A second later I was shooting toward the ceiling. A scrape and a bump, and I was through to my waist, but then my hips caught on the rock. I bit back a yelp. Another tug from Nat, and a wriggle from me, and I popped through, legs and all—into rocky darkness.
“Almost there.” Nat’s hands slid from my wrists to my fingers. He pulled me around the corner, into a larger cavern where flickers of distant green light allowed us to see each other. His jaw was bruised and his sleeve was torn, but he was in one piece, and there was elation and heat in the look he gave me. I swallowed hard. As awful as the situation was, it was good—incredibly good—to be beside him, to feel the warmth of him, and to have him look at me that way again.
“Nat?”
He touched a finger to my lips. I felt as if I were melting.
“We have to hurry,” he said softly. “The guards say they’ll lead us to safety, but there’s not much time.”
“Where are they?”
“Close by, but it’s a bit of a maze getting there. I’ve got it clear in my head, though.”
I could believe it. As long as I’d known him, he’d had a gift for navigating labyrinthine spaces. Which was just as well, under the circumstances. Even in the faint light, I could see at least half a dozen dark holes here, all leading to who knew where.
Yet still I hesitated. “These guards—are you sure you trust them?”
“What other choice do we have?”
He was right. We had to try. I let him lead me into one of the dark holes.
A few feet in, he stopped. “I forgot.”
“Forgot what?”
“The stone—Pressina can track you with it.”
“Track me?”
“Yes. The guards told me. They said you should take it off as soon as you could, so she won’t know where you are.”
I looked up at him. Although most of him was in darkness, his eyes had caught the last glimmer from the edge of the cave. The light revealed a sly satisfaction I’d seen before. Only, it hadn’t been in Nat’s eyes but in Melisande’s. . . .
I bolted.
Cursing, she came after me. “Give me that stone!” Her voice was more like her own now—higher and older and full of venom.
Panting, I plunged into another hole, one that showed a faint shimmer of light. A good sign, or a bad one? I didn’t know, but it gave me enough light to run by. And run I did, as fast as I could. Behind me I heard more cursing and shouting. Was Melisande calling for help? I could only hope she’d been lying about Pressina tracking me with the stone, as she’d lied about everything else.
Keep quiet, love . . .
What an idiot I’d been. But there was no time to think about it now. The hole had become a tunnel, and behind me I could hear the slap of footsteps.
Run.
A few yards later, the tunnel divided. I took the right fork because it was wider.
Twenty yards later it opened out into a wide glowing cavern. Hundreds of pillars rose from the floor like giant dripping candles, but the walls were smooth and unbroken; I couldn’t see a way out. Nor could I turn around. Melisande was right on my heels.
I ducked behind one of the pillars. Seconds later, Melisande raced into the room.
Her footsteps came to a stop. “I know you’re here, Chantress.” Her voice echoed strangely. “I saw you make the turn. You don’t stand a chance. I’ve called for help, and the Mothers will come soon. And even if they take their time, it doesn’t matter. I am more than a match for you.”
I peeked out from my hiding place. She was circling the pillars by the entrance. And—I was chilled to see—she still had something of the look of Nat about her, though the features were becoming more like her own. Without making a sound, I pulled out of sight.
“I have been a faithful servant to the Mothers,” Melisande went on, “and Pressina has rewarded me. Here I have true power. And all because of your colossal stupidity.”
I gritted my teeth. What did she mean?
“Yes, your stupidity,” she repeated, relishing the word. “And your mother’s. Pressina has told me everything. It was your mother’s own Wild Magic that brought her here. When your mother sang to defend herself from the Shadowgrims, she awakened something ancient and powerful in the waters nearby—something that loves the