Ravenous (19 page)

Vincali glares at him, then straightens his back and marches down the alley, splashing through the water to reach the street not clogged with townspeople. King Oliver is too lenient. If it were me, I'd have locked Vincali in the dungeon and thrown the key over the cliff.

King Oliver lets out a deep breath as soon as Vincali vanishes from sight. “Now, all of you, please leave the city before it's too late. Our encampment is on higher ground, and we will gladly share our tents and food with you.”

As the crowd thins, I finally manage to turn around. Dalen stands exposed in the middle of the Belladoman streets. He smiles crookedly and shrugs.

“How . . . ,” I start, unsure what to say and still completely baffled as to how or why he is here.

“I heard the water rising. People were streaming past the barn, fleeing as soon as the quakes began. I knew you were in the tunnels, and you weren't back yet. I had to get help. I figured they”—he points over his shoulder to Ren and the king—“would be the least likely to want to chop me into parts and sell me at the market, and the most likely to be willing to help you. Besides, the plan was to go to them anyway. Did you really expect me to hide in safety while you drowned?”

I throw my arms around Dalen's neck.

“Thank you,” I say, and bury my face in his shoulder. Half to keep myself from crying, and the other half to keep myself from yelling at him for being so careless with his own life.

NOW THAT REN AND KING OLIVER KNOW I'M IN THE CITY, I RETURN WITH
them and Dalen to their camp, right after rescuing the discarded amulet from the muck. It might come in handy later.

The Bryrian tents are drier and warmer than our barn. And they have fresh clothes and real food. A respite from jerky, stale bread, and overripe fruit is more than welcome, and my belly rumbles when they sit me, now clad in a dry change of clothes, in front of a fire and put a bowl of chicken stew in my hands.

Dalen didn't tell them I stole the map. All they know is that I'm here, but not why. Ren's eyes overflow with questions, only reined in by the king's restraining hand on his shoulder.

“Let the girl eat first—then we will chat,” he says, and I
smile gratefully over my stew. I always did like King Oliver, even if he is a little too kind sometimes.

Once my belly is full, I place my bowl on the table, pull the blanket they've lent me close, and wait for the barrage of questions to start.

“We were surprised to find you in Belladoma, Greta,” King Oliver says. “I never dreamed you would venture near here.”

I shrug. “Things change.” It's difficult to look them directly in the eyes. I don't want to see their expressions, or the disappointment there, nor do I want to betray the pain in my own. Or the confusion. I am no longer so certain how I feel about the Belladomans I once professed to hate.

“Why did you leave Bryre?” Ren asks. The hurt in his voice is palpable.

“I was needed elsewhere.”

“More to the point, how did you find the cornucopia? How did you even know about it?” King Oliver asks. “We have been searching for it for months. You can imagine our surprise when you appeared along with the cornucopia.”

What's left to lose? They have the cornucopia. I need their help to save my brother, and I've lost the only thing I had to bargain with. Even if they didn't believe me before, I may as well tell them everything. The whole truth is the only thing that might convince them to help me now.

“You had a map, one a prisoner gave you. You couldn't decipher it, but I stole it and we”—I point to Dalen and myself—“solved it.”

Ren gasps. “
You
took the map? Did you set our horses to the hills, too?”

I fidget. “Yes, I did. I need the cornucopia desperately. I've been searching for it for weeks now too.”

“But what could you possibly need the cornucopia for?” Ren says. “If you'd stayed in Bryre, you'd have plenty of food. We'd never let you starve. I don't understand.”

“Ren,” King Oliver says, “wait. Something else is going on, isn't it, Greta? Does this have anything to do with the story of your lost brother?”

I nod miserably. “It wasn't a story, and I'm sorry I stole the map,” I say, clenching and unclenching my fists. “I did it for Hans, you see. My brother. Everything was for Hans.”

“You really have a brother?” Ren asks. “Why didn't you ever bring him with you to our meetings? He would've been as welcome as you.” His voice grows softer. “Why didn't you tell us about him before he went missing?”

