“My, my, what a pickle you’re in, my dear,” Tohon said. He lounged next to me on a huge canopy bed, wearing only his black silk pajama pants. “Trying to save the world, again?”

“I thought I banished you,” I grumbled.

“You thought wrong.” He patted the space next to him, inviting me closer.

“Not even in your dreams, Tohon.”

He tsked. “Nasty. Kerrick’s influence, no doubt. That man really needs to die. He’s been...so close.” Tohon sighed. “At least he’s not here to disturb us, my dear.”

I ignored him.

He laughed. “And you left poor Ryne to deal with all the nasties to save one girl.”

“We’re going to rescue them all,” I shot back.

“Now who’s being overconfident?” He linked his hands together and rested them on his chest. “You might as well just stay here, my dear. It’ll be safer.”

Unable to resist, I asked, “Why?”

“The Skeleton King wants to taste you, Cellina wants to tear you apart, and Ryne wants to chain you to the infirmary. Here they just want you to pray.”

“I don’t believe in the creator.”

“Then pray to me, my dear.”

* * *

When I woke the next morning, no brilliant ideas had struck me while I slept. However, if desperate, I could point Melina out to Odd and have him take her to the crypt on a trumped-up infraction. If I could find her. But that plan felt wrong. Maybe Odd would have an idea.

I lingered behind at breakfast, letting the others file out. Odd signaled me and this one I knew. All set?

I shook my head. He scowled.

When the room emptied, he fisted the collar of my robe and pushed me against the wall. “What’s going on?” His voice hissed in my ear.

“Change of plans.”

“Time’s short. She’s close.”

Only one she—Estrid. I told him what I hoped to do. “We can’t leave them.”

“You. Are. Insane.”

“They’ve been training. We just need weapons.”

“You need to reconnect with reality. It’s impossible.”

“Use the sleeping powder I gave you on the guards.” I knew that container I swiped would come in handy.

“It won’t take them all out.”

“Better than none. We have to try.”

He groaned. “When?”

“After supper before we’re locked up for the night.”

“Give me a couple days.”

“Do we have a couple days?”

“It’ll be tight. I’ll signal you at breakfast when we’re set. Make sure the women are ready.”

“I will.”

* * *

As I knelt and stared at the stained-glass ceiling, I planned how we’d incapacitate the tower guards. An all-out riot wouldn’t work—too noisy. Better to have small units striking at the same time. Half-forgotten memories of conversations between Ryne and his officers flared to life. Ryne had stressed the three key elements in a successful attack were surprise, speed, and intensity.