by M. A. Larson
Think, Evie, think . . .
“We found her straightaway. She was sitting on the King’s throne. He didn’t mind since he’d done a runner long before she came. She smiled when we came in, I remember that. Like she was welcoming old friends.” Another chilling giggle escaped her. “Then our advance team . . .” She shook her head, unable to comprehend what had gone so wrong.
Could this mortar be scraped away? thought Evie. We’ve got the spoon. It would take ages, but perhaps we could carve enough of a hole . . . to what? To jump?
“They were obliterated. Where our friends had been standing, there were only statues and memories.”
Evie glanced around again. Table. Books. Rug. Smoke vents. Torches. Rats. Spinning wheel . . .
Her eyes snapped back to the rats. They hadn’t been there a moment ago. There were two of them, sleek brown things with pink tails, dining on Falada’s scraps.
“Christa was so calm. So brave. She knew how scared we were, but she wouldn’t let it take over our hearts. She helped us win the day. No . . . she won the day.”
Evie couldn’t take her eyes off the rats. Their whiskers bobbed as they sniffed each other. “Princess,” she said. “Did you say you know how to talk to animals?”
“Of course. Soon, you will, too.”
Evie lowered herself gingerly to the floor. She knelt in front of Falada and looked straight into her eyes. “You can communicate with those rats? And they’ll listen to you?”
“They’re the only ones I’ve had to talk to for years. And Mother, of course.”
“I have an idea about how we can get out of here.”
“It won’t work,” said Falada.
“You haven’t even heard it yet.”
“You want to send the rats down to bring back help. It won’t work. They won’t go near anyone who isn’t a princess. The cooks have made them terrified of everyone else. And besides, my father will kill any princess who tries to enter the gates.”
“Not every princess. There’s one down there right now,” said Evie.
Demetra’s eyes shot open. “Of course! Evie, that’s brilliant!”
Falada started to breathe heavily. Her eyes darted between Evie and Demetra. “Please don’t give me false hope. Getting out of this tower is impossible.”
“Hope is never false,” said Evie. “And all sorts of impossible things are true.”
Falada stared into her eyes. As hope crept in, a look of physical pain came over her. “What would you like me to tell them?”
Evie moved back and sat next to Demetra to give space to Falada and the rats. “Tell them to look for a boy named Basil.” Falada glanced at her in confusion. “It’s a long story, but he’s every bit the princess Demetra and I are, trust me.”
“It’s true. Basil has more courage and heart than even he knows,” added Demetra.
“All right,” said Falada, nodding slowly. “Then what?”
“He should be in bed by now. Tell them to get right up next to his face. I don’t want to do anything more than whisper.”
Now it was Demetra who looked confused. Evie, meanwhile, pulled a thread loose from the battered rug. Then she unclasped her neckband, tied the thread around it, and handed it to Falada. “Tell them to—”
Falada gasped and recoiled from the neckband, which fell to the floor. “How did you do that?”
“My voice, it’s in there,” mouthed Evie, her words coming from the jewelry on the floor. “If the rats can get my voice close enough, I can tell Basil where we are.”
Falada inched forward and picked up the neckband. She inspected it with wonder. Then she turned to the rats, who looked up at her expectantly. “Good evening, sirs,” she said. To Evie and Demetra’s astonishment, they squeaked back to her. “Do you suppose you might do something for me? There’s a princess in the castle called Basil. I would be ever so grateful if you might bring this neckband to him.” She paused, and the rats looked at each other.
Demetra’s face broke into a smile as she watched them chatter back and forth. “So cute!” she whispered.
Finally, one of them squeaked something to Falada. “You will? Oh, thank you!”
“Thank you very much indeed!” said Demetra. The rats looked at her blankly.
“They can’t understand you,” said Falada. “To them, you just sound like a strange animal making strange noises.”
“Oh,” said Demetra, disappointed.
