lock. The door swung open, and they ran through the sweet cloud of burnt incense.
“That way,” the guard said, pointing to the stairs. Their feet skipped down the steps, hurrying toward the exit. They reached the ground level, eager to run for the door, when the guard ordered them to halt. Matron stood at the other end of the corridor shouting out dousing spells, but the flames licking the beamed ceiling only grew, her words hitting like water thrown on a grease fire. Even the stone foundation appeared to catch fire as the flames clung to the walls of the old fortress.
“It’s no use,” she called. “Evacuate the witches. I’ll see to the mortal prisoners in the east wing.”
The guard fumbled for his keys in a mad panic. “You two, in here.” He gestured toward a small room where metal restraints hung in rows along the wall.
Yvette balked. “You heard her—get us out of here.”
“Not until you’re shackled.”
“The whole place is going to burn down and you want to restrain us?”
“I’m not risking any more escapes,” he said and shoved them both face-first against the wall.
Vibrations from the rune spell buzzed along Elena’s skin as the guard snapped a shackle around her left wrist. Hope sank as the other cuff went around Yvette’s right wrist, binding them together. If she’d had a notion to run, it had just been pruned to the nub.
The giant oak door of Maison de Chêne opened. The guard escorted the witches down the steps and under the brickwork arch at the bottom of the hill. Free from the clouds of smoke, they sucked in deep gulps of fresh night air as they clung to the stone pillars holding up the arch. Fear dissolved into awe as Elena turned to stare at the massive flames crowning the roof of the ancient castle. Below, at the main entrance, Matron herded a dozen panicked women through the doorway, ordering them to stay calm as she waved her wand. But before she could spit the incantation out, the beams over the main entrance caved in and the shackled prisoners scattered down the stone steps like a stampeding herd of gazelles, tripping and tumbling over each other. The guards, including the one watching over Elena and Yvette, ran to contain the chaos and corral the mortal prisoners.
A familiar laugh echoed off the walls of the prison, prickling Elena’s supernatural instincts.
“It’s Sidra,” she whispered to Yvette. “She’s doing this.”
Yvette’s face lit up. “I knew she wouldn’t forget who gave her that ciggie. Come on, now’s our chance.”
“What, you mean run?”
“Yes!”
“And how far do you think we’ll get, bound together and unable to do magic?”
Yvette wrinkled her nose at the logic and yanked her arm, forcing Elena off balance. She tugged back, and a column of smoke rose up beside them. An overpowering cloud of incense prompted them to wave their free hands in front of their faces, while the shape of a human emerged from the smoke.
“Thought you’d be halfway to your desert by now,” Yvette said.
“And maybe I was. But a debt is a debt.” Sidra, now fully reanimated, grinned and flashed her gold-inlaid teeth at them, then shook her head at their shackled wrists. “This complicates things, does it not?”
Yvette raised her arm, hauling Elena’s up with it by the chain. “Can you get these things off us?”
Sidra shrugged. “It is a thing I can do. I owe you each for my escape, and therefore a favor is due to both. And yet I did not expect you would be chained together.”
“What difference does it make?” Yvette squealed before stealing a look over her shoulder. “Just do it before that damn guard comes back.”
Sidra trailed her fingers through the air, and a screen of smoke cut them off from view of the guards.
The jinni met Elena’s eye. “Your fates have been bound.”
“What’s that mean?” Yvette asked.
“It means you both must want freedom for me to grant such a thing.”
“Of course we do!”
Sidra thumped a knuckle against Yvette’s forehead and then pointed her finger at Elena. “Did you ever stop to think this one might actually be innocent? If I grant your desire and set you free, I make her a fugitive too. I cannot decide another’s fate for them. She must choose her path.”
Yvette dropped her arm and glared at Sidra.
Elena felt the pinch of the shackles against her wrists. Running meant guilt, but she feared staying would end in a sure date with la demi-lune, innocent or not.