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As the door closed behind them, its bolt driven securely into place, dire growls and groaning pierced the air. Dulce trailed Reed down a shadowy narrow staircase, and when bodies suddenly slammed into the door, she jerked.

“At least we’re safe.” She sighed, her heart slowing a fraction.

“A more polite word for trapped .”

“Or that.”

“But alive.” He glanced back over his shoulder at her with a wink.

Yet for how long? If they didn’t die within this castle’s walls, then they would surely perish away with the remainder of the land if they didn’t stop La Bisou Morte.

Dulce didn’t understand why anyone would do this.

Once the world was nothing but darkness, where would the witch go? Wouldn’t she die too?

They reached the bottom of the cellar, lighting candles by the dim light of a window barely large enough for a person to fit through.

A spark of hope ignited in Dulce’s chest. The place must’ve been a spell room once.

Flowers rested withered in their vases, a cauldron hung in a corner, unfilled.

A shelf where books might’ve once lingered stood without a single tome, abandoned cobwebs its only decoration now.

Jars lined another, mostly empty or broken.

Dulce could use some of the dried herbs for spells, but she didn’t think any would help them escape the castle.

Reed opened the window. “Seems we have our escape route, if we want it.”

Night was falling beyond the castle as a wolf howled in the distance. Dulce worried for Toffee, left outside to graze, knowing she would have fled by now.

“We might as well stay the night down here,” Dulce decided. “Perhaps this room holds something the witch valued enough that it will lead us to her.”

“We could go back to our original plan and question the Duke directly if we have nothing else to go on,” Reed suggested.

“You would risk that?”

“Only for you.”

Her heart raced at Reed’s admission. However, with the elixir gone, she couldn’t disguise herself to frighten the bastard into telling her anything.

Not to mention it would take days to return to Alder Bay.

It was time they didn’t have to waste, especially provided that the Duke had worn the necklace and wouldn’t know anything that La Bisou Morte didn’t want him to know—he was one of her puppets, after all.

No amount of money or bargains could get him to reveal any answers in that case.

“If I can modify the location spell soon, we can find the witch,” Dulce finally said.

“And once we do?” Reed was watching Dulce carefully now. “I try not to pry, Majesty, but curiosity is getting the better of me, I must admit.”

“Once we find her.” Dulce bit the inside of her cheek, a pit forming in her stomach.

“If she doesn’t strip away the curse she cast, I will have to end her life with this.

It wasn’t easy to make, and it will only work on the most powerful of witches.

That is, if I made it right. I followed the instructions in my mother’s spell book back at the manor.

” She held up a vial of a dark purple liquid swirling within the glass.

“One thing at a time.” Sympathy shone in Reed’s eyes, and he took her hand, leading Dulce to the dusty sofa. “For now, let’s eat the fine meal you have in your pocket.” He smirked.

“Fine meal, indeed.” She reached inside her overcoat pocket and fished out several nuts and berries. “Here you go, good sir. ”

Reed chuckled and sat beside her, opening the canteen of water and offering it to her.

“So, since you’re quite the powerful witch yourself, can you turn one berry into a whole jar of jam?”

“If only.” She tried to smile but failed. “I’m sorry things have gone much worse than I’d expected. I’m sure a more experienced witch could have…” Her mother could have.

“Hey, we found a way out of there—it’s not all bad.” He grasped her face, and Dulce leaned toward him, wanting desperately to close the distance between them, to think of anything other than her failure, when a deep croak came from the other side of the room, and she leapt to her feet.

Reed darted toward a cabinet hanging on the wall beside one of the shelves. As he opened the door, a raven burst out, the music of its deep gurgling croak filling the room.

Dulce gasped as Reed cursed and leapt back. “I would ask how it managed to remain alive all this time,” he grunted as he grabbed a broom in the corner and lifted it, “but nothing about this place makes sense.”

“Fair warning,” the raven trilled. “My master doesn’t take kindly to snooping thieves.”

Her eyes widened. It speaks . “Do you know where she is?”

“If my master is what you seek, prepare to meet doom and defeat.”

“You do realize your master has abandoned you,” Reed pointed out, the broom in his grasp still raised, prepared to swing. “For quite a while, by the looks of it.”

“My master would do no such thing. ”

“She’s your new master now.” Reed motioned toward Dulce.

What a clever notion, something she hadn’t thought to try. “This is true ,” Dulce lied and held up the Duke’s necklace. “Your master gave this to me so you would understand she wished you to follow our orders now.”

The raven tilted its head, regarding her with one beady eye, then after a long moment, it at last bowed. “Master.”

“Would you happen to know how to pacify the animals upstairs?” Reed asked, lowering the broom.

“Certainly. Is that a request?”

“Yes,” Reed demanded.

The raven nodded and flew not out the open window but through the wall with an ear-piercing shriek.