lover. Come. I’ll tuck you in.” He took Jemma’s right hand and led her toward her Bed-Chamber, candle sputtering.
Oh, no—he would see that her sheets were all ripped up.…
Just as they reached her door, Jemma feigned a sneeze and blew his candle out.
“My poor child, have you caught chill? Quickly, into bed. Keep your clothes on; you’ll be warmer.” Nox fumbled into the room. Jemma leapt under the blankets and hastily straightened them over her, hoping he wouldn’t notice the two furry shapes that nestled in behind her.
“My dear Flamehead.” Nox leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “You remind me so much of someone I knew,long ago. When you were little—around the same age she was when she died—I used to watch you while you slept, wondering what you were dreaming.”
“Oh.” Jemma’s heart squeezed a little, remembering the twin sister Nocturna had mentioned. Then, thinking it might be suspicious if she didn’t show curiosity, she asked, “Who was she, Papa?”
“Someone very dear to me. But it doesn’t matter now; it’s all in the past. Sleep tight, Flamehead. And happy birthday! Midnight has struck, you know.”
“Oh? I didn’t hear it.” Jemma clutched her Stone. “Thank you, Papa.”
Sometimes
, she thought as Nox closed the door,
he seems so ordinary. It’s hard to think that he could possibly do anything to harm me
. But he
had
harmed her. Had torn her away from her real family. She steeled her heart and closed her eyes, knowing that she must wait yet again for a safe amount of time, until he was asleep. Then she could make her move.
Never had she imagined it could be so easy to escape the castle. Being Outside felt completely natural, as if she had been there her whole life. The air was part of her; the breeze defined the edges of her skin, the sound of it in the trees invigorated her bones. Golden light dappled everywhere, and danced in her veins. She was free! Free at last to twirl and swirl, to run from the forest and out under the Mistless sky, the sky Marsh had described so often. Then she was standing on a cliff, looking down at a sparkling expanse of water the color of her Stone, the color of her eyes.…
“Jemma … Jemma!” A voice lilted from behind her. She wheeled around. A woman was running toward her, armsoutstretched, auburn hair streaming like a sunlit flag. The woman began to sing, the song beautifully familiar, lilting like a lullaby: “Jemma—my darling angel!” Jemma was flying then, over a field of flaxen waves, cloud shadows racing her, and then everything turned lilac-colored, the lilac of the shawl the woman was wearing—the same shawl Marsh had wrapped the books in! Jemma felt its softness on her cheek, breathed in its fragrance as strong arms held her, safe at last.… But—how could this be? Wasn’t the shawl at the castle, under her mattress with the books …?
The sky blackened. Clouds, playful only moments ago, menaced and lowered. A bell tolled. One … Wind whipped up, pulling her away. Two … The woman’s arms were letting go.…
Jemma woke on the last strike of three, clutching her Stone. Pie was tugging at her clothes. Noodle, tangled in her hair, was nipping her ears. Neither the storm outside nor the rats’ attempts to wake her had broken into her sleep.
“Oh,
no
! The night’s half over—we must fly!”
Jemma leapt out of bed, tied her Stone around her neck, and yanked on her weekday boots. Then she grabbed the lilac pouch from under her mattress, knotted it around her waist, and fled from her room, with Noodle in one pocket, Pie in the other. The Stone dangled from her neck, like an aquamarine beacon lighting her way to a new life.
CHAPTER NINE
Behind the Third Door
Monday, early hours
Jemma crept up to Drudge’s sleeping alcove just inside the Corridor of the Dungeons. A wire was strung across it, on which his tattered velvet jacket and doublet hung like a makeshift curtain. She winced as she pulled
Oh, no—he would see that her sheets were all ripped up.…
Just as they reached her door, Jemma feigned a sneeze and blew his candle out.
“My poor child, have you caught chill? Quickly, into bed. Keep your clothes on; you’ll be warmer.” Nox fumbled into the room. Jemma leapt under the blankets and hastily straightened them over her, hoping he wouldn’t notice the two furry shapes that nestled in behind her.
“My dear Flamehead.” Nox leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “You remind me so much of someone I knew,long ago. When you were little—around the same age she was when she died—I used to watch you while you slept, wondering what you were dreaming.”
“Oh.” Jemma’s heart squeezed a little, remembering the twin sister Nocturna had mentioned. Then, thinking it might be suspicious if she didn’t show curiosity, she asked, “Who was she, Papa?”
“Someone very dear to me. But it doesn’t matter now; it’s all in the past. Sleep tight, Flamehead. And happy birthday! Midnight has struck, you know.”
“Oh? I didn’t hear it.” Jemma clutched her Stone. “Thank you, Papa.”
Sometimes
, she thought as Nox closed the door,
he seems so ordinary. It’s hard to think that he could possibly do anything to harm me
. But he
had
harmed her. Had torn her away from her real family. She steeled her heart and closed her eyes, knowing that she must wait yet again for a safe amount of time, until he was asleep. Then she could make her move.
Never had she imagined it could be so easy to escape the castle. Being Outside felt completely natural, as if she had been there her whole life. The air was part of her; the breeze defined the edges of her skin, the sound of it in the trees invigorated her bones. Golden light dappled everywhere, and danced in her veins. She was free! Free at last to twirl and swirl, to run from the forest and out under the Mistless sky, the sky Marsh had described so often. Then she was standing on a cliff, looking down at a sparkling expanse of water the color of her Stone, the color of her eyes.…
“Jemma … Jemma!” A voice lilted from behind her. She wheeled around. A woman was running toward her, armsoutstretched, auburn hair streaming like a sunlit flag. The woman began to sing, the song beautifully familiar, lilting like a lullaby: “Jemma—my darling angel!” Jemma was flying then, over a field of flaxen waves, cloud shadows racing her, and then everything turned lilac-colored, the lilac of the shawl the woman was wearing—the same shawl Marsh had wrapped the books in! Jemma felt its softness on her cheek, breathed in its fragrance as strong arms held her, safe at last.… But—how could this be? Wasn’t the shawl at the castle, under her mattress with the books …?
The sky blackened. Clouds, playful only moments ago, menaced and lowered. A bell tolled. One … Wind whipped up, pulling her away. Two … The woman’s arms were letting go.…
Jemma woke on the last strike of three, clutching her Stone. Pie was tugging at her clothes. Noodle, tangled in her hair, was nipping her ears. Neither the storm outside nor the rats’ attempts to wake her had broken into her sleep.
“Oh,
no
! The night’s half over—we must fly!”
Jemma leapt out of bed, tied her Stone around her neck, and yanked on her weekday boots. Then she grabbed the lilac pouch from under her mattress, knotted it around her waist, and fled from her room, with Noodle in one pocket, Pie in the other. The Stone dangled from her neck, like an aquamarine beacon lighting her way to a new life.
CHAPTER NINE
Behind the Third Door
Monday, early hours
Jemma crept up to Drudge’s sleeping alcove just inside the Corridor of the Dungeons. A wire was strung across it, on which his tattered velvet jacket and doublet hung like a makeshift curtain. She winced as she pulled
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