“I made a rule not to talk about my family. Our parents”—I swallow the lump in my throat—“disappeared a few months before the girls in Bryre began to get sick. It's just been Hans and me since then. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want him to get taken away. We . . . we thought they'd come back. They never did. They ran afoul of Ensel and were thrown off the cliff.” I wipe a tear from my cheek.

“My silence was to protect my brother. I was afraid you would make us both go to an orphanage for our own good, and I couldn't risk it. By the time I decided I could trust you, it was far too late to say anything. But then he was
stolen from our home by a witch. She moves around the forest in a hut thatched with feathers that walks on chicken legs. She's going to eat Hans unless I bring her the cornucopia. That's why I came to you at the palace that day begging for help. That's why I left Bryre, and why I had to take that map. Hans's life was at stake.”

Is
still
at stake, and more at risk with every second I waste here.

“That is a grave situation indeed,” says the king. Firelight dances across his face, making his graying hair appear lighter than it really is. “And most unfortunate. We cannot hand over the cornucopia to a witch. Not when there's an entire city of people who need to eat.”

This is what I feared he'd say.

“Then you understand why I chose not to tell you. But I know the witch cannot be trusted. I need your assistance, if there's any hope of defeating her and getting my brother back. I'd planned to give the cornucopia to you in exchange once I found it.”

Dalen clears his throat. “It is not only Hans's life at stake, I'm afraid. My village took Greta captive, and as punishment for the delay, the witch burned our village to the ground. She's threatened to return for all the hybrid children if Greta does not complete her task.”

“She'll come for me, too, and Dalen. She's even begun to take children from Belladoma. No one will be safe if you don't help me,” I say.

“I am sorry I doubted you, Greta. Your request for help looked like a ploy to delay us. I should have trusted you
more—then perhaps we could have avoided this whole situation.” The king sighs. “But what's done is done, and now we can simply take our guards and force her to return Hans.”

I shake my head. “That won't work. She's pure evil, and has just as many tricks as the wizard ever did. Manpower won't impress her, and it certainly won't stop her.”

“Then we'll have to sneak in and rescue Hans and any other children when she leaves the house,” Ren says.

I laugh without mirth. “How do you think I struck the deal with her in the first place? She caught me, and now she knows my face and can track Hans and me. No, she'll just find us again. The only way for him to be safe while she still lives is if she gives him up willingly.”

“Which she won't do without the cornucopia,” Dalen says. “She tracked Greta down when she was in my village, and then again here at the old barn where we've been staying. She's already started feeding on Belladoma's children and is holding at least two right now. I don't doubt for a second she will kill many more if we don't stop her.”

The memory of the bones in the woods near the cliff makes me shiver.

“We can't give in to her demands,” Ren says. “That's crazy.”

“I'm not suggesting we do,” I say. “You're both more familiar with magic than me. I had hoped you'd have some idea about how to get rid of her. She didn't bother this region before because of wards the wizard set up. Maybe something else can banish her again. Sire, for years you sought a means of ridding your city of the wizard. Surely you came
across something that might help.”

“Your Majesty,” calls a voice from the entrance to the large tent. One of Bryre's soldiers stands in the doorway. “I'm sorry to interrupt, but the captain has arrived. You sent for him earlier?”

“I did indeed.” King Oliver turns back to us. “Please excuse us for a moment. The captain will ensure Vincali removes himself from Belladoma. I need to speak with him first. Ren, come with me. We'll be right back.”

Ren and King Oliver confer with their captain about sending more troops to force Vincali to leave as instructed. Dalen and I remain in the tent with a guard posted outside. No doubt they fear I will run off or steal something from the them again.

I hate waiting. I fiddle with my mother's necklace and pace in front of the fire pit.

“Greta, you'll wear a hole in the ground. Come sit. We'll think of something.”

I sigh at Dalen. “What will we think of that we haven't already? If the king doesn't know of something that might stop the witch, then the only way to get Hans back is to exchange the cornucopia for him. We can't reason with her, or appeal to her kindness.”