Falada leaned forward and offered the thread to the rats. One of them grabbed it with tiny pink fingers. It put the thread in its mouth and ran across the room to the door, the neckband dragging behind. One of the rats slipped beneath the gap under the door. The other helped push the neckband through, then followed. Falada turned to Evie and Demetra with a proud smile.
“They’re such helpful young gentlemen, aren’t they?”
Demetra didn’t speak and Evie couldn’t, so Falada sat and crossed her legs, her spine straight. Evie grabbed the wall and pulled herself to her feet. Her strength had started to return. She peered up at the smoke vents in the ceiling. The tower walls appeared to be about three feet thick from the inside of the vent to the open air. The small sliver of sky she could see was black and starless.
“The rats will find him. Don’t worry about that,” said Falada. “They know this castle better than the men who built it.”
Evie’s head was once again swirling. She couldn’t tell if it was from the poison, the heat, or if she was still reeling from being locked in the tower.
“Here,” said Falada, handing her the cup. “Drink and rest.”
Evie emptied the cup and laid her head on the floor. Her cheeks felt hot, her head thick with pressure. She stared up at the ceiling for several minutes. Rain tapped against the stone outside the smoke vents. Thunder continued to rumble in the distance.
“I’m not going to let them get away with this,” said Demetra, staring at the class portrait in her hands. Her voice was suddenly as stern as Evie had ever heard it. “They’ve got the whole world twisted round, and I’ve had enough. Your father didn’t do this to you out of cruelty, Falada. He did it out of fear.”
“What?” Falada’s wide eyes reflected the torchlight. “My father isn’t afraid. He’s never been afraid.”
“He is. I’ve seen people do all sorts of mad things because they’re scared of witches. And it isn’t your fault that he let his fear win. It really isn’t. It was wrong of him to put you up here.”
“But he did it for—”
“There is no reason. There’s no excuse for letting fear win.”
Falada blinked. Tears welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks, but her stunned expression never changed.
“I’ve had enough. I’m not going to be afraid anymore. They want to come after my mother?” Evie tilted her head to look at her friend. It was dark and her face was in shadow, but she could still see the fire in Demetra’s tear-soaked eyes. “I’ve been piddling about for two years at the Academy, doing enough to get by and nothing more. Well, those days are over. When Basil gets us out of here, I am going to rain fire on those witches.” She looked up and met Falada’s eyes. “And so are you.” Neither Evie nor Falada spoke. “Go on, Evie, it’s time. We’ve got work to do.”
Evie struggled to push herself up. Her head was still throbbing, but the water had helped calm her stomach.
“Ready?” said Demetra.
Evie nodded. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. It was impossible to know where the rats had gone, whether they’d made it to Basil or not, but she had no choice but to try. Her lips began to move and nothing came out. It was a surreal feeling. Her vocal cords vibrated in her throat—she could feel it—but there was no sound. Come up the tower, Basil. We need you. They’ve locked us up. You’ve got to get us out of here. She said it a few more times, then stopped. Then waited. There wa
s a slight whistle as the wind washed over the smoke vents in the ceiling, but other than that, there was only a close, thick silence in the cell. Evie breathed long, deep breaths. Please hurry, she said. We’re locked in the tower. They waited. And waited. Each random chink or drip that echoed up the spiral stairs outside the door gave them hope, but each was followed by more silence. They waited some more.
“It’s all right,” whispered Falada. “It’s not so bad up here. You can still see the snow in the winter.” Demetra and Evie sat silently, their ears trained on the door. “Mother brings Christmas pudding as well—”
“Shh!” said Demetra. “There’s someone out there!”
Evie listened but couldn’t hear anything. Then, distantly, only as an echo, she heard the soft patter of footsteps. They became more distinct as they continued up the tower. Then they stopped.
Evie held her breath. The tension in the room threatened to choke them all. Basil? Is that you? she said.
