“Why?” the voice asked. “Why are you worthy?”

Merk wracked his brain, thinking, desperate to say the right thing.

“I am worthy because I am a fearless warrior. Because I am loyal. Because I want to join your ranks and help your cause. I am worthy because I want to protect the tower and protect the sword. I am worthy because I am a better killer than anyone here. Let me in and allow me to prove it to you.”

The eyes stared back for a long time, and Merk stood there, heart pounding, feeling certain he had answered correctly and that the man would let him in.

But to his shock and disappointment, the slot slammed closed as quickly as it had opened, and he heard footsteps walking away. He could not believe it. He was crestfallen.

Merk stared back at the silver doors, shaken. It couldn’t be possible.

“No!” Merk cried in anguish. “You must let me in!”

Merk slammed on the door again and again, wondering what he had done wrong.

Why was he worthy?

Merk pondered what worthiness meant. What did it really mean to be worthy? Was anyone really worthy? Who could even determine that?

Merk, torn up inside, turned his back on the tower. Without this place, without this chance at a new start in life, he could not imagine any other life for himself, any other place to go.

Merk strutted across the plateau, burning with frustration, until he reached the edge of the cliff. He stood there, looking down at the crashing of the great waves beneath him and suddenly, in a bout of frustration, he hurled his dagger, his most precious possession, his only means of slamming on those doors.

He watched as it tumbled down over the cliff, falling hundreds of feet below into the sea, disappearing in a great crashing of waves.

He leaned back and shrieked a cry of agony, of loneliness. It rose to the heavens, echoed by a lonely seagull, and disappeared into the next crashing wave, as if mocking him, as if letting him know that, no matter what he did, he would never be allowed into the Tower of Ur.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Kyra clutched her horse’s mane as they galloped through Whitewood, the wind in her hair, two girls seated on the horse behind her, and surrounded by the girls she and Dierdre had freed, all of them riding, Leo at their heels. Kyra felt a great sense of satisfaction as she saw all of their faces, so thrilled to be free, so thrilled to be alive. She had rescued them from a dark future, and that meant more than anything to them.