Dalen laughs, which only makes me frown more. “I had no intention of suggesting that. But I think I've found something that will interest you. Come here and I'll show you.”

I realize he holds the book of fairy tales in his hands. It feels like a lifetime ago that I read to him in the hybrid village. I left the book with him in the barn. My curiosity
piqued, I sit next to Dalen on a bench near the fire.

“Fine. What do you have to show me?”

He grins, but I can't imagine what could make him happy when everything has gone wrong. “This,” he says, pointing to a page in the book. “Sound familiar?”

I stare at the page, more confused than ever at first, until I begin to read.
There once was a witch who lived in the woods
, it begins. I jerk upright, now paying full attention to the details of the story. I remember I started this one and could not bear to finish it when we were in the hybrid village. The witch in the story wasn't a kind one, and she had a taste for children. She also had a house on chicken legs. . . .

“Look here,” Dalen says, then reads aloud. “‘The witch hid her own heart in the house, and brought it to life with a spell of the darkest magic, forging a bond between herself and the house.'” He grins. “This is your witch. I'd almost forgotten about how you began reading the story and couldn't finish. I completed my task early this afternoon and thought I'd read a fairy tale while I waited for you to arrive. Then I realized there might be a clue here.”

I pore over the words again, imprinting them on my memory. “Her heart is in the house. . . . What if we could find it? We could destroy it and free Hans!”

“She's a witch; her magic could kill you.”

I take a deep breath, dizzy with certainty. “I am dead anyway if we don't destroy her.”

Dalen glances again at the book. “The tricky thing will be determining where her heart is hidden. We'd need to get it right on the first try—otherwise all we'll do is anger her.
That won't be a good plan if we want to stay alive.”

I shudder. “No, it would not.”

“Keep reading and see if you find any more hints. I did not, but you look at things differently. Perhaps you will.”

I raise an eyebrow but do as he suggests and read the rest of the story. It picks up after the first section I read so many weeks ago—those children managed to flee, but this time two spoiled children become entangled with the witch, happening upon her and the chicken hut in the forest by accident. They ran away from home because their poor, hardworking father couldn't afford to buy them sweets, so they set out in search of new parents. Instead, they found the witch.

And she found them delicious.

Fairy tales. They never do end well.

But the tale reveals no clues to where her heart is hidden. The children in the story never figured it out. I close my fingers over my mother's locket absently, then suddenly jolt upright.

“What is it?” Dalen asks.

I put my hand into my pocket and pull out the amulet I took from Vincali. It glows red in my palm, yet it's lighter than I expected. I look up at Dalen.

“This is how we'll destroy her.”

Dalen's eyes sparkle and he pulls the amulet from my hand. “What is this?”

“Remember the flashes of light and smoke from when we fled the inn?”

He nods.

“Vincali was using this to try to burn us out. This is also what he used to set fire to the threshing house where he had Ren and King Oliver captive. Burned the cloak right off my back. He tried to use it in the alley earlier today, but I caught him off guard and took it.”

Dalen turns it over in his hands, frowning. On the back is an engraving of a bird with spread wings and flames on the edges. “I've seen this before, though never on an amulet, only in ancient history books. It's the symbol of the hybrid queen, the Phoenix.”

“How would Vincali have gotten his hands on that?” I take it back from him. “Or rather, the wizard. I believe Vincali found it in his old cottage.”

“It is old, whatever it is. And it has fire magic?” He shakes his head. “The Phoenix Queen was associated with fire; whoever made it must have known that and marked it because it is so powerful.”

“It's dangerous.”

He folds the amulet into my hands and squeezes. “Whatever you do, Greta, keep this close, and don't let anyone take it from you.”

“I won't. I promise.”

When Ren and King Oliver return to the tent, the time for hesitation and apologies is over. I march up to them, sure now that I know what to do.

“I know how to destroy that witch, and I need your help to do it.”