a labored sigh and faced the ruins. “Lead the way.”
The moon hung low in the sky and offered only scant light. Although Matilda struggled seeing through the gloom, I had no trouble, and I led us through the quiet town, past the fields, towards the forest and the ruins of Artane Castle. Our home seemed so small behind us that I had to turn away out of fear of the anxiety rearing its ugly head again and preventing me from venturing farther. This time it was Matilda who was pulling me along.
As we neared the tower, the weeds and trees grew thicker. Soon we found ourselves pushing through chest-high coltsfoot and scutch grass. I searched for some kind of path but found none and cursed myself for not bringing a billhook. I had watched Thornley use such a blade to clear the arbor of some spent vines, and although I had never handled anything like it, I felt I could have sliced through this jungle with ease.
While Matilda seemed to be growing fatigued behind me, I became stronger with each step. Part of me wanted to run, but we needed to be cautious; Nanna Ellen might be close by, and we dared not allow her to see us.
I had never been this near to the castle. The tower was far larger than I expected, at least twenty feet wide, maybe more. The stones which made up the fa?ade were enormous gray limestone squares, perfectly stacked, with little gaps between, a marvel of engineering for its day. After hundreds of years, parts of the structure still appeared as if they had been built yesterday. Moss crept up its sides, covering nearly the entire north side from ground to crown. I couldn’t help but gaze up to the top of the tower, dizziness washing over me for standing so close.
There were three windows on this side, none within reach. Archers once perched there, I imagined, picking off enemy soldiers.
When the entrance came into view, Matilda and I crouched low in the tall weeds.
“Is she in there?” Matilda asked, shivering.
The October air had indeed grown chill, and although I wore my wool wrap, my skin still prickled with gooseflesh. Matilda had donned a wrap as well, but the temperature dropped with each inch of the moon’s ascent, and even the warmest of garments could only hold it at bay for so long
“I don’t see her,” I replied.
“Is she in there?” Matilda repeated with a frustration in her voice.
I hadn’t told Matilda outright that I sensed Nanna Ellen’s presence, but I had not exactly hidden the fact, either, and while she may have doubted it earlier, her words now suggested she doubted no more. I myself could not explain how or why I was able to do such a thing, yet there it was, a strange tugging, as if a cord had been tied to Nanna Ellen and she was pulling me along behind her. That pull was accompanied by what could only be described as a tickling at the back of my mind, and as I grew closer to her, that tickling redoubled. It wasn’t uncomfortable; quite the opposite—I found it soothing. This force wanted me to be close to her.
I faced the tower, my gaze tracing the tall formation from bottom to top, pausing at each of the windows not because I could see inside but because the openings somehow made it easier to feel inside. When my eyes reached the top, sight no longer necessary, I closed them and focused my mind on Nanna Ellen. I gripped the invisible cord and pulled myself along hand over hand until I was no longer in the field at the base of the castle, but floating first through the air, then passing through the thick limestone walls to the interior of the building to a winding set of stairs running along the far wall, to Nanna Ellen descending them. I saw her buttoning her cloak as she took the steps, then pulling the hood over her head. She didn’t do this out of protection from the cold but because she didn’t wish to be recognized
“She is coming out,” I told Matilda. While I heard myself saying the words, it seemed as if I weren’t the