I wonder if she finished it? He blotted tears from his eyes, recalling what she’d said on their last night together.
I want to live. I want to hear the bells in the temple church in Delphi, ringing out the victory. I want to hike into the Spirit Mountains and speak to witches and faeries. I want to sail over the ocean, all the way to the horizon and beyond. I want to go all those places I’ve never seen, except in books. I want to fly—
He slipped his hand inside his coat, fingering the battered gold pendant she’d given him. It looked like a piece of a mariner’s compass. He remembered what she’d said.
You can give it back to me when I see you again.
When you love someone, that catches the attention of the gods, who punish you.
He walked to the edge and looked out over the city. Where would Jenna’s body have landed, if she’d been thrown from the building by a dragon?
It made no sense that a dragon would kill her. He’d always heard that dragons loved beautiful things.
I should have killed it when I had the chance, but Jenna wanted it freed.
Ash heard a slight sound behind him, like a boot crunching into glass. He began to turn, reaching for his amulet. But it was too late. A hard push between his shoulder blades, and he was falling, over the edge and into space. Desperately, he grabbed at the air, and his hands fastened on a pair of gargoyles—drain spouts on either side of a window. He dangled from the spouts until his toes found a bit of a ledge to dig into.
The wind was howling, and the stone was slippery from the rain. Ash was afraid to move for fear of losing his hold and falling the rest of the way.
He looked up, blinking away rain, to see Gerard Montaigne standing over him. He resembled some avenging spirit in a cautionary tale, silhouetted against the roiling clouds, with his cloak whipping in the wind.
The king knelt, reached down, and yanked Ash’s amulet over his head; the serpent amulet his father had given him. Ash was helpless to stop him.
Montaigne tossed the amulet over his shoulder. Ash heard the clank as it hit the stone floor.
“So, Adam Freeman,” the king said as if he no longer believed in the name. “I see that you are uncollared once more. How could that have happened?”
Ash couldn’t think of any answer that would be helpful, so he said nothing at all.
“I am wondering why it is that, ever since you arrived in Ardenscourt, I’ve had one piece of bad luck after another.”
Ash judged the distance between them. He shifted his feet, seeking more secure footing. With a better base, he might be able to push up and grab the king’s ankles. He’d fall, but he’d take the king with him, and just now that seemed like a worthwhile trade. Especially with Jenna gone.
But if he missed, or lost his grip . . .
When Ash said nothing, the king continued on. “Fires in the kitchen, snakes in my bed, poison in the wassail, and now dragons on the tower. Truly, I am beginning to feel like a target.”
Keep him talking, buy some time to think. “Maybe it’s time to make your peace with the Maker,” Ash said. “To take a close look at your life so far, and—”
“Do not dare to defile the Maker’s name!” Gerard thundered. “You are not worthy!”
. . . but don’t rile him up enough so he ends it now.
Ash hung there silently, as if chastened.
“I was forced to dispose of my beloved Estelle,” Montaigne said, back to icy calm. “I loved her, but once I realized that she had been corrupted, she had to be sacrificed.” He paused, as if gathering his thoughts.
Ash had left most of his arsenal of poisons with the discarded collar. But not everything. Keeping a tight hold on the gargoyle with one hand, he slid the other into the pocket of his cloak, groping until he found what he was looking for—the sting in its leather sheath. Using his teeth, he pulled the sheath away.
“But that is nothing, nothing next to these recent calamities. The thanes were already mutinous, always whining about paying for this holy war against northern witchery. Then Delphi falls to a mob of coal miners, ships explode in the harbor, and a dragon attacks the castle itself. That’s when I knew.”
“That’s when you knew what?” Ash said.
“That’s when I knew that you were responsible.”
“Well,” Ash said, “much as I’d like to take credit for all of that, I can’t see how you think I’m to blame.” Well, maybe for those last two things, but he wasn’t going to bring that up.
“Your name is not Adam Freeman,” Montaigne said, triumphantly, “is it?”
Ash looked up at him. Suddenly, he was eager to face the king of Arden in no other skin than his own. “No,” he said, “it’s not.”
“How long did you think you could fool me?”