to its original state. The moons had risen, twin crescents, one pale, one paler.
“Does your shield spell have a countersign?” she asked the prince.
He hesitated, as if he wanted to tell her again to save the dragons for another day. I he gave her the countersign. She practiced the spell. When she thought her shield sturdy enough, she blasted a path through the brambles.
Walking through the tunnel, they discussed tactics and agreed that in order to eventually counter dragon fire, she must first achieve safety.
“Let’s both put up shields, mine on the outside of yours,” she said. That way, if her shield proved less than stalwart, they’d still have his for protection.
“Good idea.”
“But if my shield is good enough, then I’ll keep going.”
He nodded. “I will stay on this side and distract the cockatrices—if they alternate their fire between the two of us, it will give you more time to figure out what to do. But for this time, do not go beyond the front steps of the castle.”
“Why?” But then she remembered. “Is it because you don’t want me to see Sleeping Beauty?”
“That is not—”
“Is she pretty?”
“She does not exist.”
“In here she does. Is she pretty?” She disliked herself for the pestering questions, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
“Pretty enough.” He sounded strained.
“Do you enjoy kissing her?”
“I have not kissed her since I met you.” Suddenly it was the Master of the Domain speaking, his tone hard, his eyes harder.
Misery and thrill collided in her. Had he declared that he’d given up other girls for her? Or was she being a complete fool?
“Now will you concentrate on the task at hand?” he went on impatiently.
She took a deep breath and counted to five. “Let’s fight some dragons.”
The colossus cockatrices, maddened by the scent of intruders, streamed their fire.
Iolanthe and the prince each called for a shield. Hers held. She summoned more shields, marching toward the cockatrices. They were chained to the castle gate and could neither come at her nor give chase. As soon as she moved past their fire range, she’d be safe.
The castle gate beckoned. She started running. Cockatrices had poor eyesight. With their fire blocked, they’d try to assault her with claws and tails, but not being predators, they’d be clumsy at it.
The ground shook as the colossus cockatrices thrashed and stomped, but she dashed past them. From somewhere behind, the prince shouted at her to be careful. She sprinted across the wide courtyard and up the steps. But she did not stop there, as he’d requested. Instead, she pushed open the huge, thickly reinforced doors of the castle and stepped into the great hall.
The interior of the castle was gloomy. A few guttering torches threw out faint circles of light, leaving large swaths of the great hall darkened and forbidding.
Could shadows move against shadows? She squinted, her fingers tightening on the prince’s spare wand. Behind her came a soft sound like drapes fluttering before an open window.
Before she could spin around, something heavy and spiked slammed into the side of her skull, one particularly sharp spur burying itself deep into her temple. Her face contorted. Her muscles convulsed. Her scream lodged in her throat.
She fell with a resounding thud. A black, reptilian creature landed beside her, folding its wings with barely a swish. A sharp claw reached out and slashed her throat.
But she was already dead.
Titus shouted the first three words of the exit password before he realized that
He threw a battery of spells at the wyvern, driving it off her body. A second wyvern swooped down. He dove toward her, grabbing her hand just as the creature’s spiked tail crashed toward him.
They were back in his room. Her eyes flew open, but they were the eyes of the possessed. She shook, the kind of frenetic convulsion that would cause her to stop breathing before he could get to the laboratory and find a proper remedy.
He slapped their hands on the Crucible and prayed frantically.
Iolanthe stared dumbly at the dark, star-sprinkled sky with its two moons. Who was she? Where was she?
Of their own accord, her hands clutched her throat. She was—she’d been—
Terror rose in her, a dark, drowning tide. She screamed.
And was instantly thrown into the coldest water she’d ever known, the shock of it like knives upon her skin. She gasped, her erstwhile horror forgotten. So cold, the burn of ice frozen to her body.
Someone yanked her out of the water and held her tight. She began to shiver. Her teeth chattered. She would never be warm again.
He rubbed his hand along her back, the friction needle points of heat. “Sorry, I had to do that. You were going into convulsions.”
“What—what happened?”
His kneaded her arm. “You died in the Crucible. There are two wyverns in the great hall—I tried to warn you, but you did not hear me. I am sorry. I should have told you sooner.”
The fault was not his; she’d been an idiot who’d turned the topic to Sleeping Beauty and wouldn’t let go. “Where am I now?” she asked, still trembling.
“Next to Ice Lake.”
“Isn’t that where the kraken lives?”
“Yes. We have to go soon. It would already have felt the—”
The lake sloshed behind her.
“And they lived happily ever after!” they shouted together.
The last thing she saw was an enormous, mottled tentacle, splashing toward her.
Her heart was still pounding.
She took her hand off the Crucible. “It’s a dangerous book.”
“You do not know the half of it,” said the prince. “At least you seem better now.”
She felt more or less normal. “So if I survive the convulsions, dying in the Crucible has no other effect?”
“What do you think about wyverns?”
The moment he said the word, her hands shook. She braced them against the edge of the desk, but the shaking only transferred to her arms.
“That is the effect of dying in the Crucible. I have never gone back to Black Bastion. The mere thought of Helgira still makes me”—he took a deep breath—“well, incoherent, to say the least.”
She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I’m going back in.”
“What?”
“I can’t be afraid of wyverns. I can’t go into hysteria in front of the Commander’s Palace.”
“At least wait until tomorrow.”
“I’m not going to be less afraid tomorrow.” She touched his hand. “Will you come and help me?”
“Of course.” He sighed. “Of course I will help you.”
She stood with her hand on the ominously heavy doors of the great hall, the prince by her side. Behind them the colossal cockatrices bellowed impotently. Inside awaited the wyverns that had slaughtered her only minutes ago.
