Her escape route was somewhere on the western edge of the city, but she had no clue which way was north or south, or how many streets she had come down, or what Finnegan’s “drunken fairy” could possibly be. She was utterly lost. But she could not go back.
“Ah, there you are, girl.” A guard, so wide-shouldered that he filled the whole alley, walked slowly toward her, sword raised. His face glistened with sweat, and the blade was stained red. “Come with me, now,” he said. “There’ll be a valuable reward for me when you’re safe back home.”
She raised the dagger. It shook in her hand, and he chuckled. “Come on, now,” he said. “We’ll have none of that.” Aurora stepped backward, but she had nowhere to go. “Now drop it. Drop it!”
They stared at each other. Then the guard gasped, just once, eyes bulging. His face turned red. His hair began to smoke. And then his skin cracked and crumbled, contorting into dust.
The sword rang as it hit the cobbles, and Celestine stepped into the alley, her face thin and pallid like a skull. Her lips bled. Clumps of blonde hair fell onto her shoulders and around her feet, but her eyes burned like shards of ice.
“What . . . Did you do that?” It can’t have been me, Aurora thought, taking another stumbling step backward. Please don’t let it have been me.
“Stupid girl,” Celestine said. Her voice cracked. “Are you ready to come with me now? I can help you, you know.”
“I don’t want your help.”
“It seemed to me that you needed it a moment ago.” Celestine coughed, a hacking, rasping sound. “Give me a little of your magic then. I saved your life. Give me a little, and this debt shall be settled, at least.” Celestine grabbed Aurora’s wrist with bony fingers. The other hand tugged at her hair, tangling in the flowers and knots. “You’re burning with it,” she said. “Every inch of you, burning up. I never imagined you would have such strength.” She ran her thumbnail down Aurora’s cheek. “Just a taste of it. I saved your life, and now I’ll let you go.” She leaned close, her breath hot on Aurora’s skin. She smelled like rot and ashes. “Just give me this. I saved you.”
Aurora flinched away. The energy welled up inside her again, the hate. It slammed out of her, and fire scorched the air. Celestine jerked aside. Her fingers were still caught in Aurora’s hair, so Aurora’s head jerked forward as well. The muscles in the back of her neck snapped.
Celestine’s grip tightened. She shoved her face in front of Aurora’s. Their noses almost touched.
“Don’t try me, girl,” she said. “I may be weak, but I could still make you burn in an instant if I wanted. Right now, you are nothing without me. So don’t underestimate me, like your dear mother did. It won’t end well for either of us.”
Aurora did not dare to move. “You knew my mother?”
“Yes.” Celestine smiled, ever so slightly. “I did. She was so like you. So willful, and so unwilling to accept when she was beaten.” That did not sound like the mother Aurora had known at all. She continued to stare at Celestine, not saying a word. “Give me a little of your magic,” Celestine said. “Repay me for saving your life, and I will tell you how I know her. There is so much I could tell you.”
Aurora swallowed. “And if I do,” she said, “you will leave me alone?”
“For now,” Celestine said. “If you wish.”
She had to know. Even if Celestine lied to her . . . she had to know. “All right,” Aurora said. “Do it.”
Celestine’s fingers curled like talons. She slashed her nails across Aurora’s cheek, slicing into her skin. Before Aurora could react, Celestine pressed her fingers over the scratches, her nails digging into the wounds. Heat spread along the lines, building and building, a hand reaching through Aurora’s veins, snatching and squeezing at her chest. A jolt ran through Aurora, and she retched.
“There.” Celestine released her, and already her voice sounded warmer. “Thank you.”
Aurora continued to gag, her arm against the wall to hold herself steady. “I did what you asked,” she said. “Tell me how you knew my mother.”
“Why, she came to me. Like you will come to me one day. Crying and desperate. Begging me for help. For who is more hated than a foreign queen who cannot have a child?”
Aurora swayed with the effort to keep upright. “You’re lying.”
“Do you still wish to believe that?” Celestine said. “I never lie. She came to me. She pleaded for my magic. She wanted the only thing that could save her, the only thing that would make people support her again. She tried to betray me, of course, as I knew she would. She had the choice to follow our agreement. But she did not. And so we have you.”
“You cursed me to punish my mother?”
“I cursed you because I need you,” she said. “Because of what you are. You chose to prick your finger, as your mother chose to betray me. You chose to bring yourself here. And so I know that you will join me, in the end.” She turned to look down the alley. “Listen to those screams, Aurora. The city is burning. People are dying, because of you. If you had left with me when I offered, they would still be alive.”
Aurora shook her head. “That’s not true,” she said. But it was.
“It is a familiar story, Aurora. Fleeing the city, fleeing their control, determined to be so very good. They will beat it out of you in the end. They will wear you down until all that is left is bitterness. Until you are just like me.”
“No,” she said. “I could never be like you.”
“You are exactly like me. That is your curse, you see. Not true love, not sleeping the years away. Those were all just threads to bring you here, to this moment. If you fail to help these people, they will destroy you. And if you show them how powerful you really are . . . they will destroy you for that too. Your curse is that you cannot help but choose me. The only question is how much you burn along the way.”
“I would rather burn everything than work with you.”
Celestine’s fingers brushed Aurora’s neck, leaving spots of blood. “That is a pretty necklace you’re wearing,” she said. “A gift from the prince of Vanhelm, perhaps?” She ran one finger along the chain. “I can understand the allure. I also have a fascination with dragons.” She slid back, smiling. “We will see each other soon, I know. Tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now, when everything is crumbling around you . . . you will wish you had accepted my offer. Until then—good luck, my dear.”
Her footsteps faded away. Aurora stood still, barely daring to breathe. Celestine did not return.
She could hear panic in the streets, people shouting and screaming, weapons clashing together. She could not stay here, but her legs shuddered under her weight, and her head felt hot and clammy, like she had been struck with a sudden bout of the flu. Her mother had made a deal with the witch.
But Celestine could not be trusted. She was only trying to trick Aurora, to bewitch her. Nothing she said could be believed.
Footsteps passed the entrance of the alley. She flattened herself against the wall, but the person did not stop.
She had to leave. Now.
She stared at the pile of crates. Tristan had said it was possible to get halfway around the city on the roofs. High up out of sight. Could she get out that way as well? The crates looked rotten, unstable, but if she was careful . . . Her heart pounding in the back of her throat, dagger tight in her left fist, she hoisted herself up. Her skirt caught on a splinter, and she ripped it free. The wood creaked and buckled beneath her feet, but it did not break. And then she was on the roof.
People below were running, jostling, fighting. Guards hurried in every direction. Swords clashed. In the sky, she could see the sun, creeping toward noon. Turning her back to it, she hurried west. She would have to trust Finnegan’s word one more time.