“Good. I’d like to get this over with as soon as we can. That castle gives me a bad feeling.”
“You’re not the only one.”
I shuddered as I thought of entering the castle. What would we find? Would there be bodies?
I’d heard rumors of what had happened after I’d left—of the townsfolk rioting and trying to take the palace, of them being slaughtered by his squadrons inside, of the thieves that lived there now. I’d never known whether to believe the rumors.
We left the stables and rounded the outer bailey. Facing the looming drawbridge, I took a deep breath before entering. I’d already made up my mind to do this. Now, I’d have to live with that decision, even if it cost more than I was able to pay.
8
Our footsteps echoed as we walked into the massive entryway. Raj grabbed a torch from one of the sconces, then lit it with his flint rock. Flames crackled and sputtered as they flared to life. The acrid scent of smoke filled the air as we continued through the cavernous, arching chamber.
Vines twisted around the walls, seeming to consume them. Smashed vases covered in dust lay on the ground. Some of the cracked remains still held onto their colors. I spotted painted pink cherry blossoms on one of them. The sight brought back memories of running down this hallway with the vases lining either side, wishing I could’ve touched one, afraid of getting whipped if I did.
I knelt beside a crushed piece and placed my fingers atop it, laughing to myself. Well, at least I’d finally gotten to touch one, though now the once treasured piece was nothing more than discarded rubble, left to turn to dust along with the rest of the castle.
After standing, I continued with Raj and the wolf at my side. Our bootsteps crunched over the debris on the floor. Firelight flickered over the walls. Some of the portraits were still visible beneath the vines. Empty gazes stared from the canvas. Most depicted the royal family, people who lived so long ago, I couldn’t recall their names.
We made it through the main foyer and into a hallway that led to the stairs. The air became staler as we took the stairs to the dungeons. The scent of rot lingered when we stepped off the staircase and onto the bottom floor.
The dungeons spread out before us, though the vines had grown so thick, it appeared as if they’d replaced the walls completely. It seemed as if nothing remained of the bricks and mortar, and we walked through a strange forest of thorns. We stepped over the growth crisscrossing the floor as we paced through the dungeons.
Unlike the area above, in some places, the snaking plants here grew with green shoots that fluttered as we walked past. My mother had created the vines to be impervious to flames, and to never need water, air, or sunlight—they were basically impossible to destroy. High Sorcerer Varlocke had found out the hard way.
The wolf followed us on silent paws. The glow of the torch’s flame highlighted the rusting gates barring the cells. A rotting corpse lay on the ground in one of the cells, the tunic and cape chewed by rats, the face little more than a skull. My insides squirmed at the sight of the human remains. He must’ve been abandoned in this place when the vines had forced the high sorcerer from the castle. I couldn’t imagine enduring such a death—to be locked away, left to starve and die.
We stepped into a hallway that branched in either direction.
“Which way?” Raj asked.
I glanced at the green shoots growing from the vines. To the right, only a few sprouted, but in the passageway to our left, they covered everything.
“I think we should follow the shoots. There will be more growing around the radish.”
We turned and followed the hallway, stepping carefully over the brambles that grew thicker the farther we went. The flame from our torch sputtered, casting a hazy glow over the woody bark covering the twisting plants. Sounds of rhythmic beating came from up ahead, reminding me of the drumbeats I’d heard on the high sorcerer’s battlefields many years ago.
The hallway opened to form a circular chamber. Cells lined the walls, and in the center of the floor sat what could have once been a well, with intricate stonework etching the marble. Greenish light shone from the well’s interior, and a single vine rose from the well’s opening. The gnarled protrusion grew with long spiky thorns.
We approached the well. I arrived first and looked inside. Pulsing green magic shone from a radish about the size of a human heart.
Raj stepped beside me and looked inside the well. “This is it?”
“Yes, I think so. It’s been altered by my mother’s magic.”
I removed the dagger from my boot. “I’m going to cut a piece from it, but I’m not sure what will happen when I do. Keep a watch out.”
Raj nodded, unsheathing his sword and holding it at the ready. Greenish light reflected off his mirror-smooth blade.
As I lowered my hand into the well, the magic warmed my fingers. Its familiarity made me pause.
This was my mother’s magic. It conjured images of sitting next to her while she read from her spell books, her beautiful golden hair spilling down her back and over her shoulders. I remembered playing with her hair as she worked, and how she’d chide me if I pulled on it. I also remembered the magic—the way it felt as she read the spells, light on her tongue, powerful magic escaping with the words she spoke, like music.
Sometimes it seemed she’d never died. Those days were the worst.
I pushed my memories aside and reached for the radish, cutting through the red skin, revealing the pearl-white flesh beneath. Its sharp fragrance filled the
