesia asked, and Cally slowly, unwittingly turned around, her body limp to her command, her muscles tense with panic and lack of control.

  Cally gasped, her throat constricting.

  Artesia’s hands raised, magic trailing her like a vicious entity, hurt sparking in her eyes in a way that was absolutely unnecessary in Cally’s expert opinion, because why in the world would the kidnapper be hurt that the kidnappee was escaping? That was just stupid! “Again!” The witch snarled. “Again and again! You two are exactly the same!”

  Cally gasped again, willing her hands to reach up and claw at her throat, hating herself for not grabbing one, two, any of the stupid potions that Erdor had offered. Her eyes filled with tears, both at the pain of the situation and the hope that slipped oh-so-seductively past the tips of her fingers.

  “NIGHT!” Someone shouted, and Artesia stilled, magic’s hold on Cally loosening the slightest bit, but enough. Enough for Cally to gasp that bit of air, enough for her to wrench open her eyes, and enough for her to peer out through watery eyes and see Erdor throw a bottle of glittering blue liquid in Artesia’s direction. Enough to see it slam into her, then fall to her feet, shattering, the blue evaporating and engulfing her.

  Cally collapsed, the magic losing hold, and began to cough.

  “Come on!” Erdor snapped, rushing to her side in seconds, pulling her up not unkindly, and pulling her forward, even as, behind them, Artesia shouted in anger, and the blue began to clear.

  As they ran, Erdor used his free hand to pull out another small vial, a bubbling opal this time, glittering in a thousand colors and yet none. He downed it, then took out another exactly like it, and thrust it at Cally. “Camouflage,” He said.

  Erdor had saved her life. And even as she started getting the feeling and the energy back in her body, she nodded and took the potion.

  It was seconds that they gained, Artesia’s magic roaring along with her and encasing the ground right where they might have been had Erdor not changed course and pace in solid ice. But those seconds were also all that they needed and—

  And they were out, breathing hard and hearts racing, as they rushed from the entrance to the road an,d from there, to the forest.

  And as Cally spared one look behind her, she saw Artesia stop at the edge of her land, watching them not seeing them, her lips trembling and her eyes still absolutely, utterly, hurt.

  Cally’s heart panged, but she forced herself to look onward and ran and ran—

  They stopped in a grove of trees, both heaving until they could front a semblance of normality.

  “I– I think we’re safe,” Erdor said finally, straightening and turning to look at her.

  Cally nodded, took a deep breath, and beamed. “We are!” She agreed, and then, in the stupidest possible decision from a mix of riding high on the success of the escape and on the lack of desire to marry a prince she didn’t even know, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  For a second, Erdor seemed surprised and frozen. Heat rushed to Cally's head in embarrassment, and she pulled back immediately, even as she felt his hands start to shift.

  “Sorry,” She said apologetically. “That– was in the heat of the moment.”

  Erdor blinked a few times, still seemingly shell-shocked. “Do you... do that to everyone who helps you?”

  “Why?” Cally immediately responded, unable to stop herself. “Jealous?”

  Erdor just stared, eyebrows rising.

  Cally felt even more embarrassment course through her but shook her head and ignored it. “So, uh, who asked you to rescue me?” She asked. “And how are we getting to the capital?” She scrunched up her nose. “Well, I think we’re still in Argentum.”

  A strange look passed over Erdor’s face, and something about it made Cally step back.

  “No one,” Erdor said simply. “Because I’m not here to rescue you.”

  Cally stared. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “You,” Erdor said, stepping forward and brandishing another of those blue potions that had Artesia all out of sorts just a while back. “Are going to give me the key to the Caves of Belawain. And then you’re going to take me there.”

  Cally’s heart sank. “I wasted my kiss on a second stupid kidnapper?!” She demanded.

  “What?” Erdor said, confused at the reaction.

  “What?” Cally snapped right back, even as she tried to figure a way out of this.

  And then, of course, things had to go from bad to worse, because—

  Darkness.