“Yes, it’s me!” he hissed from down the staircase, his voice punctuated with huffing and puffing. “Don’t rush me. It’s a bloody long way up there!”
Hurry!
His footsteps started again as he spiraled closer and closer to the top. Falada stood. Her face was a mask of terror.
“Don’t be afraid,” said Demetra softly. “He’s a friend. We really are going to get you out of here, all right?”
“No, please,” said Falada, and her tears began to fall. “Hope is too cruel. Please.”
The footsteps stopped just outside. “Right,” said Basil. “There appears to be a door here.”
“Hurry, Basil!” said Evie. She jumped when she heard herself muffled just outside. Her voice was free while the rest of her was locked up.
“Basil, they’ll put you in here with us if they catch you,” said Demetra. “You’ve got to get the door open.”
“Right,” he said. “Let’s see.” They heard scraping and metallic chinks as he tried to negotiate the locks. “You won’t believe what just happened. These two rats just came into my room and climbed onto my face—”
“Basil!” Evie’s voice echoed down the spiral staircase.
There was a bit more scraping, then the sounds of him trying to force the lock open by jerking on it. “There’s a rather large lock here.”
“You’ve got to break it!” said Demetra.
“With what?”
“I don’t know, but you’ve got to do it quickly!”
“There’s a hearth in my bedchamber,” he said. “It’s such a lovely room. Beautifully appointed. You just ring for some wood and they—”
“Basil!”
“Right, sorry. There are some implements there I could use. The poker would work quite nicely.”
“No!” said Evie.
“Stop talking, Evie!” said Basil. “You’re scaring me half to death.”
Evie scowled and pointed urgently to Demetra. “You can’t go back down!” she said. “There isn’t time!”
“I’ve got no choice. There’s nothing here for me to use. I’ll be right back!” His footsteps began to recede down the staircase.
“Basil! Stop!” But he was gone. And so they began to wait again. Only this time, the tension was almost unbearable. And Falada wept the entire time, whispering about false hope.
“I can’t take it,” said Demetra. “Motivate him, Evie.”
Evie’s lips began to move, and for once she was happy she couldn’t hear what she was saying. She wasn’t being particularly nice to Basil. A few moments later, they heard his distant footsteps, followed by his panicked gasping for air. “Was that entirely necessary?” he said crossly.
“I’m sorry,” said Evie’s voice outside the door, “but this is life or death.”
“Is he going to be all right?” asked Falada as Basil gasped and wheezed.
“Everyone stand back!” he said.
“Stand back?” said Evie. “Basil, you’ve got to do this quietly—”
Crack! A hard, metallic strike echoed down the staircase.
“Basil, be quiet!” said Demetra. Crack! “Basil!” Crack!
“Look, do you want to get out of there or not?”
Evie began to pace. He was beating the fireplace poker against the lock like a drum. Crack! Crack! Crack! The whole kingdom might have been awakened by now.
Finally, there was a thud on the floor. The lock had come free. “Basil?” said Demetra. She went to the door, but it didn’t move.
Clang! She jumped back. Clang!
“Basil, what are you doing?”
“I got the big one!” he shouted.
“Shh!”
There was one more great clang before the iron poker hit the door. Wood splintered and cracked.
“He’s not the most graceful of princesses, is he?” said Falada with annoyance.
“Basil, can you be a bit quieter?” called Evie, but even she couldn’t hear her own voice over the rending of wood. “Basil!”
Finally, he stopped, gasping for breath.
“Ba—”
Thud! He rammed his shoulder into the door. Thud! Thud! Thud! Evie threw her hands up in frustration. Outside, another piece of iron clattered down the staircase.
“The whole bloody Glade will be awake by now,” said Demetra.
Just then, the door burst open. There stood Basil, red-faced and proud. But his smile fell the moment he saw Falada. From his look of horror, it seemed as though he thought Death himself was standing in the tower with Evie and Demetra.
