evil woods and evil monsters. And she had survived. Lukasz had seen cities she could only dream about; he had met people she would never see. He had lived in a world like this one, where the streets were whole and the darkness had not yet crept in.
She stood up, and a faint, foggy version of her looked out of the window.
Power shivered through her gums, and Ren opened her lips. The girl in the window had blurry teeth, long and wicked. Ren knew they were yellow, with black speckles in the gums. Ren blinked, and even in the warped glass, she saw pupils big as moons.
Ren blinked again, closed her lips, and when she opened her eyes, she was human again.
Or at least, she looked like one.
There was the sound of tinkling glass. Ren whipped around. A furry tail disappeared around the corner at the end of the hallway. She raced after it.
She skidded to a stop at the next juncture, only to see the tail disappear around the next corner. She chased it down. On and on, she sprinted down halls that were alternately pitch-black or lit by candelabras that burst into flame as she passed. In one hall, the entire wall formed a window. In another, both walls were taken up by bookshelves.
At last, she skidded into the biggest room yet.
Panting, Ren took stock of her surroundings. It was completely empty, ringed with more carved chairs. Chevron-shaped stripes of light and dark wood decorated the floor. The walls were adorned with carvings and amber inlays, topped with dragon skulls and lanterns of dragon bones. There were no windows, but overhead, the ceiling was glass. Beyond it, the moon looked lonely in an endless sky.
A chandelier the size of one of her castle towers hung from its center. It was wrought from dragon bones—not just the skulls, but the rib cages and the femurs, held together by unseen chains, and probably by magic.
A hearth took up the opposite wall.
Ren crossed the great hall under the glow of dragon bones and the stars of ten centuries. The hearth was empty, without any wood or kindling. A tiny figurine was balanced on the otherwise empty mantelpiece. Ren picked it up; it was only two or three inches tall, carved from wood.
It was a dragon.
Then she looked from the dragon to the hearth, overflowing with soot. Thoughtfully, she replaced the figurine on the mantel.
There is a glass sword in Hala Smoków, the Leszy had said.
Before she could change her mind, she plunged her hands into the cinders. Spiders tumbled down the chimney and insects swarmed over her hands. Her fingers touched metal. Heart soaring, she pulled. The hilt slid out of the ash. Except it was lighter than she had expected.
No—
Ren wanted to cry.
“Ren—”
She turned and saw Lukasz, somehow looking even worse than before. When she spoke, her voice caught. “It’s broken.”
The silver hilt resembled the jaws of a dragon, as if the blade should have issued from its open mouth. But where there should have been a blade, the dragon’s jaws were shut tight. It wasn’t even a sword. Just a silver hilt.
Lukasz didn’t say anything. He just crossed the hall, and Ren held out the empty hilt.
“I can’t believe it,” she said, unable to keep the catch out of her voice. “It’s a trick. A cruel, mean trick. We shouldn’t have listened to the Leszy—”
He took the sword from her outstretched hand. Ren broke off.
As his bare hand touched the hilt, it changed. Black tarnish melted away, and the hilt glowed silver. The dragon’s closed mouth began to shiver. The jaws trembled. Then they yawned, opened wide, and a column of light shot from the broken hilt.
The light hardened.
In his burned hand, Lukasz held the glass sword. Its blade was whole. It issued the same creepy light as the skeletons, pure and thick with magic. Lukasz turned the sword over. The light caught his face, illuminated excitement and wonder. Then it dulled, like cooling iron.
“And this can kill it?” whispered Ren.
Lukasz glanced back at her without lowering the blade. For a moment, he looked terrible. All hard angles and predator eyes. He grinned wolfishly, teeth not quite coming together.
Then he laughed. The sound echoed off the wooden walls and danced down the hallways. Ren saw only his dark brows, that one stubborn piece of hair, and that perfect, slightly crooked front tooth.
“A thousand years of Wolf-Lords.” He flicked down the blade and offered her the sword, its blade full