Page 21

From opposite ends of the hall, the unknown boy and I traded smiles. Warmth rushed through me, the kind of connection that I’d only felt with Punk until then.

Our birds floated around each other, trying to outdo the other, much to the guard’s increasing frustration. The performance wore on his mental stamina, and he thunked down the mezzanine, tracking the direction our birds had flown.

I slapped my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing. The boy shook with silent giggles.

Without warning, he lurched forward. It dawned on me that he was about to scurry over here, his face ripe with glee. In spite what we’d just done, his enthusiasm bordered on being antsy. Aggressive, as if he couldn’t help himself.

I flapped my palms wildly, halting him. His face creased, clearly upset. He might cause a scene if I didn’t tame that look quickly.

I pointed to my chest, then jabbed my thumb toward the window above us, indicating that I had to get out of here. I pressed my palms together, begging him not come near and alert the guard.

The young man looked crestfallen and tried once more to charge my way.

This time, I jammed my palm into the air, commanding him to stay.

He did, nibbling his wide lip. He’d known I’d been hiding from the guard, though he hadn’t known why, and maybe he hadn’t cared. He understood that I needed to leave. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he hoped to tag along.

Who was he? A servant?

Why was he helping me?

It didn’t matter. He had to let me go.

The problem was, my detour had left me someplace unfamiliar within the castle. Where did I go from here?

A new determination lit the young man’s expression. He glanced up to a strand of ribbons hanging from the ceiling.

I hadn’t noticed them before. Streamers in various colors swayed from the rafters, looping toward different areas. What purpose did they serve?

When his eyes latched onto one of the garlands—a yellow one—he pointed along its length. I squinted, so he motioned to it again and again and...oh!

I mouthed,Thank you. I didn’t know if the young man could read my words from far away, until he mustered a forlorn smile.

I offered an apologetic grin and wiggled my fingers at him. He waved good-bye, too.

Getting to my feet, I dashed across the mezzanine while hunching over, feeling guilty for leaving him. Weird, since that emotion had no place in my inventory.

I hurried, cutting through the paneled grid of halls. The yellow garlands deposited me right where I’d begun, close to the servants’ entrance.

Huh. Except the ribbons bypassed the threshold, extending farther down the passage.

Orange plumage dropped in front of me.

I jumped back, clutching my chest. “Dammit, Punk. Don’t do that.”

She tweeted, equally aggravated, and swiveled toward the exit.

I hesitated, noticing how the ribbons vanished toward a large recess. Remembering the layout of the training yard, I did something stupid, ignoring the door to freedom and hastening toward another opening.

Glancing around the corner, I drew in a giddy breath, grasping the doorframe.

The armory. I leaned sideways into the room, my eyes darting from war hammers to broadswords. Maces, spears, lances, pikes, javelins. Shields, spikes, chains. Serrated and rippled blades. Ornamented hilts.

Visored helms, gauntlets, and other pieces of armor.

And axes. I wondered how they looked up close, how they’d been shaped and—

Something snatched my hood, tugging me back into the corridor.