Chapter 19

"I have a plan."

My voice sounded so different as I spoke those words out loud—or maybe it was just me?

"I have a…a plan," I told Grey's portrait again, then touched his cheek painted on the canvas. "You're alive, and I have a plan." A plan that was most definitely going to get me killed, but it was a plan, nonetheless. That's what mattered, wasn't it?

"I'm going to Mount Agva, Grey," I whispered. "I'm going to find Storm."

My head hurt so much it was threatening to fucking explode with so many unfiltered, unfinished thoughts.

"Yes, yes, I know!" I said to my own self. "I know Storm is insane now and he could be dead—I know that! But he's a dragon, and dragons can go through the fucking mirrors!"

But the buzzing didn't stop. My thoughts turned even louder instead.

"Stop!" I shouted, squeezing my eyes shut and grabbing my hair in my hands, hoping a bit of pain was going to make it easier to focus. But it didn't, because those questions were everywhere, and they showed me exactly how impossible this silly idea of mine was.

How are you even going to find your way? my mind asked me.

You think Romin will just let you leave?

You think Storm won't eat you when he sees you, if he's still alive?

You think Storm doesn't blame you for Grey's banishment when everybody else does—as they should?

And most importantly, even if you somehow manage, how do you think a dragon the size of Storm will fit through that tiny mirror?

I sat on the floor again and I all but pulled my hair out of my skull completely. My mind was so loud, so crowded, and my stomach kept twisting and turning, and my heart wanted to beat right out of me, be free of me for once.

I tried to focus on Grey's face, on the mirror next to the portrait that Mama Si had given me, on the clothes that still smelled like Grey in the closet, on the book that Valentine had written for me, on that pen that I'd enlarged and shrunk just that morning, that was back to its original size now as it lay innocently on the floor next to the book…

All my thoughts crashed and burned all of a sudden.

"Magic."

I reached out and grabbed the pen—perfectly intact, same size as ever, exactly like it had been in Grey's desk where I picked it up.

"With magic," I told my own self as a small smile crept up my lips. "Storm will fit through the mirror with magic."

I'd make him as tiny as I'd made this pen before I left the closet, and Storm would fit through…right? I seemed to remember something I read in Valentine's book. I seemed to remember it hazily.

The pages and letters swam before my eyes when I picked it up and skimmed through everything I hadn't accidentally burned to ashes. Even so, I found what I was looking for right away—with enough magic and enough focus, anything can be shrunk or enlarged to fit the user's needs, be it an object or a living organism.

There it was. Living organism—that was Storm. I could shrink him, and I could take him through the damn mirror, and he could pick up Grey from wherever he was and bring him back to the Whispering Woods.

"Nobody has to know…" I whispered to the portrait. "Nobody has to know, Grey."

We could live on a mountain. We could hide under a rock. We could be anywhere on the Isle, so long as the magic of the curse didn't kill him. I had more than enough blood to feed him. He wouldn't need to go hunting even for animals. We could stay hidden all our lives if we had to.

The whole world was suddenly resting in the palms of my hands. Grey was alive somewhere, strong enough to stand on his own and with his wings spread. He was alive, and Storm could bring him back here again. I had no doubt about it. He'd carry him across worlds in those talons. That, I believed with all my heart.

All I had to do was find him and bring him back here. Shrink him. Take him through the mirror.

And I'd either succeed—or I was going to die trying.

The brides weren'tin the dining room just before lunch, and I went in and walked out with a bag full of food within five minutes. I didn't need much, just things I could carry comfortably in the leather bag I'd found in Grey's closet, things that would give me energy to keep walking without stop until I got to where I was going.

The hallways were empty, too, and so I didn't look around me, didn't bother to check if someone was watching, when I knew Shadow wouldn't be there. He was in Agva now, too, and maybe I'd see him again before he starved himself. Maybe I could even convince him to come back to the castle, to live instead, even if it was without Valentine.

Maybe.

All those thoughts—and my plan—were running through my head so I didn't even feel anything until someone grabbed me from behind and stopped me before I reached the doors to the third tower.

The bag of food dropped from my hand, but I'd zipped it, at least, so the food didn't spill out. The scream that left my lips rang in my ears, and for a moment I was blind with the surprise and the fear and the shock of being grabbed like that so suddenly.

Then Tristian said, "Missed me, Fall?"

Fuck, I was so screwed.

"Let go of me," I spit, then tried to pry his arm from around my waist, but it was impossible. He could have been made out of fucking steel, and all I managed to do was make him hold onto me tighter, press me to his chest until I felt every inch of him against my back.

"Hush now, little Fall," he whispered, bringing his other hand in front of me, fingers wrapped around my neck gently. "Hush. Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

Tears fell from my eyes—angry tears. Desperate tears. "Romin ordered you not to touch me unless I asked. I am asking you to let. Go!" I said, barely drawing in enough air.

But Tristian laughed. "Romin isn't here right now, is he? And you will be asking me to touch you, Fall. As soon as we get to my bed, you will." His lips pressed against the side of my neck where my pulse was going crazy, and he growled.

I screamed.

With every ounce of energy in my body, I screamed at the top of my lungs, so loudly the entire Isle would hear it, and I was sure Romin would, too. I was sure he'd come running from his office to see why, and he'd stop Tristian. He'dmake him let go of me.

Except before the second was over, Tristian put his hand over my mouth and stopped my scream abruptly.

He laughed harder. "Nobody is going to hear you, Fall. Like I said, Romin isn't here. He's out there in town with the people. Emil is with him, too. We're all alone, you and I. Nobody to interrupt—just us."

