Page 97 of Hidden

A lot of power went into building an ordinary way station, let alone one this extravagant. Such magic didn’t run down quietly, like a battery gone dead. Half the time it rebounded like a rubber band.

The vibration beneath Lila’s feet deepened to a shudder. Around the hall, the crowd was growing restless while Elroth seemed to be in deep conversation with one of his counselors. The warriors were fanning out, weapons drawn, intent on keeping order. No doubt they believed the tremor was the way station’s magic adjusting to the loss of its designer. It took experience to know the quality of this disruption signaled something far worse.

Gooseflesh coursed down her arms. Every instinct screamed that the place was about to get very dangerous.

She looked around for her mother’s servants, but the gargoyles were gone. They’d been present when she’d brought her father back to the bench, but had vanished the first time she actually wanted their help.

Fine. No time for irritation, much less a search party. Her family would have to manage on their own.

Lila grabbed Ademar’s arm and gestured to their parents. “Get them to the door. Fast.”

She turned to go, but he caught her sleeve, holding her in place. “Why?”

“I know building spells. Something doesn’t feel right. I’m going to warn the king.”

To his credit, Ademar believed her at once. “I’ll do my part. Good luck.”

She began a sprint across the hall, waving to catch the eye of the warrior in silver mail. But the magic was failing too fast. Halfway there, she stumbled as the polished wood planks of the floor began to lift. Lila fell to her hands and knees, skidding only a few inches before another bit of oak jammed her knees. The floor shook violently. The remaining plates of food slid from the tables and smashed as the furniture rocked.

“Outside!” King Elroth roared, far too late.

A giant crunching, grinding noise sounded from beneath the floor. Lila picked herself up just as tendrils split the boards at her feet. They wormed past the cracks and edges, pale green fingers that thickened and stiffened into twigs, then saplings unfurling a crown of leaves. The forest was reclaiming the way station.

She bounded forward, fully focused on getting out alive. No place was safe to stand on—the whole floor had burst open with untamed growth. The room heaved, rocking the pillars. The remains of her decorations slithered down their fluted surface, crumbling to dust.

She’d almost made it across the hall to the exit when the room exploded. A great tree, almost as wide as the room itself, pounded upward from below. The force flung Lila like chaff.

She landed on her back with enough force to spin her like the hands on a clock.

When she stopped moving, it took a moment for her lungs to work again. She dragged in air in a whooping rush and struggled to sit up. Her first sight was of Farras, his twisted form crouched like a spider about to pounce.

“This is all your fault,” he rasped.

He crawled forward, oblivious to the rolling destruction around them. Lila scuttled backward, frantically searching for the king’s warriors.

Farras gave a nasty grin. “Oh, I gave His Majesty’s brutes the slip. They were far more concerned about his precious head getting a bump once the shaking started. They believe I’m quite harmless now.”

“But you’re not,” Lila said, stalling while she groped for a plan of escape. “You broke every rule about magical constructs. You never anchored this way station. You held onto its magic by yourself, with no help, and now it’s a death trap.”

“A group anchor required that I share my secrets.” He laughed. “Give away my plans for this place. Why would I trust anyone?”

For the barest instant, Lila felt sorry for him. “But now it’s falling apart.”

A chunk of the ceiling crashed just yards away, sending up a plume of dust and debris.

Farras ignored it. “I never create something I’m not prepared to sacrifice, and I never leave my enemies alive. That’s why I always win.”

Snatches of memory stuttered through her brain—the castle in Gilden Wood, the stables, Farras beating his horse. She’d been terrified of Bronkin, the old jester who had chased her through the castle halls. He’d been deranged, but nothing like this. Farras’s eyes held a sheen of fury she’d never seen anywhere before.

Old fear welled up in her, as if her girlhood nightmares had reared from their grave. But she wasn’t a child any longer. Lila summoned her power, remembering the battle spell she’d used on Rafe the night he’d arrived with Izetta.

“No, your reign of terror is over. You’re off the board.” With a cry of satisfaction, she made her shot. An orb of energy flew from her hand, straight into Farras’s chest.

He batted it away as if it were a gnat. Lila’s stomach dropped like a stone.

“You’ve drained your magic already today,” he said with a sneering laugh. “Poor Lila, I bet you tried to save everyone and have nothing left for yourself.”

He picked up a long shard of wood, like the one he’d used on his horse that day in the stables, and stood. Lila seized the opportunity to roll away from him and scramble to her feet. She staggered as the floor pitched again as if a giant creature tunneled under it, pushing up the boards with its spine. She grabbed what she thought was a table leg, but it was stuck in a crack. Fresh roots plunged downward, into the dirt, as the forest called it back home.

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