won’t be able to let you out until you confiscate the key from Milo’s neck.”
The key my mother had wanted? Did it unlock dungeon cells? I rushed over and crouched at the warlock’s side. The leather cord hung from his neck. I trembled as I picked up the bloody dagger I’d dropped earlier and severed the cord to free the key.
What had my mother once said? I used to have one just like it, and I wish with all my being that I still did, so I could give it to you.
“Noel had one more message for you,” Everly said. “Apparently your mother didn’t have a key just like it—she had that exact one. She just used it to pay Milo’s father for your barrier spell.”
Truly? I gazed down at the iron key with a swirling end, tears welling. “Why would he perform such strong magic for fourteen years in exchange for this?”
“Because it isn’t just any key. It can open any lock.”
And Momma had wanted me to have it. Because she’d known, deep in her heart, that a day would come when I desperately needed it. “I have the key now, Momma,” I whispered. Fate had struck again. How else could a magical key have come full circle, arriving just when I needed it?
Everly stuck her hand through the bars, a silent request for the key. “You want out?”
Yes. Deciding to trust her, I handed over the key.
Everly opened the lock, as hoped; the cell door disconnected and slid out of the way.
Relieved, I raced out of my prison. “Come on.” I reclaimed my key and darted down the hall, expecting the sorceress to follow. Let’s get this done. We would save Saxon. I would accept his proposal and pluck the crown from my father’s head. Roth would reclaim his throne, and I would find my dragons.
My father had made a huge mistake today. Before, I would have left the kingdom and never returned, leaving him to his life. Now? He didn’t have the strength to stop me. Because yes, I would be making use of Leonora’s magic before I killed her, just as she had made use of my body.
I would kill her. I must. My determination had not wavered.
From behind me, Everly latched on to my wrist, jerking me to a stop before reaching the end of the hallway, where the exit waited. “We need to get you ready for the ball, Cinder baby.”
She waved a hand in my direction, a gust of wind hitting me full force. Tingles erupted, lights sparking all around me. My dirty clothes disintegrated in a flash, new garments already forming. But I wasn’t wearing a fancy ball gown, as I’d expected. I was wearing the clothes of a warrior. A leather and mesh halter of my own, paired with a pleated leather skirt. I even wore an assortment of weapons—a sword, several daggers and—I gasped. A crossbow with collapsible sides. My crossbow. The one I’d designed. During my six days with Saxon, I’d come up with a way to reinforce every movable part. This one was made of gold so clear it appeared to be glass, with a chamber for paper thin gold pieces as long as my index finger, with razor-sharp tips. Upon contact, hooks sprang from those projectiles, embedding in whatever they entered.
Pride infused my spine. Lightweight sheets of golden armor had been strategically placed, interweaving with the leather and mesh. On my feet were a pair of combat boots rather than glass slippers. I. Was. In. Love.
“The fashion accessory every warrior princess needs,” Everly said, smiling at the boots.
“Agreed. Now let’s go.” I opened the hidden door and entered the secret passage.
The sorceress followed, saying, “We need to come up with a good catchphrase for you. We’re about to kick our way into your father’s celebration trap, and a lady should make a proper entrance. Don’t worry. I’ll help you craft one.” She fluffed her fall of pale hair. “They’re kind of my specialty.”
“I’m not sure I know what a catchphrase is.”
“It’s a phrase people will associate specifically with you. They’ll be talking about it for years to come. As they should.”
“What’s yours?”
She smiled slowly, wickedly, and purred, “Mirror, mirror on the wall. Who will perish when I call?”
Chills ran down my spine. Okay, yes. I needed a catchphrase. Because, she was right. This night would be remembered for years to come. It was the night a thrice-twisted fairy tale reached its conclusion.
29
Dance the night away.
Keep the misery