Winton nodded his agreement. “I don’t pretend to understand, but I promise not to interfere.” He glanced across at Lena, meeting her eyes properly for the first time since she had ruined his mother’s Descent. Pain flashed in his expression, but he smiled kindly. “Come, let’s go.”

Lena took a few steps forward but hesitated on the edge of the staircase. It led into a darkness so deep it swam before her eyes. She hadn’t ventured into the crypts since that day when the Duchess had grabbed her arm with hard, white fingers. She shivered. She was an outcast; she had prayed to a foreign god, accepted his presence for a time. But now—she rested her hand over her heart, where the spell lay—now she belonged to no one. Was that better or worse? Would the Ancestors hate her, or would they be indifferent?

“Hurry,” said Constance sharply from behind. “We haven’t got much time.”

Lena began to make her way slowly down the steps. Noises emanated from below—even more horrific than the sounds of fighting and death they were leaving behind—shuffles, the chink of old metal, and hisses like whispers. Lena swore she heard hurried footsteps somewhere in the warren of the tunnels. Cryptlings? Morticians? She hoped so. She wondered what had happened to those trapped down there when the Ancestors had started to stir. Had they been able to escape? Halfway down she stopped again. Her palms prickled with sweat. Exactly how deep is this terrible mountain? How many Ancestors sleep here? Even as a cryptling, she had never truly found out. There were passages that had long been abandoned, Ancestors forgotten. Where would Constance take her?

What was she doing?

“We have nowhere else to go, Lena.” Constance was standing very close to her, blocking the route back up the staircase, and Lena was painfully aware of her height, of the power emanating from the glowing cane. “Don’t you want to save our people? Don’t you want to save our home?”

“It’ll be all right,” said Winton softly from the step below. “Once the spell is gone, the people of Duke’s Forest will be saved, and you will be richly rewarded. Right, Constance?”

Constance gave a slight, nearly imperceptible nod.

A scream of terror rang out somewhere outside—the desperate “Please, please!” of a woman. Were the people of Duke’s Forest truly her people? They had abandoned her to the dead. This didn’t feel like her home—it never had.

But the spell … She had a terrible feeling about this—about all of it. But if she didn’t go with Constance now, she would never know what she might be capable of. Lena took a deep breath and continued to descend.

The butterfly slipped out of her pocket.