Page 167 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“I brought you a present, Ymer the Indefatigable!” I toss the chicken to him.

He grabs it eagerly, using his fingernails to slice through the kerchiefs. “Ymer is very hungry,” he says by way of thanks. Did his hand shake as he lifted one delicate rib to his giant mouth? “Small elf nice to Ymer.”

Suddenly, I feel terrible for this troll. He really is hungry, and everyone is making him the enemy. He is just as much a victim of the Wood’s shifting borders as many of us.

Though hecouldchoose to leave if he wasn’t so stubborn.

My concern evaporates.Mostly. I urge Bartholomew into a gallop and Ymer waves happily as we go and calls, “Ymer will repay!”

I keep my hood low as I find the right Path. As I step one foot onto it, my vision flickers with vibrant skies and glowing stars.That’s the one. Together, Bartholomew and I plunge onward.

The Star City is more beautiful than I could have imagined. The sky is a deep violet, hung with large, low stars and a sliver of a crescent moon. The city is vast, full of slender spires of intricate architecture that seem so tall they reach the moon. I stand at the edge of Caphryl Wood, looking down into the city. There are paved roads lined with beautiful glowing lights. It makes the entire city look like a valley full of stars.

But I have no time to gawk at the beauty. I have three targets to find.

After tying Bartholomew, giving her a few carrots, and applying one last dose to her hooves in case we must make a fast escape, I follow the scrawled instructions Tailor gave me the last time I was at Nothril, diving into the depths of the city on foot. I move fast and avoid the many lights.

At last, I reach the palace. Tailor’s directions take me to a servant’s entrance. The meeting place is a boiler room, usually checked only once an hour at this time of day. Smoke and heat blast me the second I open the door. The only light comes from the glow of coals and flames licking fresh wood in the furnace.

No one is here.

I yank the scrap of paper out of my pocket, straining my eyes to read it again, retracing my steps in my head. No, I’m in the right place. So why is no one here? Did Tailor not reach them? Do I need to go find them?

I wait a few more minutes, bouncing on the balls of my feet, sweat pouring down my face and back. I’m going to have to use extraolleato combat the strength of my own scent now.

It is supposed to be a young boy and girl, and an adult woman. Even when I poke my head back into the hallway, there is not even a single approaching footstep.

Rahk is always fast on my trail. I cannot stay here much longer.

The door creaks open. I whirl.

A woman, with drooping almond eyes and a mane of thick, curly black hair, slips inside. She startles slightly at the sight of me with my mask and cloak.

“There you are!” I whisper. “Where are the others? A boy and a girl?”

“Jack and Mavis?” the woman asks. “I have not seen them all day.”

She trembles in the darkness, her arms wrapped around her middle. She glances at the door every two or three seconds.

“Have you seen the Tailor?” I hiss. “Where is he?”

She shivers. “I saw him a few hours ago. He said everything was proceeding as planned.”

I curse inwardly and pace two more lengths of the small, scalding room. Then I turn to the woman once more. “I need you to get to the edge of the city. I don’t want anything happening to you if we are delayed. Can you see Paths in the Wood?”

Firelight catches on unshed tears. She shakes her head.

I purse my lips. She is going to fall to pieces if I show too much of my own anxiety. “That is fine,” I say as calmly as I can. “If you can just get to the edge of the city, to the road that leads into the Wood, you will be safe. I will come get you as quickly as I can, and we will leave. Take this and smear it on the bottoms of your shoes.” I show her how, using my second to last drop. Then I hand the bottle to her.

She places the last drop ofolleaon her shoes. I try not to panic that my source is gone. I try not to let the tightness in my chest cut off my air as I wonder how I am going to get the last two targets out while Rahk is invariably right behind me.

We part ways, her to leave the palace, me to dive deeper into it.

These servants’ hallways are well lit, to my dismay. I am just about to remove my mask and hood to give the illusion that I am not, in fact, breaking into a fae palace, when a shadow rounds the corner ahead of me. I glance around frantically for a place to hide. Nothing.

A small boy rounds the corner, only around nine years old. He must be the boy—Jack. His round little eyes go even rounder when he sees me. “Are you the Ivy Mask?”

“Yes!” I bend down to his level, and my heart could break that one so young would be a slave. Did he end up here because he was at Caphryl Wood’s edge when the border expanded? “What’s the matter? Are you Jack?”

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