“That’s not a no, then. You could do it,” he said. Scarlet shut her mouth and he drifted a pinch closer, studying the face he had dreamt of for too many seasons. “They will say vile, cruel, untrue things, I imagine. It’s up to you, Scarlet. Fetch the drum and leave with me, and I’ll hide you in the cracks of the globe for the remainder of your timestring. Or stay with them—” he nodded toward the dining room, “—but aren’t you tired of caring what they think?” His burgundy eyes traced the speckles of light burning through the slats of the door and spotting her cheek, reminding him of a time when she had scars there.

A single, silver tear tumbled down the canvas of her skin, and he reached to brush it away.

“I’ll try to fetch your drum.” Her voice was rough, but it was stars, sunlight, and music to Cane’s ears.

Noises erupted in the hallway—palace slippers slapping tile, and silver spears clattering. Cane found Scarlet’s arm and he tugged her the way opposite. “Run! To the end of the tunnel!” he whispered, nudging her ahead. “I’ll distract them. And Scarlet…”

Her silhouette went still in the darkness. Cane realized he had no words. But he smiled, hoping that would say enough. A mere tug appeared at the edge of Scarlet’s mouth.

THE TWELFTH

THE TWELFTH

I spun. Fingers and claws pushed me right and left; low growls and high shrieks stung my ears. I tried to grapple onto a solid picture, a solid floor, a solid anything, as lights flashed in my vision. I saw faces. Webs of ice and iron trapped those faces in cold cages where groups huddled together.

My feet slammed a stone floor and the smoke vanished.

I could hear my own loud breathing in my ears. Other noises trickled in; snarls and whimpers. The cages sharpened in my view.

Gnomes rattled the spokes, releasing growling laughs and scratching at the ice with grey fingers. The potent scent of damp soil and rotting hope was familiar, and so were the low cries of the fallen Carriers of Truth that leaked up from the ground, mixed with the horrid, crazed laughter of the witch who would never leave me alone.

I’d been in these dark tunnels before. I’d drank Mara Rouge’s poison in these tunnels. Wren Stallone had died in these tunnels, along with dozens of Carriers before my time.

The Dungeon of Souls was laced with a chalky haze. Through it, I saw throngs of people trapped down here, and I had a sinking feeling as I realized who these people were.