“The crown is more than a symbol,” she told him. “It is a dread artifact from the first days of blood and betrayal. The first warlock, Penda Blood Coin, forged it with sorcery and sacrifice, passing it down the succession. Jerrod put the last of his Magic into the crown as he fell, making it an heirloom that will bestow its rightful bearer with a power terrible to behold.”

“You mentioned a test,” Padric said, inching away. “That is why Torcan locked me up here? To test me?”

“Only the true heir will leave this tower with the crown,” the girl told him. “All others must go the way of Jerrod.”

Padric felt the slam of the wind and the back of his legs struck something solid. He fumbled for balance and reached out with his hand, finding a stone balustrade. The night sky was all around and panic seized him as he realized where he had been lured. The girl came through the archway and out onto the balcony. The crown was in her hands and she held it out to him.

“Take it Padric,” she said. “Take it if you can. Take it…or fall.”

Padric looked behind him, the horrible yawning darkness of the water so far below, the mind shattering distance of the drop, the long, lonely seconds it would take to reach the unavoidable end. He looked back to where the girl waited and willed himself to reach for the crown, but his arms would not obey. It was not his to possess. He did not want it.

He wanted to fall.

Padric turned. The balustrade was an insignificant barrier. He could hop over it with ease and then there would be nothing. Nothing holding him, nothing between him and death, and once he made the choice there was nothing he could do to stop it. He placed both hands on the balustrade, gripping the stone and gathered himself to jump.

“NO!”

Padric spun and saw Slouch Hat barrel through the archway, slamming into the girl, picking her up, his headlong rush unchecked as they careened over the edge. Padric made a desperate grab and felt the dry crunch of straw fill his palm. Chest pressed into the balustrade, Padric looked over the side and found Slouch Hat’s hand in his, the husk dangling over blackness. Gripping the stone with his other hand, Padric hauled Slouch Hat up, grateful he was not a man of heavy muscle and bone. He pulled the husk over the railing and they slumped down together on the balcony.

“The girl?” Padric managed.

Slouch Hat’s head snapped up and looked hard at Padric, rage crinkling across his inhuman face. The husk stood quickly and looked down at his hand where the crown lay gripped in his fingers. Padric rose, staring in confusion.

Slouch Hat began to laugh.

Not the dry creaking Padric had heard before, but a full triumphant sound, almost breaking with emotion.