“I’ll see you in the morning.”

“In the morning I think I’m going to be learning how to cut off a man’s head. I doubt very much that I’ll want an audience.”

• • •

I’d been planning to talk a few things over with Grim. The odd neatness of the old tale. The fact that it had been uncovered at the only time any of us would have a chance to break the curse. The visit to Ana’s cottage and the way it had disturbed me. The question of Lily, who was supposed to live long enough to see her lover freed. That one was tugging at my mind. I couldn’t discuss it with anyone but Grim.

But when I got to our chamber Grim wasn’t there. He’d gone over to the guards’ quarters, to talk weapons with Onchú and the others, I assumed. I made a brew—usually a reliable method of bringing back whichever of us was missing—but he did not make an appearance. I sat over the fire awhile, thinking. The tower . . . the creature that was really a young man, a very young man named Ash . . . the unfortunate Lily, who must have given up on her sweetheart and married someone else, or that family line would have died out and Geiléis would not be here . . . The nature of happy endings, and whether such a phenomenon truly existed . . . The small fey king trapped within the thorny hedge, and his folk bound to serve and hold their tongues . . . One, at least, had broken that vow to seek Grim’s aid and to provide help in his turn. And while the little healer had not spoken to me, she had most certainly conveyed a message. They were brave folk, those small ones; brave and patient. How odd that Geiléis had known nothing at all of them.

I was falling asleep where I sat, and there was still no sign of Grim. Perhaps they’d given him a bed over in the guards’ quarters; it was a fair walk back. Though he found it hard to sleep unless I was close by. Well, he’d have to deal with that particular problem, because pretty soon I wouldn’t be here any longer. He must have managed somehow in the time before he found himself in Mathuin’s lockup. He would manage again.

I went to bed and fell asleep almost instantly. I did not wake until the sun rose and the voice of the sad being in the tower made slumber no longer possible. Grim’s bed had not been slept in, but as I went outside to the privy he came into the yard, looking wide-awake and very serious. “Make sure you have a good breakfast,” he said. “Going to be a busy day.” I saw, then, the ax in his hand, a weapon that to my inexpert eye looked rather on the small side for the intended purpose. The blade glinted in the morning light; I guessed the cutting edges were lethally sharp. There was some kind of carving on the handle. My appetite for breakfast vanished.