“Yes, Your Highness.” She swallows hard. “I was going to look for flowers, climbing over the wall. And then . . . and then I heard . . .”

“Espiritu.”

She nods.

“We have killed him, Lupita. He’ll never hurt anyone again.”

“He leaped onto the wall, and I was so scared. I jumped down and started to run. Then there were men in the woods. Perditos. I didn’t know where I was going. I just ran and ran until I came here.”

I marvel that this small child made the same drop that injured my ankle. “It’s all right. Do you remember Lord Zito?”

“The man with the funny voice?”

“He’s the one who brought me here. He is running back to the castle for help.”

“I hope he is a very fast runner,” she says. She gestures for me to come see, and I drag myself toward the opening.

The rising sun has revealed a small meadow between the cliffs and the jungle below. It holds a camp—the remains of a fire and some scattered supplies.

“They hid here last night, when the soldiers were searching. I wanted to sneak past them, but—”

“You were smart not to try. But no one is down there now.”

She gasps and melts back into the shadow of the cave.

Men with faces painted black emerge from the trees. Bones from their anklets rattle as they walk. They wear clothes hacked from poorly tanned hides, and their hair hangs in clumps. Perditos.

But they are not alone.

A tall, thin man with long white hair and a supple cloak accompanies the bandits. The staff he carries bears a glowing jewel in an iron cage at its tip.

An Invierno. Not just an Invierno, but an animagus, one of their powerful sorcerers.

Behind him come two more Perditos, dragging someone else, and my heart is in my throat even before my mind makes sense of the scene.

They have captured my steward. He hangs limp between them, and blood drips from a gash on his forehead. Oh, Zito.

No rescue is forthcoming. It will be up to me to save us all.

Chapter 9

9

“LUPITA, you must help me,” I say. “I need you to bind up my ankle as tight as possible.”

“How?” she whispers.

I start untying the stays on either side of my stiff leather vest. “With this. Here, help me get it off.”

Her fingers are more nimble than mine, and her hands shake less. In a few moments, we have it off and the two pieces separated. The front piece is shaped oddly, the rawhide sculpted to my curves, but it has a little more flexibility than the back.

Outside, the Perditos argue loudly. I feel a desperate need to hurry, even if I don’t know my next step.