Somehow I moved away from the door and she went to work at the lock. She poked her pin into the crevice, jiggled it, repositioned it, jiggled it again, and there was a distinct click. She turned the knob and pushed it open. “There we are! Now let’s get you together.”
Her words seemed so distant now and I didn’t even care about the calliope. I was drifting off. I didn’t care where. I didn’t care about anything.
“Sounds like we don’t have much time, so c’mon. Don’t give up.” She snapped her fingers in my face. “Remember the Queen. Remember who you are.” She paused and looked over her shoulder, then turned back and in a lowered voice said, “You are Jane Shackle. You are a Fayte Guardian.”
Jane Shackle. A Fayte Guardian. Was that who I was?
Yes, that was it. And the Queen. I had to save her. From the calliope. From the shadow creature.
Somehow, I moved into the room, and I saw myself standing at the wall, paralyzed.
“Squeeze your Faytling and think ‘awake,’” Marlie urged.
I mustered my last shred of strength, squeezed the Faytling, and thought the word.
All at once I was spinning and falling until just as suddenly it stopped. I opened my eyes. The wall stood before me. I looked at my hands. They weren’t glowing and they were heavy. My feet, too.
“Everything all right?”
I turned to find Marlie’s forehead creased in concern. I wiggled my fingers and moved my feet. “I think so. I feel… better.”
“Good, then—”
The start of a calliope tune stopped her short.
“I think that’s our cue. Let’s go.”
She ducked out the door and I followed. Then she stopped and straightened. With her arm behind herself, she waved me back.
“You shouldn’t be here.” It was a male voice I didn’t recognize. I heard hard steps coming our direction.
Marlie moved farther into the corridor, away from the door. “You’re right about that. I got myself good and lost. I was trying to find the orangery, if you can believe it. Know how I might get there from here?”
“The orangery? That’s clear on the other side. Here, if you’ll just take these stairs and then…”
The rest of the conversation was lost as they moved down the corridor.
So, once again I was on my own. I couldn’t wait for Marlie to come back. I had to move now.
The calliope had gone silent, which meant the performance must be starting soon. Or had whatever Mr. Bailey—whatever that shadow creature—had in store already been done?
Was I already too late?
That fear drove me forward. I didn’t know where, but my feet carried me, fueled by something beyond myself, down one corridor then another and through a drawing room until I was back in familiar territory. I stormed through the anteroom, where I again found the two footmen lingering.
This time, they saw me and pulled back.
I can only imagine how I appeared. Locks of hair worked loose from my usually tidy bun, eyes frenzied and wild.
I didn’t care. My only thought was to get through that door, to stop this evil in its tracks.
The door opened, and Mr. MacDougall emerged. His hateful gaze trained on me, his shoulders squared. He shut the door behind himself and drew up to his full, terrifying height. Narrow shoulders sharp and rigid. Lips slashed in a tight, twisting sneer. “Come no farther, Jane.”
He looked to both footmen and issued a single, deliberate nod. In unison, they fell in beside him, flanking him, one on either side. Like guards.
“Don’t do this,” I begged. “We must save her. You won’t let him harm the Queen, will you?”
Something shifted in the footmen’s gazes. Their blank stares on me darted to Mr. MacDougall.
“She’s lying,” he said flatly. “She’s a trickster. She will lie and steal, anything to achieve her ends. Do not allow her to pass.”
My ends? What was he talking about?
“I’m not the threat here.”
“Oh no? Then how is it you know exactly when to get underfoot with your mischief? You are playing with things beyond your understanding, girl. Now leave us to our business.”
“What business?” I cried. “The death of our Queen? The destruction of our empire?”
The footmen looked to him, new questions in their eyes.
Mr. MacDougall waved them off. “Don’t listen to her, men. She’s lying. The only thing that will be destroyed is that damnable efficiency campaign. You want your colleagues back, don’t you? Our household restored in its entirety? This is the way. When the mayhem ensues, Her Majesty will see for herself that it is people that keep this castle in order, not her Prince’s modern ideals.”
What nonsense was this? Was it a ruse, or did he truly believe what he said?
The light in his eye gave it away. He didn’t know what Mr. Bailey intended. Mr. MacDougall had only been a pawn in this game, not the mastermind.
I could see there was no point in arguing. These men meant to block me. Nothing I said would change that. I balled my hands into fists and pressed them to my temples.
Lady, tell me what to say! Tell me what to do!
No answer came, not that I expected one. Not really. I could traverse the entire castle in spectral form and unlock every secret with a touch, and none of it would help me stop the violence about to unfold behind those doors. Even this stupid Faytling was powerless against that.
I stared at it in my hand. Still glowing its stupid purple light, but who cared? It was useless. Worse than useless because it, more than anything, had given me hope.
Edward Bailey had won. That shadowy creature of a man in my nightmares had won.
Fury welled within me. A swirl of rage that replaced every other thought. The Faytling’s glow intensified. The purple brightened to white, pure as starlight in my hand.
I sneered at it.
