Danielle dried her hands on her shirt and stood.
“Watch your manners,” Talia said.
“What does it matter?” Charlotte grabbed a sheet and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was still shivering. “If you don’t kill me, Stacia will.”
“Lift the curse on Danielle, and maybe we’ll keep you alive,” said Talia.
“Stacia and Rose cast it, not me. Only a kiss of true love could break it now.”
“So get Armand down here,” said Talia.
Charlotte gave a tired, bitter laugh. “He doesn’t love her.”
Talia glared at Charlotte. “Princess Danielle obviously obeys you. So command her to obey her own wishes.”
Charlotte shook her head. “I’d be commanding her to break the curse. I’m not strong enough to do that.”
Talia studied Charlotte’s bedraggled appearance. “Witchcraft and treachery aren’t working out so well for you, are they?”
Charlotte glared, but said nothing.
Talia rested the blade of the sword on her shoulder. “What about you, Danielle? Do you know of any other way to break this spell?”
Danielle tried, but she couldn’t speak. The questions had to come from Charlotte or Stacia. With a sigh, Talia jabbed the sword in Charlotte’s direction and said, “Tell her to answer me.”
Charlotte waved one hand. “Oh, go on.”
“Only by killing Stacia,” said Danielle. “If we break the curse on Armand, he could kiss me and end the spell. But he’s with Stacia and the Duchess.”
“So either we fight our way up the Duchess’ tower to kill your stepsister and save your prince, or else we find someone else who truly loves you.” Talia glanced at Charlotte and snorted. “I won’t bother asking you to plant one on your stepsister’s cheek. So I suppose there’s only one thing left to do.”
Before Charlotte could respond, Talia turned on her heel. The glass sword flicked out at Danielle’s face.
At first, Danielle thought Talia had missed. Then her cheek began to sting. A line of blood trickled down the side of her face.
“You said the sword wouldn’t hurt me!” Danielle said indignantly. She froze, realizing what she had just done. She touched her cheek, marveling as her arm obeyed her will.
“So, are you free?” Talia asked.
Danielle went to the bed and reached beneath the pillow, pulling out a half-full bottle of wine.
“How did you know about that?” Charlotte demanded.
“I’m the one who spends hours working the wine stains from your clothes,” Danielle said. “I fluff your pillows, change your sheets, and dust your room. I also polish the tin flask you keep hidden in the back of your trunk, and I clean the algae off the bottle in the back of the pool.”
Danielle upended the bottle over Charlotte’s bed, watching the crimson puddle soak into the sheets and mattress. She waited, but nothing compelled her to clean up the mess. Nothing more than her own need for tidiness, at any rate. “How—?”
“Don’t you remember what I taught you, back in the queen’s labyrinth?” Talia spun the sword, offering the hilt to Danielle. “The lightest kiss of steel is all you need. Or glass, in this case.”
Danielle took the sword with both hands.
“That sword was a gift from your mother,” Talia said. “When she first died, her spirit stayed behind in the hazel tree so she could watch over you. When your stepsisters summoned the Chirka demon, she trapped it within herself to protect you.” Talia’s voice was distant, almost sad. “Love doesn’t get much truer than that.”
“She’s still here, isn’t she?” Danielle whispered. “In the sword.”
“A part of her.” Talia nodded. “Otherwise you’d still be cursed, and likely missing some fingers from that clumsy catch outside the cave.”
Danielle couldn’t stop herself. She wrapped her arms around Talia and squeezed.
“Watch it,” Talia said. “You’re going to cut someone’s arm off, waving that thing about.”
“You really think I could hit you with a sword?” Danielle asked.
“In your dreams, Princess.” Talia sighed and hugged Danielle back.
Movement near the door made Danielle break away. “Oh, no.”
Danielle knelt and set the sword on the floor. The tailless rat raised his head and sniffed. Most of the fur around his head and front paws was burned away, and the skin was red and blistered.
Her eyes watered as she cupped the rat in her palm.
“What is it?” Talia asked.
“He saved me.” Just like the dove back at the palace, the first time Charlotte had tried to kill her. And like the dove, the rat had paid with his life. He was old and dying, and there was nothing she could do.
“It’s a rat,” said Charlotte.
“Take her pillow,” Danielle said. “We can at least make him comfortable.”
“What?” Charlotte grabbed her pillow with both hands. “You’re not putting that filthy thing on my—”
Talia grabbed Charlotte’s arm and twisted. She plucked the pillow from Charlotte’s fingers, then shoved. Charlotte staggered toward the wall, one foot splashing into the pool before she recovered her balance.
Danielle set the rat in the middle of the pillow. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure he could even hear her anymore, as badly blistered as his face was. “Thank you for saving my son.”
“What would you like to do about her?” Talia asked, pointing a thumb at Charlotte. “Want me to finish what you started?”
Charlotte’s good eye widened. “Danielle, I tried to help you. I warned you not to come, remember? I warned you again, back in the cave, but you wouldn’t listen. I tried—”
“You tried to keep me away so you could have Armand to yourself.” Danielle picked up her sword. “You tried to murder me. You tried to murder my son.”
Charlotte tried to back into the corner and nearly stepped on one of the fish. “Your life was so perfect. All I wanted was that same happiness.”
“That’s because you never learned to find your own,” Danielle said. She turned to Talia. “Can you tie her up so she can’t escape?”
Talia rubbed her hands together. “It would be a pleasure, Your Highness.”
