Page 110 of Drawn in Blood
The woman smiled and nodded toward the back of the shop. Rowan and Ember followed her into an office in the back, and she swiftly locked the door and flipped on the lights.
“Torin was a dear friend,” she said. “We worked together during his time here. He’s the reason I came to Torsvik.” She shuffled through drawers and stacks of paper and pulled out a small, folded parchment, holding it to her chest. “He was a great leader. We thought we could stop them,” she continued, “or at least slow them down. He gave me this before he left, asked me to keep it safe until he could come back. It seems he made sure he came back, one way or another.” Elowyn handed her the folded piece of paper, and Ember furrowed her brow as she opened it.
“What is it?” she asked. It looked like a roughly drawn maze, just a bunch of lines with no rhyme or reason to the direction they went.
“He never said,” Elowyn shook her head, “but I imagine you’ll figure it out.”
Ember sighed as she nodded, clutching the parchment in her hands. The girls paid for the dresses, and Elowyn assured them that they would be delivered before the night of the ball. Rowan and Ember walked out of the shop with more questions nowthan answers, and worry was clouding every corner of Ember’s mind.
“What are we supposed to do with this,” Rowan asked, as she scrunched her nose, snatching the paper from Ember and turning it in the air as she studied it. “What was your father doing?”
Ember shrugged. “Maybe he was going to come back and finish it, whateveritis,” she replied, anger beginning to heat her cheeks. If he was here, he could fix this. If he was here, she wouldn’t feel quite so lost.
Ember sprawled on her bed,books scattered around her as she and Rowan passed the parchment between each other, studying it and looking at references, ultimately becoming so frustrated that they tossed it across the room. Theo was on the floor reading quietly to himself, a history book about Torsvik open in front of him. He giggled as Rowan threw herself back on the mattress, hand on her forehead as she sighed.
Loudly.
“This is pointless,” she moaned. “We should be focusing on figuring out how to get the children out of the dungeons, not trying to decipher this chicken scratch.” She pointed to the parchment she had haphazardly tossed to the floor.
Ember shot her a glare, and she promptly snapped her mouth shut. Theo gently picked up the paper from the carpet, smoothing the edges as he laid it in front of him, studying it. He ran his fingers over the lines like he was memorizing it.
“We need a plan B.” Ember turned to Rowan and popped a grape in her mouth.
Gaelen had brought them a platter of snacks when they had returned home from town, and she was forever thankful for the Merrow and the kindness she continued to show her. She briefly thought about the cape stuffed in her bag—Gaelen was trapped here just as much as she was.
“If we can’t get the children out of the castle, we need a plan B.”
“We could steal a boat,” Rowan shrugged, as she stared at the ceiling, “then find a way to shatter the wards around the beach.”
“I don’t think these are standard wards.” Ember shook her head as she sighed. “I don’t think it’ll be that easy.”
Theo stood up from the floor, carrying the parchment and the book he was reading with him, and dropped them both onto the bed between the girls.
Ember furrowed her brow.“What did you find?”
Theo pointed at the parchment, then at a picture of Torsvik, an old map that labeled every restaurant and butcher, every florist and fishmonger, every street and?—
Ember gasped.
She laid the parchment over the page of the book, touching the paper, and began to mumble.
“Sýndu mér leyndarmál þín.”
She didn’t know what she said—what it even meant—but the words rattled in her bones, echoing through her veins as the fire beneath her skin burned. The page became translucent, all except for the markings her father had drawn. She rotated the page a few times, lining up the marking with the map below it, and gasped.
“What was that?” Rowan asked, eyes wide.
“It’s a map,” she whispered.
Rowan furrowed her brow. “Not what I meant.” But Ember ignored her, eyes glued to the page. Rowan sighed. “Of course it’s a map,” she replied, talking about the book.
“No, no, no.” Ember shook her head as she turned the page and book toward Rowan. “These lines he drew, they all line up with the roads going through Torsvik. And these right here,” she pointed to the squares spread across the piece of paper, “these line up with buildings. Look.” She pointed to the map again, and each square lined up perfectly over a business or home. “I’m willing to bet that all of those buildings have crows carved into the frame too.”
“Okay,” Rowan nodded, “so your dad drew a map of the roads in Torsvik And the houses with the crow. How does that help us?”
Ember shook her head, chewing on the edge of her lip. Memories from her first day out in Torsvik flitted through her mind. Empty mineshafts dotting the hills, cellar doors with locks and hinges nearly rusted off. Ember’s eyes widened as she looked to her friend.
“What if it’s not the roads?” she whispered. “What if there's something under it?”
