Chapter 52

52

Ella

I flopped back against the floor, breathing hard in the pitch-black darkness.

The resistance thought they were going to be martyrs for their people, but they'd doomed us all. Cassius and Aamon were the hand of civilization holding back the bloodthirsty monsters that stalked their court—monsters like Lorayna and Bianca, who cared nothing for our kind. If the prince died and their family came to power, they'd probably kill half the humans in the city out of revenge. Then they'd go slaving in the outer world and find new cattle to fill the empty, blood-splattered homes.

I began working my arms back and forth, but rather than loosen the ropes binding my hands, it only made my wrists raw. I groaned in frustration as doubt hammered away at me. I should have told them about my magic and Siggy. I should have shown them.

But what good was talking to birds and mice and sprouting flowers? Would it have changed anything? They were set on revenge and could see nothing else. They would've locked me up either way.

I eased my head back against the cold stone and tried to gain control of my ragged breathing, stifled by the gag. Suddenly, something scampered up my arm, and I jerked upright with a muffled scream. Pip gave an outraged squeak, and relief flooded through me.

"Sorry ," I mumbled through the rag.

He chittered and hopped down. Hang on.

I closed my eyes against the darkness as my heart swelled. I wasn't on my own. I still had my rat and my magic. The rage and despair that had strangled me were torn away by hope.

A minute later, a scuttling chorus of squeaks rose in the darkness, and a stampede of tiny little clawed feet scampered over me.

Hold still! Pip commanded with an irritated squeak, and I braced myself against the assault of ticklish claws and whiskers brushing my skin. Warm little bodies clustered on my neck and arms, followed by the sound of gnawing. Tiny claws and teeth pulled the wadded gag free from my mouth, and I drew in a gasping breath of the dank cellar air. "Thank you. Thank you all!"

Hold still, we're not finished! Pip chittered at me.

Finally, the ropes parted, and I pulled my numb and tingling arms free. A chorus of distressed squeaks rose from around me as little feet ran across my clothes. Don't squish us!

"I won't." Moving very slowly, I carefully stood and moved to the side of the cellar. I felt around until I found the old, shuttered window and opened it quietly. It was too narrow to squeeze through, but it allowed a little light in.

My saviors huddled in an expectant cluster in the beam of light—four mice and two brawny rats. And Pip.

I knelt beside them and brushed my fingers over the top of Pip's fuzzy head. "My heroes."

Some of us are girls! one of the burly rats squeaked.

"My heroes and heroines ," I whispered, then went over to the sealed cupboard and pulled out a small wheel of cheese, which I laid before the wide-eyed rodents. "I cannot thank you enough."

They tore greedily at the rind before tucking into the golden cheese below. This is a good start , the burly female rat squeaked, her mouth full.

I shook my head with wonder. It wasn't just Pip. I could understand them all. I was getting stronger, or at least more attuned. But how could I use it to get out? Little rats could bite through rope, but unlocking the cellar door was another thing.

Was there a chance Tarran would come by to pick up his wages? Could I get word to him?

I hurried to the far corner of the cellar beneath the kitchen, then closed my eyes and strained my ears. Muffled voices reverberated through the floorboards. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I could place the voices—the butcher, the seamstress, my stepmother, and someone else. They were hurried and agitated.

The arrival of additional conspirators was a bad sign. If I tried to break out now, they'd hear me and probably silence me forever, over my stepmother's objections or not. Clearly, they considered all our lives forfeit after tonight. They wanted to be martyrs.

I crouched in the corner, monitoring the voices and watching the rodents gnawing happily away. It was time for patience and a plan. I had to warn the prince—but I had to do so without getting my stepmother or anyone else killed in the blowback.

More problematically, I had to get into the castle, and he'd taken my token.

Could I get Cara a note? I had no doubt she'd lend me her token to get in, but if I were discovered, it would be the end for her. I couldn't do that to my friend.

I froze as footsteps headed in my direction and rang on the kitchen floorboards above me. "I'll saddle Clorinda and join you outside," my stepmother said.

My stomach leapt. They were leaving.

Footsteps descended the stairs and crunched on the dirt and gravel of the barnyard, moving away. I stood motionless, waiting for more noise from above.

When I was certain they'd all left the house, I peeked through the narrow slit of the window. My stepmother emerged from the barn, leading a saddled Clorinda. She mounted up, and with a sharp jab of her heels, they were off and out of sight.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and leaned back against the wall. Hopefully, all the conspirators had gone with my stepmother, because if they hadn't—well, they were about to get a show.

"Pip," I said, letting in a little more light from the window, "I need you to get Thisbe and the goats. Tell them I'm trapped in here and that I need them to break me out."

Thisbe? Pip squeaked apprehensively.

I scooped him up and held him to the windowsill. "I know she hates me, but tell her my stepmother is in danger and might be killed if I don't do something about it."

I'll see what I can do , he chittered anxiously, then scampered across the barnyard, with his crew not far behind.

At least my stepmother had taken Clorinda. That mare was right wicked.

I waited for what felt like an eternity, but suddenly, there was a crash from the barn, and Thisbe emerged into her pen. The irascible mare took a run, then vaulted the fence in an arcing leap and landed in the middle of the barnyard.

"Thisbe!" I shouted from the cellar.

She walked over slowly, looking around warily.

"Lucille is in trouble. I need to save her and Belle, but I'm trapped in here."

The mare dipped her head to the low window and huffed. Is this a trick?

"No," I insisted with all the earnestness I could muster. "When have I ever lied to you? I know we don't see eye to eye, but this is important."

The goats joined her side, looking around curiously. She sniffed at them, then turned back to me. What do we need to do?

I couldn't keep the triumphant grin from my face. "Kick the cellar door in."

She nickered. Stand back.

The animals moved out of sight, and then the cellar shuddered as three sets of hooves slammed into the door, over and over, sending dust swirling in the air. The pounding blows reverberated through the small cellar like a hammer in a smithy, and I covered my ears. Finally, splinters sprayed through the room as one of the doors ripped off its hinges and crashed down the stairs.

I scrambled out into the bright sunlight, then looked back at the manor house and exhaled slowly. No one had come out. I was in the clear.

I scratched the goats on the head, then wrapped my arms around Thisbe's neck. "Thank you all."

She shook her head and pulled free. We don't do this. We aren't friends. This is about saving Lucille.

I looked up at the sun. It was probably three o'clock, which meant I had four hours of daylight left before sunset and the beginning of the ball. I turned back to the mare and crossed my arms. "You're not going to like this, but if you're serious about saving Lucille, I'm going to need a ride."

She narrowed her eyes and pulled her lips back. Why am I not surprised?