It hurt her heart just to think of him. He had stood in her shadow for years, serving her whims, taking her abuse, trapped in a prison of feelings he could never reveal. Twice he had nearly died for her. He was a good man—a great man. She wanted to make him happy. He deserved to be happy. She wanted to give him what he never thought possible, to fix what she had broken.

For three nights they had hid together, and every day Hil-fred had tried to convince her to return to Melengar. At last she had agreed, telling him they would leave the next day. Arista had slipped out when Hilfred went to get supplies. If all went well, she would be back before he returned and they could leave as planned. If not—if something happened—the note would explain.

It had occurred to her, only the night before, that she had never cast the location spell in the courtyard. From there, the smoke would certainly locate the wing, and if lucky enough, she might even pinpoint Gaunt’s window. The information would be invaluable to Royce and Hadrian and could mean the difference between a rescue and a suicide mission. And as much as she did not want to admit it, she owed Esrahaddon as well. If doing this small thing could save Degan Gaunt, a good man wrongly imprisoned; ease the wizard’s passing; and vanquish her guilt, it would be worth the risk.

The gate guards paid little attention when she had entered. She took this as a good sign that no one had connected Ella the scrub girl to the Witch of Melengar. All she needed to do now was cast the spell and walk out again.

She crossed the inner ward to the vegetable garden. The harvest had come and gone, the plants were cleared, and the soil had been turned to await the spring. The soft earth would allow her to draw the circle and symbols required. She clutched the pouch of hair still in the pocket of her kirtle as she glanced around. Nothing looked amiss. The few guards on duty ignored her.

As casually as she could, she began drawing a circle by dragging her foot in the dirt. When she had finished, she moved on to the more tedious task of the runes, which was more time-consuming to do with her toe than with her hand and a bit of chalk. All the while, she worried that her drawing would be obvious from any number of upper-story windows.