Volusian disappeared and returned about a minute later. “The Oak King says that in light of the current situation, he imagines you might be more open to such suggestions. He said—and I quote—‘Daring escapes do wonders for passion. What would ordinarily be deemed presumptuous might actually seem quite reasonable in troubled times. Perhaps the blight wouldn’t have been so cold, had we come to that conclusion sooner.’”

I scoffed. “Well, tell him that remains to be seen, seeing as we haven’t pulled off any daring escape yet.”

Volusian hesitated. “Mistress, I have never asked anything of you in my servitude. But now, I beg you this: do not make me keep passing these adolescent sentiments back and forth all night.”

“Fair enough,” I said, feeling a smile start to return. “Go ahead and tell Dorian that too. This is the last note you pass tonight. I need some sleep, and it takes too much power to keep you here.”

Volusian didn’t thank me—that would be asking too much—but he did look relieved. He vanished into the darkness and didn’t come back that night.

I tried to sleep in earnest, knowing I’d need my strength for whatever wacky mishaps were to come. That’s easier said than done in enemy hands—especially for an insomniac like me—and I tossed and turned a fair amount. Sleep did finally come after a couple of hours, mercifully free of dreams. I didn’t wake until something pulled at my hair. At first, I shrugged it off in my sleepy state. Then, it happened again, a tug so painful I yelped and opened my eyes.

And found Spots the falcon staring at me, about two inches from my face.

“Jesus Christ!” I jumped up, certain my eyes were about to be pecked out. “Couldn’t you just squawk from the window? Or tap the wall with your beak?”

Spots made no reply, save to preen his wing.

“I assume you’re here for a reason,” I said. “But you probably can’t tell me.”

He looked back up at me and extended a leg. Peering closely, I saw a teeny-tiny roll of paper tied there. Carefully, unsure if he’d decide to gouge me with his claws, I removed the miniature scroll from his leg. The paper was very fine and delicate, and I was half afraid it would tear before I could unroll it. When I finally got a good look at it, I could see a handful of words scrawled in tiny writing:

ROOM IS UNDERGROUND. SCOUT IS INVESTIGATING.

Cryptic but promising overall, I decided. I was about to give the bird a return message when I suddenly heard the lock being opened on my door.

“Get out of here!” I told Spots. “Come back ... er, later.”