“And I need to get back the Gänslinghaus to help Umayya.” Gisele shakes her head. “I wish I could help you with the curse, Vanja, I really do, but if you’re supposed to make up for what you took, I don’t see how giving my name back will fix anything. You’d just be forcing me into a life I don’t want.” She looks at the hearth. “Miss Ragne, if you’re ready.”
Part of me wants to scream at her. Part of me knows she’s right, and I hate it.
I know in my gem-studded bones I have to give her name back to break the curse. But if she doesn’t want it . . . Eiswald said she gave me this curse for my greed. And it would be pure selfishness to drag Gisele back just to save my own skin.
By the time I shovel out enough frustration to make my way to a witty comeback, Gisele is already gone, and Ragne with her. Emeric is tactfully bundling himself into his cloak and scarf without a word.
Right.This is the last part of the plan: I get him out of the castle, then I get to go crawl into bed—no, I need to scrub the blood out of the carpet and get Poldi his grits, andthenI get to crawl into bed and really,reallynot think about what’s happened tonight.
I grab a warm woolen shawl from the wardrobe and head for the veranda door. “Come on, this is the safest way out.”
Emeric narrows his eyes. “Is it, though?”
That startles a laugh from me. “I’m not dropping you into the Yssar this time, so yes. Besides, Poldi’s busy.”
Thekoboldpointedly snaps a femur in two from the fireplace. “Not too busy.”
Clouds have rolled in, and it’s snowing again when I step out, hop over the balustrade, and swing onto the trellis, picking my way around the roses. Emeric is watching me, shaking his head in disbelief. “Again: thesafestway?”
“Just watch out for thorns.” I make it to the bottom and wait as he clambers down after me, grumbling curses when his cloak periodically catches despite his best efforts. Once he sets foot on the ground, I catch his shoulder before he takes too big a step back and plunges off the narrow bank.
Emeric stares at the minuscule strip of dirt between the castle wall and the river. Then he looks back up at the trellis. “This is absurd, Miss Schmidt. This is how you get in and out?”
I’m a bit disappointed that we’ve gone back to “Miss Schmidt,” but it would take a knife to my throat to make me admit it. “I took the other way when I was poisoned,” I tell him. “Lots of stairs, lets out onto a pathway behind the waterfall that’s solid ice this time of year. You saw how that panned out. Now keep your back to the wall and start scooting.”
“How have you survived doing this for a year?” he asks under his breath as we inch along.
I snort into the frosty air. “Sheer belligerence, mostly.”
“I believe it.”
For a moment there’s only the scrape of cloth on limestone. Eventually I ask: “What happens if Pap—if Klemens decides to arrest me?”
“Then I will make a very persuasive argument that your assistance has been . . .” Emeric sighs. “Extremely unorthodox, frequently indecent, but nevertheless irreplaceable. Hubert’s a pragmatist. I can probably get him to hold off for now.”
“I don’t like ‘probably.’”
“Well, it’s what I have.” He lets out a breath as we turn a corner and finally reach the wider part of the bank.
“I don’t suppose I could convince Klemens to retire early.”
Emeric’s eyes flash. “No.”
I shush him, lowering my voice to a whisper. “It’s a joke, Junior.” Then I point to a nearby wall. “That’s the barracks, and the other buildings you’ll pass might be occupied too, so keep it down. You can hop the wall onto the Hoenstratz viaduct at the bottom of the hill. People mostly use this path in the summer, so try not to draw too much attention to yourself.”
Emeric frowns at the rocky track. “What do they use it for?”
“It’s nicknamed the Lovers’ Road,” I say dryly. “Take a guess.”
“Ah.” It’s too dark to tell if he’s blushing, but the snowflakes catching in his hair almost seem to melt a bit quicker. He starts down the path, then pauses and turns back to me. “Are you going to be all right? On your own?”
One of these days, he’s going to stop catching me in the throat with these questions, but it isn’t tonight.
“I usually am,” I say, with the quickest tremor in my voice. It’s a betrayal, a confession I never intended to give, and it hangs between us like his breath clouding the air. He’s looking up at me through the falling snow, silent and unsure.
I—I need to get out of the cold. “Don’t fall and die.”
Then I vanish around the corner before I can think too hard about the look on his face, the same peculiar one from before.
