“We puzzled out the riddle together,” Hyacinthe says with a frown at Gwen. “Now let’s go.”
“But—” I start.
“I’ll take her,” he says. “The mortal girl. I will get her out of here, and that creature, too. Just get up.”
I ought to do that. But his words seem to come from far away as I reach for the magic again, and this time when it tries to draw me into it, I pull it into me instead. I let it drag me under. I take the whole curse in a rush.
Everything stops. No air is in my lungs. There is a pain in my chest, as though my heart cannot beat. As though something inside me is cracking. As though I am going to come apart.
I concentrate on the curse. On wrestling that sticky, grasping enchantment and quashing it down until it is a solid thing, heavy and cold. And then I press it further, into nothing.
When I open my eyes, my ragged nails are digging into the skin of Hyacinthe’s arm. His arm, which is no longer feathered, no longer a wing. He is on his knees, still. I am trembling all over, so light-headed that I can barely remember where I am.
“You did it. You broke the curse. My lady, I swear fealty to you.” His words take a moment to sink in, and when they do, horror sweeps over me. “To you and you alone. I was wrong to doubt.”
“No,” I manage to choke out.
I do not want that responsibility. I have seen what power does to people. And I have seen how those who pledge loyalty come to resent those oaths and wish for the destruction of the one who holds them. I was never less free than when I ruled.
“I am your servant forevermore,” he says, heedless, pressing his dry lips to the back of my hand. His dark brown hair falls forward in a curtain, brushing my arm like silk. “Obedient to your command.”
I shake my head, but the vow is made. And I’m too tired to even be able to explain why that worries me. My mind feels too adrift.
I look up at the three prisoners I freed and am suddenly, acutely aware of how much trouble I made. I didn’t realize how much I have changed from that terrified girl, forever looking for a place to hide in the Court of Teeth. Breaking spells on mortals has made me rebellious.
And for a moment, I am viciously glad. It doesn’t feel good exactly, to be in danger, but it does feel good to be the cause of events rather than being swept along into them.
“Take off your shoes,” I tell the girl, my voice rasping worse than ever.
She looks down at her sneakers. “What for?”
I give her a commanding look, and she toes them off.
I push myself up, trying to remember my half a plan. Hyacinthe grabs my arm as I sway, and my pride urges me to snap at him, but I am too grateful.
“So that your steps will be quiet,” I explain. “You three can fit behind the water trough. It’s dark, and if you crouch down, you won’t be seen.”
Hyacinthe pauses. “And you?”
I shake my head. “I said I wasn’t coming. I’ll keep the guards busy. Can you find your way out from here?”
He nods, briefly. He’s a soldier, hopefully trained for situations not totally unlike this. Then he frowns. “If you stay behind, you will be in great danger,” he tells me.
“I’m not going,” I say.
“He won’t forgive you for this.”
If Oak discovers what I’ve done, Hyacinthe is probably right. But I still have to face Lady Nore or she will hunt me down. Nothing about this changes that.
“You swore to me,” I remind him, although his words echo my fears. “Moments ago. What I ask is for you to get yourself and Gwen out of the Court of Moths alive. And get the merrow to the sea cave. It’s on the way.”
“Send me north, to Lady Nore, then,” Hyacinthe tells me, almost whispering. “Should you make it there, at least you’ll have an ally.”
“And that is why you ought not dramatically vow to obey someone,” I say, a growl in my voice. “They seldom ask for what you hope they will.”
“I know about faeries and bargains,” Gwen says to me, foolishly. “You’re going to ask something from me, too, right?”
I look her over. I hadn’t planned on asking for anything, but that was unwise. She probably has little on her, but her clothes and sneakers would allow me to pass into the mortal world more easily, if I had to do so. And there are other things. “Do you have a phone?”
Gwen appears surprised. “I thought you would ask for a year of my life, or a cherished memory, or my voice.”
What would I do with any of that? “Would you prefer to give me a year of your life?”
“I guess not.” Gwen reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone, along with a plug-in charger she detaches from a key chain. “There’s no reception here.”
“When you and Hyacinthe get to safety, let me know,” I say, taking it. The metal-and-glass object is light in my hand. I haven’t held one in a long time.
“I was going to call my boyfriend,” she tells me. “Once, he picked up, and I could hear their music in the background. If he calls—”
“I’ll tell him to get out,” I say. “Now hide, and when they come in, you leave.”
Hyacinthe gives me a speaking look as he guides the mortal toward the darkness.
It is the merrow that takes my hand. “Lady of the land,” he says, voice even raspier than mine, skin chilly. “The only gift I have to give you is knowledge. There is a war coming in the waves. The Queen of the Undersea has grown weak, and her child is weaker. When there comes blood in the water, the land would be well served to stay away. Cirien-Cròin is coming.”
Then he lurches toward the water barrel.
And at his warning, I walk to the copper-banded door and turn the knob. I still feel wobbly and breathless, as though I have cast off a long fever. No breaking of a curse ever felt like this before, and it frightens me.
But the bauchan and the rose-haired knight on the other side scare me even more. At the sight of me, she reaches for her sword, which I note she retrieved. I hope that means that Jack of the Lakes dropped it and not that he was caught.
“How did you—” the bauchan begins.
I cut them off with the firmest voice I can summon. “The cursed soldier—the prince’s prisoner—he’s not in his cell!” Which is true enough, since I let him out.
“That doesn’t explain what you’re doing where you’re not supposed to be,” the rose-haired knight says.
“When I came, there was no one guarding the entrance,” I say, letting that accusation hang in the air.
The rose-haired knight strides past me impatiently, a blush coloring her cheeks. She stalks to the end of the prison where Hyacinthe ought to be. I follow, carefully keeping my gaze from the shadows.
“Well?” I say, hand on my hip.
The panic in their eyes tells me that Queen Annet has earned her reputation for brutality honestly.
“The girl,” the rose-haired knight says, realizing the human is gone, too.
“And the spy from the Undersea.” The bauchan speaks a word to open the merrow’s cell, then walks around it. Letting all the prisoners out has confused their suppositions about what happened, at least.
“You saw nothing?” the rose-haired knight asks.