They used Danielle’s sword to slice the sheets into strips, which Talia braided into ropes. By the time Talia finished, Charlotte could barely breathe, let alone escape. Charlotte lay on the bed, stretched diagonally across the mattress. Ropes bound her at the ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows. Another loop of rope secured her wrists to one bedpost, while her ankles were tied to the opposite post. Finally, Talia looped a gag around Charlotte’s mouth.
“At least it’s one of the wine-soaked scraps,” Talia said. “Suck on that while you wait for someone to find you.”
Danielle used the remaining rope to tie her sword on.
“What now?” asked Danielle. “There are darklings in the hallway. They’ll be on us before we can go. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she stared at Talia. “How did you get in here without anyone catching you? I never even heard the door open.”
“Doors are too conspicuous.” Talia reached into her shirt and pulled out a black and white leather pouch.
“That’s Ambassador Trittibar’s,” Danielle said. “Trittibar is here? He’s helping you?”
“Not exactly.” Talia shrugged. “I thought that shrinking magic of his might come in handy, so I nicked his pouch before we left the palace. There are only a few spores left. Hopefully, it will be enough for us to reach Snow without being seen.”
“You stole from the ambassador? After everything he did for us? Talia!”
Talia grabbed the wine bottle from the floor where it had fallen. Little more than a swallow remained in the bottom. Talia gulped it down, then grimaced. “Tastes like dirt.” She tossed the bottle into the pool.
“Would you like to yell at me, or would you rather save Snow?”
“Snow. But when we get home, you’re apologizing to Trittibar.” She studied Talia more closely. “I don’t suppose you brought something we can use to wake Snow?”
Talia ignored the question and ran her hand along the wall. “The stone behind the wallboards is pretty rough. Plenty of room to squeeze about. Do you know where they’re keeping her?”
“The common room near the end of the hall,” said Danielle.
“Guarded?”
“Only the darklings in the hall. The common room is usually empty.”
“Good.” Talia leaned over Charlotte. “A strong, healthy woman could probably squirm free by the end of the night. For you, I imagine it will take at least a day.”
She turned away. “Let’s get going.”
“Wait. What about—” Danielle looked at the rat and realized there was no point. The pillow around his head was a mix of soot and watery blood. The rough, spastic breathing had stopped. She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Never mind.”
“Over here,” Talia said, leading Danielle toward the rathole by the pool. She handed one of the spores to Danielle.
Danielle touched the spore to her tongue. Moments later, she and Talia were squeezing into the darkness past the pool. Talia glanced back and shook her head.
“What’s wrong?” Danielle asked.
“Charlotte. When I was younger, I would have killed her to make sure she didn’t follow.” Talia sighed. “I think you’re rubbing off on me, Princess.”
The space between the wallboards and the rough-carved rock was cramped and filthy. Gravel and dust littered the ground, along with rat droppings, the empty shells of insects, and a healthy crop of mildew. The wooden planks of the wall were unsanded on this side. Splinters pricked at Danielle’s clothes as she fought her way past a cobweb. “How did you find me?”
“Rode a rat,” said Talia. “Nearly stabbed the thing in the eye before I realized it was there to help. I assume it’s a friend of yours.”
She reached back to help Danielle past a rock the size of a grown man’s thumb. At their current size, it might as well have been a boulder.
“Even so, it took several days to sneak up here from the water. This is not an easy place to infiltrate. Whoever designed it knew what they were doing.” Admiration warmed Talia’s words. “I don’t suppose you can call up anything more substantial than a rat? Maybe a team of manticores?”
“Sorry.” From the sound of trickling water, they were directly beneath the pipe which circulated water into the fish pool. “Talia, what happened after you fell into the river? How did you break Stacia’s spell?”
“Your aviar dragged me out. I assume I have you to thank for that. I finally managed to pull myself onto her back. I clung for dear life and told her to take me back to the pixies.”
“They helped you?”
“Not exactly. Arlorran was gone, and the pixies were pretty mad when I told them what had happened to the other two aviars.”
“Were they—?”
“Midnight and Socks were both alive the last I knew, but neither one was up for flying. The pixies sent a group back to get them. I don’t know if they survived.” Talia sighed. “I headed for the road, but it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. I’d have been lucky to make it a quarter of a mile without twisting my ankle or wrenching a knee. So . . . I asked for a guide.”
Danielle grinned. “Don’t you know you’re never supposed to ask for a guide in Fairytown?”
Talia stopped walking. A tall wooden beam blocked their way. “Yeah, well, it worked. I met up with a strange little girl who had a duck’s bill instead of a mouth. Don’t ask. She removed the curse, and here I am.” She rapped the beam. “This is where we’ll need help, Princess. If you could call a few hearty rats, we’ll be on our way.”
“What aren’t you telling me, Talia?”
“What do you mean?” Faint light penetrated the rathole behind them, but Talia was barely more than a shadow.
“You’re the one who told me fairies never do anything for free,” said Danielle. “What did you give that girl in exchange for her help?”
“Nothing important. Come on.”
Her nonchalance only confirmed the worry in Danielle’s gut. “Tell me.”
“Princess, we don’t have time for this.”
“You can’t reach Snow without my help.” Danielle waited.
“Without your rats’ help, you mean,” Talia muttered.
Danielle didn’t answer.
“She wanted what they all want,” Talia snapped. “My unborn child.”
Danielle felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed her lungs. “You didn’t—”
“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you,” said Talia. “I knew you’d overreact, especially given your current condition. Don’t worry about it, Princess. Just conjure up some rats and let’s get going.”
“But you’re not pregnant.” Danielle’s eyes widened. “Are you?”
“Not hardly. But fairies think about things in the long term. That’s why they outbargain humans nine times out of ten.”
“I’m sorry,” Danielle whispered, touching her own stomach.