Squirming around in the dirt, we managed to both roll over so we were back to back. Running my fingers over the knot binding Sabine’s wrists to see how it worked, I started picking at the rope. It was harder than I’d imagined it to be, working blind, my numb fingers with their bitten-down nails struggling against the well-tied knot.
Sensing my frustration, Sabine knocked my hands back with hers. “Let me try.”
She worked silently, but there was no missing the shudder in her breath or clammy damp of her fingers. I thought to say something reassuring, but then Catherine passed across the floor above us, her stride full of purpose. Sabine’s fingers froze and I shifted away from her in case the witch decided to check on us. But it was the back door to the shop, not the trapdoor above us, that opened and closed, the bolt turning a second later.
“She’s gone!” Sabine’s voice was shaking.
“Hurry,” I hissed. “We need to catch her!” I was certain she would keep the grimoire on her; it was too dangerous to let out of her sight.
Sabine clawed at the ropes on my hand, letting out an exclamation of triumph when they loosened. Slipping my hands free, I turned on the rope wound about my ankles.
“Go!” Sabine said once I was free. “Catch her! I’ll be fine.”
“No.” There was no way I was leaving my best friend tied up in a cellar. Dropping onto my forearms, I braced her hands with mine, then sank my front teeth into the knot and pulled. My jaw ached with the pressure, but slowly, the knot loosened. Letting go with my teeth, I shoved my finger in the gap that I’d loosened and jerked it free.
“I’ll get my own ankles untied and go warn Chris,” she said, shoving me forward.
Running to the ladder, I leapt up the rungs and flung open the trapdoor. Dodging through the clutter to the front of the shop, I flung open the door and went out into the street. There were plenty of people walking about, but none were Catherine. She couldn’t have gone far. She’d said she needed supplies, which had to mean one of the markets. Snatching my skirts up in one hand, I started running.
* * *
I searched everywhere I could think, ignoring the stares of those curious as to why I was running like a madwoman through the streets, but Catherine was nowhere to be found. Sitting down on the edge of a walkway, I let the realization sink in that it was time to make my choice. Because I had not forgotten what else I’d learned: there was another way to break the curse, but only if I wanted it badly enough.
Twisting the end of my braid into a knot, I put not my mind but my heart to the question – did I want the trolls freed? If so, then I needed to attempt to break Anushka’s will now. If not, I needs must submit to Lord Aiden’s plan and fulfill my promise, if not in spirit, then by the letter, to the troll king and come what may with the results. A hundred thousand times I’d run through the pros and cons, the merits and the costs, and I knew what I was choosing was between a dreadful known and a dreadfully risky unknown.
I knew with painful certainty what would happen if I submitted: the trolls were doomed. But what would happen if I freed them? I wasn’t sure. The cost to human life could be beyond reckoning. Or the good I’d seen in Trollus might triumph, and there would be a chance that we could make everything work. That my friends I trusted so implicitly were strong enough to make things right.
Choose.
Squaring my shoulders, I got to my feet and started toward the city gate.
I would take this leap of faith.
* * *
“How much for the ox?” I asked, pointing to the aging creature in the feedlot outside Trianon. I had the hood of my cloak up, my face shadowed from the afternoon sun.
The proprietor raised an eyebrow and named an exorbitant price.
“That’s outrageous,” I muttered. “The creature won’t live another year.”
He shrugged. “It’s what the meat is worth.”
I chewed on the insides of my cheeks, knowing I didn’t have that amount of coin on me and that I didn’t have the time to procure it. Reluctantly, I unclasped my necklace from my neck and held it aloft – it was time I ceased wearing it anyway. All it symbolized was death.
“It’s gold,” I said. “Take it, and you’ll be ahead in the bargain.”
The man had played this game long enough to know not to react, but there was no mistaking the covetous way he watched the necklace swing from my hand. “Let me see it.”
I dropped the piece of jewelry into his palm. He judged the weight, bit the metal, and nodded.
Jerking my chin toward an ax embedded in a block of wood, I said, “I want that included, and a lantern as well.”
Both eyebrows went up at that, but he only nodded. I’d given him enough gold to excuse me from answering questions.
* * *