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Still, I do not need a tongue for her to read the rage in my eyes.

Her lips turn up at the edges, and I see that she isn’t so different from before. She doesn’t want me dead, because once dead I can no longer suffer.

“The prince doesn’t even know what you are,” she says with a glance toward Oak. “Barely one of the Folk. Nothing but a manikin, little more than the stock left behind when a changeling is taken, a thing meant to wither and die.”

Despite myself, my gaze goes to Oak. To see if he understands. But I cannot read anything but pity on his face.

I might be only sticks and snow and hag magic, but at least I did not come from her.

I am no one’s child.

That makes me smile, showing red teeth.

“My lady,” says King Hurclaw. “The sooner Prince Oak sees his father released, the sooner we will have what we want.”

Lady Nore gives him a narrow-eyed look. I wonder if the troll king realizes how awful she can be, and if he isn’t careful, how awful she will be to him.

But for now, she obediently waves at the guards. “One of you, lock her in the dungeon, wicked child that she is, that she may think on her choices. Prince Oak and I have much to discuss. Perhaps he will join us at the table.”

One of the ex-falcons comes to stand behind me. “Move.”

I begin to walk unsteadily toward the doors. The throb of my tongue in my mouth is horrible, but the bleeding has ebbed. I am still drinking saliva that tastes like pennies but no longer feeling as though I am drowning in it.

“I would say that you lost yourself along the way, but you lost yourself far before that,” the storm hag tells me as I pass her. “Wake up, little bird.”

I open my mouth, to remind her that what I’ve lost is mytongueand perhaps my hope.

She grimaces, and for a moment, a fresh wave of fear and dizziness passes over me. It must be very bad to make Bogdana wince.

“Move,” the guard repeats, shoving between my shoulder blades.

It’s not until we make it to the hall that I glance behind me. Up into the purple eyes of Hyacinthe.

CHAPTER

16

For a moment, we just stare at each other.

“I told you it would be wise to send me here, and since you gave me no commands to contradict it, I came,” Hyacinthe says, low, so only I can hear.

I cannot speak. Staggering a little, I lean against the wall. The pain is hard to think past, and I am not sure if he is on my side or not.

“Be glad I did,” he says, swinging his spear toward me, the point inches from my throat. “Folk are watching. Move.”

I turn my back on him and walk. He makes a show of shoving me into going faster, and I do not have to pretend to stumble.

Several times, I try to turn, to catch his eye, so I can read the intention there, but each time he pushes me so that I must resume walking.

“Is Tiernan with you?” he asks when we reach the prison gate.

Loyal, that’s what Hyacinthe called himself. Loyal to Oak’s father. Hopefully loyal to me. Maybe loyal to Tiernan, too, in a way. Hyacinthe didn’t trust Oak’s honey-tongued charm. Maybe he wants to save Tiernan from it.

I nod.

Together we march down the icy passageways, to the prisons. Dug down into the frozen ground, they stink of iron and wet stone. “He’s the one with Mellith’s heart?”

A dangerous question. Given Hyacinthe’s dislike of Oak, I am not sure whether he would like to see Lady Nore get what she wants or not. Nor am I surewhatexactly Tiernan has. Also I am finding it hard to concentrate with the pain in my mouth.