Oh, God. I thrashed so hard my entire body was in pain, but I didn't care. If he would just let go of me, I didn't give a shit about where it hurt.

But Tristian's grip didn't loosen even a little bit, and my screams came out muffled, and his arm around my waist pulled me to his chest harder.

"Mmm…your scent is different. Is that a new perfume or just magic? Your blood smells so delicious." His tongue was flat against the side of my neck and he licked me all the way to my earlobe. "Oh, we're going to have a good time, you and I, Fall. We're going to have such a good time…"

And he began to drag me back.

Movement caught my eye. Someone was right around the corner somewhere to my right, and I was saved. My God, I was fucking saved because Tristian was a damn liar. We weren't alone in the castle—other people were here, too!

Other brides—like Rachel and Cynthia and Vera, walking together arm in arm before they saw us and stopped. Before they saw me, saw Tristian dragging me back, heard my muffled screams under his hand.

Their eyes were wide and their mouths open, and I thought for sure they were going to say something. I thought for sure they were going to run, to get Tristian off me—or try—and get help. Get Romin to come back if he really was out there, but…

"Carry on, ladies," Tristian said.

The three brides turned around and disappeared around the corner again, back to where they'd been coming from.

My legs let go of me as if my strings had been cut off, but Tristian held me up easily. He whispered under his breath and licked my neck and kissed my skin, and for a moment there, up until he took us down the corridor that would no doubt lead to the fourth tower—his—I couldn't move a single muscle. I couldn't bring myself to even think anything else other than they saw.

Those women saw me being dragged by Tristian, saw me trying to break free, heard my screams behind his hand, and they did nothing. They just turned around and walked away.

My God, Grey had been right. They were all monsters.

And I was not going to let any of them force anything onto me again.

Grey. That's all that mattered now, wasn't it? Grey was alive, standing on his own two feet, and I now knew where. He was in that mirror, and Storm was just a day away, and I had to get to him right now. Not tomorrow, not any other day—right now, before it was too late for Grey. Before he died for real.

Tristian was not going to fucking stop me.

I felt the heat gathering inside me and I stopped struggling, stop trying to scream. What was the point of it, anyway? If someone else heard or saw me, it would be either the brides or the guards or the rest of the staff, and none of them would lift a finger to help me. They'd just walk away like they hadn't seen anything, too.

No, I would not waste any more energy screaming. I'd just focus all of it to this incredible heat that was growing in my stomach because I knew exactly what it was.

Magic. Power. My only weapon. My escape.

I had no idea how to use it other than to do simple basic tasks I'd read about in Valentine's book, but that book also said that magic existed to serve me. Anything I needed, anything I desired, could be mine through it, with the right amount of power and the right amount of focus.

And knowing that Grey was alive gave me more hope and more motivation than I'd had in my whole life, so my focus didn't waver for a second.

"That's it—stop fighting me, sweetheart. I'm going to show you a grand time, I promise. We're almost there," said Tristian as he continued to drag me with such ease, and then doors opened somewhere behind him.

Doors to his tower.

No.

Fuck this, I wasn't going in there. Whatever I had to do to stop him, whatever it was, I'd do it. And so, I did the only thing I could do—I focused on him letting go of me, on him not being able to grab me again, and I unleashed all that heat that was in my stomach toward it. All of it—everything I had, every ounce of energy I poured into that need, into that image.

Stop, stop—STOP!

Everything did.

I saw it happen in slow motion, in detail, and I still couldn't believe my own eyes after. The arm around my waist froze, and the hand over my mouth moved away. Magic shot out of me in waves, like it was radiating from my skin, and I felt all of it as if I could see it in colors.

A groan came from Tristian, and the next second, he let go of me. He actually let go.

I'd never moved so fucking fast in my life.

I ran forward without really seeing anything, and I made it all the way to the opposite wall before my legs threatened to give up on me and I had to stop and hold onto a lamp. The energy that had spilled out of me had taken with it the strength to even stand straight, to move, to run—but I still saw.

I still saw Tristian in front of the open doors to his tower, and he was…deformed.

His bloodshot eyes were on me. His mouth was wide open, and his chin was moving, his lower jaw twisting to the right at such a strange angle—but that wasn't the most disturbing thing about him. His arms had twisted back at the shoulders, and one was getting longer until his knuckles touched the floor, while the other was moving farther and farther back, and he was trying to make a sound but all he managed to do was groan.

I was crying as I watched him slowly changing right in front of my eyes, until he doubled over and didn't even resemble a human being anymore.

And that wasn't all.

I noticed the wall first.

It was turning to dust, like something was eating at it, and it fell to the floor in piles of grey. The doors were groaning and screeching as the metal and wood bent over at strange angles, parts of it missing, parts of it breaking down and falling to the floor—the floor which now had two huge holes in it around Tristian, and one of his elongated legs had slipped inside it.

It was a fucking scene from a horror movie or a nightmare I was stuck in—that's the only thing that made sense. Because no way was this real. Tristian was on the floor, doubled over, his body completely deformed, just like the floor and the walls and the doors around him.

Pieces of wood had appeared on the walls. The metal that had been on the doors was melting right there on the floor and the door handle was hovering in the air, pieces of it falling off right over Tristian's body as he groaned like an animal, no longer moving his limbs…

I ran.

Somehow my legs carried me, and I ran as fast as I could back to the main hall. The leather bag with my food in it was on the floor still. I grabbed it and I charged into the doors of the third tower like my soul would leave my body if I wasn't fast enough.

Only when I was up on the third floor and locked myself in the closet did I stop running. Only when I sat on the other side of Grey's portrait and hugged my knees to my chest and closed my eyes did I stop crying.

Then I just waited for them to come find me and burn me alive.