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“One of our companions is dealing with them.”

“You sacrificed him for me? Skiro must be truly desperate.”

“We sacrificed no one,” I say. “He’s very capable. Now hurry. We have to get you through the wardrobe.”

The healer’s doubt suddenly turns to hope. “You’re really going to get me out of here.”

“Yes,” I assure her.

“All right.”

Our pace picks up. We race past confused servants who don’t recognize us, and we only make it halfway down the hall when an alarm sounds—large bells tolling from far overhead.

They know she’s gone.

We sprint for the next staircase, skipping steps, racing for the top. Back down a level, I hear an uproar go through the servants. Someone shouts, “That way!”

We’re being followed.

My legs burn. Serutha is slower without shoes on the hard floor. But I don’t have time to think of her comfort. Temra doesn’t have time. Kellyn doesn’t have time.

When we finally reach the attic, I’m ready to collapse, but I shuffle along the floor, trying to find the broken door.

“Here!” Petrik exclaims, shoving it aside, not bothering to place it back over. Speed is our number one concern now.

We grab our weapons before weaving through the dark, trying to find the damned wardrobe.

Serutha winces as she steps on broken glass from the frame I stepped on earlier. I pick her up in one motion, try to retrace my steps.

“Ow,” she says as she bumps into something. Or rather, I bump her into something.

I don’t apologize.

“It’s here, Ziva,” Petrik says. He throws open the wardrobe. Steps sound back out in the hall, growing closer.

Serutha eyes the painting, but she must already know what it is. She says, “Thank you.”

“Just save my sister, please.”

Serutha stands on the toes of one foot to account for the glass and steps into the wardrobe and through the portrait.

I turn around, eyeing the way we came.

“What are you doing?” Petrik asks. “We have to go.”

“Where is Kellyn?”

“You don’t know?” His voice softens, but the question is still infuriating.

“How would I know, Petrik? He disappeared from both our sights ten minutes ago!”

“Ziva, he’s not coming back.”

“What?”

“He was the distraction so we could save Temra. They’ll have caught him by now.”

“No! He’s a master swordsman. He said he’d meet us here.”