“Oh, uh . . . hello,” he said, trying unsuccessfully to disguise his revulsion.
“This is Princess Falada, the King’s daughter.”
“Hello, Princess,” said Falada with a slight bow of her head.
“Uh, hello yourself, Princess,” Basil returned. Then he handed Evie her neckband. “Your voice. Perhaps you can use it to apologize for those things you said to me.”
“If you haven’t gotten us killed, I will.”
• • •
Evie’s nerves were tight. She expected guardsmen to appear at every turn with axes and swords and chains and ropes and a thousand new locks to bar the tower door forever. But so far that had not happened. Nothing had happened except a dizzying whirl down the stone staircase to where the air was cool and still. It seemed Basil’s thunderous rescue might not have echoed all the way down the tower after all.
Around and around they went through the impenetrable dark. Falada had convinced them that they could escape without a torch, and without the possibility of accidental discovery that came with it. So Evie ran her hands along the circular walls to keep her balance. The haze of the poison had mostly cleared, but now she was becoming dizzy from the descent. Basil and Demetra were somewhere behind her.
“Slowly,” said Falada in a hushed tone. “We’re nearly there.”
Evie couldn’t see a thing and didn’t know how Falada could, either. Perhaps it was some princess trick she’d learned at the Academy, or maybe it was the deeply entrenched memory of a childhood spent climbing the tower. Regardless, Evie began to slow as Falada did, and the next thing she knew a door was being cracked in front of her.
“This’ll take us to the kitchens. Unless they’ve rearranged the entire castle.” She chuckle-snorted. Evie could almost feel Basil’s incredulous stare. “Once we’re through, we’ll need to go upstairs. The guest chambers are down the right side of the hall.”
“She’s right,” said Basil, his face red and blotchy from two full sprints up and down the tower. “That’s where my room is. You must come and see this fireplace—”
Evie put her finger to her lips to shush him. Falada eased the door open. Torchlight poured through in a wedge of flickering orange. On the other side was a corridor of gray stone bricks. Sconces lined the walls. There were no other adornments. This was
a servants’ hallway, as Falada had said, where kitchen workers and service staff did the castle’s unseen business. Thankfully, it was empty.
They hurried down the corridor. After about fifty feet, it began to slope upward. Crisp night air washed over their flushed cheeks as they emerged into a small room filled with wooden tables and racks of serving utensils. This was some sort of preparatory room, where servants could make last-minute adjustments to the presentation of the food before serving it. And several of the windows were cracked open.
“The air feels like magic,” said Falada, closing her eyes and letting it wash over her. “My skin is alive.”
“It won’t be if they catch us,” whispered Evie.
“Right.” Falada opened her eyes and focused. “There’ll be guards in the hall, but it’s the only way. We’ve got to be quiet as rats.” She scrunched her nose and mouth into a rat face, then turned and disappeared into the next room.
“She’s bonkers,” said Basil.
“She’s brilliant,” said Demetra.
The three of them hurried after Falada. They were now in the dining hall where Evie’s and Demetra’s lunches had been poisoned. The table had been cleared and cleaned, all packed away and tidied. It’s like we were never here, thought Evie. No one was ever meant to find us. With a shiver, she crept up the stairs and followed Falada into the hall. They stayed close to the wall, sneaking past the glimmering suits of armor, until they made it to the grand staircase. Rain rattled against the stained glass window at the landing. Falada turned to the others, pointing to the corridor that branched off to the right, and that’s when her face fell.
“Who goes there?” came a voice.
Before Evie could see who it was, Basil shoved all three of them behind one of the armor displays. Evie’s shoulder slammed into the plinth. She had to bite her lip to keep from shouting.
“Hiya,” said Basil loudly.
“Oh, it’s you,” came the reply. It was a man’s voice, grumbly and stern. “You oughtn’t be about without a candleholder in the night hours, sir.”
“Guards,” whispered Falada. “I think that’s Patric.”
