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J arrett was alone in the lab the following morning.

I dropped into the chair and held out my sore left arm.

Upon removing my bandage and revealing the irritated cuts, Jarret let out a sigh. “Are you sure you want to continue the collection from this arm? It’s pretty red. There is going to be scarring if we don’t let it heal.”

It was looking like I’d been attacked by an angry cat …

or more like an unfeeling Ashlora . But I had my reasons.

“Yes, just use the same one. If I lose this arm, I will still have one healthy arm remaining.” I gave a pinched smile.

While I meant it as a joke, in truth, I wondered if that was a reality I might face after two more moon cycles.

The limb ached uncomfortably, especially when cleaning, and I didn’t want to manage two throbbing arms.

With reluctance, he continued preparing my left arm.

“Jarrett, have you seen Claire?” I asked. I had looked for her before retiring to my room the night before, but she was still absent.

He stiffened at the question. His eyes flicked to me before looking away. “She should be back in her room now.” There was a dark undertone in his words that sent a flash of panic to my heart.

“Where has she been? Is she all right?”

He glanced over his shoulder toward the back room, then softened his voice. “You better ask her yourself.”

As soon as my bandage was secure, I raced back down to the first floor.

Claire’s door was slightly ajar. I knocked softly and pushed in. “Claire?”

She was sitting up in her bed, knees tucked to her chest, her complexion pale. A journal laid closed on the bed beside her. “I’ll be up to help you soon.” Her voice was raspy. She avoided my gaze, but it was obvious her eyes were puffy and red from crying.

“No. I am not here for that,” I said, stepping further into the room. “Claire, are you all right? What happened?” My eyes caught on fresh bruises around her wrist. It looked as if she’d been bound. “Talk to me,” I pleaded, lowering myself onto the edge of her bed.

Shifting her face away, strands of hair swept down across her eyes. “Jesmine had me help her.” She paused. “I’ll be better this afternoon. I can help you then.”

“Claire, I am not concerned about the cleaning. I am concerned about you . What do you mean, she had you help her?”

“Can we talk about this later?” she whispered, still avoiding eye contact.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to leave, but I also didn’t want to push when she was in such a fragile state. “Sure. Of course.” I rose to leave. “Is there anything I can get you?”

She shook her head, keeping her face shielded.

I stood a moment longer in case she changed her mind, but she had asked for privacy and I wanted to respect that. “Take all the time you need. I’ve got the guests’ floor covered.”

I gently pulled the door closed behind me.

I didn’t need to know the details of what had been done to Claire to know that I had to find a way to get us out of here. The idea of earning my freedom was obviously hopeless.

I need to be proactive; I need an escape plan.

Something Lord Embers said in the library surfaced in my mind. ‘How long is your service required?’ he had asked.

Required.

In the blood oath I signed and sealed, the terms only spoke of fulfilling my duties toward restoring the ward …

it never mentioned anything about remaining as a servant.

There was nothing promised about my time after the warding was complete.

Maybe it was agreed on between Jesmine and the Crown …

but it was never detailed in the oath—I never spoke those words when I signed in blood.

So, in theory, when the work on the blood ward was complete, I would no longer be held by the oath to stay at the fortress—I could break free. Escape! … Or at least, I hoped that was the truth of it. Regardless, what did I have to lose?

When the ward is restored, I am going to escape.

It was fortunate that we had been assigned to cleaning the library. I made quick work of tidying the guest chambers and made my way to the stacks.

There had to be a map somewhere. Traveling here by fire tree made the exact location of the Obsidian Fortress obscure. I knew we were deep in the Shadow Wilds, but that was the extent of my knowledge.

If I was going to escape, I might not be able to use the fire tree to return.

During our travels here, when Arden pulled the sticks from the hidden compartment, I suspected the colored strings tying the branches indicated what tree you would travel to—black string for the Obsidian Fortress—but I didn’t know what color related to the tree we had come from.

If I simply guessed, I could accidentally end up in the center of an Ashloran city.

A map would help me locate the nearest town, one that wasn’t full of Ashlora, because landing in the middle of enemy territory wouldn’t help my chances of survival. I needed a friendly human town to escape to.

In the library, there was a section of large documents lining the outer walls. That was where I started my search.

Straightaway, I located a section of maps.

And there were plenty of maps. To my irritation, however, the diagrams were of every region of our continent, Autrela, except for the Shadow Wilds.

Any map that included the forest just showed a widespread area of trees, with no hint that the Obsidian Fortress existed.

I’d even run across a fairly detailed floor plan of the Fernton palace—which I briefly pondered why the Ashlora would need, but didn’t have time to concern myself with it.

By the end of the day, I had … nothing.

Defeated, I slunk out of the library.

Claire was making her way up the stairwell as I descended. She paused a few steps away.

“Dinner was delivered a few moments ago,” she murmured, head lowered. “I thought you might want to eat while it was still warm.”

I thanked her, but her feet stayed planted. “Do you want company?” I asked.

To my surprise, she nodded.

Quietly, I followed her back to the first floor.

A tray of mushy vegetables, one slimy cut of meat, and a hard chunk of bread had been left on my chair. I collected my tray and headed back to join Claire in her room.

We picked at our food.

Several moments passed before Claire broke the silence. “She uses me to catch Slips for her experiments.”

“What?! You mean this has happened before?” It kept getting worse.

She paused, working up the courage to continue.

“I’m bound and taken into the Wilds. It only takes a few hours, sometimes just minutes …

before the shadows rush in.” Her voice cracked.

“Once they possess my body, I’m taken to the dungeon, where Jesmine …

extracts them, trapping them for her experiments. ”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing—didn’t know what to say. “Is it painful?” I asked.

She just shrugged.

My heart broke for her. Claire’s missing finger and the scar on her head suddenly made sense.

How could anyone be so cruel to such an innocent soul?

I wanted to help her, give her reassurance.

The confession that I was planning to escape and would take her with me was ready to cross my lips—and then I thought of Clay. Confiding in him had been my downfall.

I bit my tongue and looked down at my mother’s bracelet.

“I should be dead,” Claire said.

I stopped spinning the beads. “What do you mean?”

“I was brought here as a sacrifice—that was the payment my mother agreed to. A sacrifice, so Jesmine could restore her energy.” An image of the dead teenage boy flashed in my head.

Claire continued, “But when she tested me, she found I had a touch of Dewhirl blood. She said it was enough to make burning my life intolerable. Instead, she keeps me as a servant.”

“I didn’t know.” I swallowed hard, then cracked a smile and tried to lighten the mood. “Part Dewhirl. You’re the first I’ve ever met.”

“I never knew either,” she said.

We didn’t talk any more about what Jesmine had done to her. But Claire didn’t ask me to leave, and I sensed she desired company.

Grabbing a hairbrush from her dresser, I sat beside her. “My mother used to do this when I was having a bad day. May I?”

With a nod, she agreed, and I ran the bristles through her wavy brunette strands.

“My mother told stories,” Claire said in a soft voice. “She always had a story to share, no matter the situation. I wrote them down and now make some of my own … about how it would be if I were home. Other times I just write to keep track of memories I don’t want to lose.”

“Is that the journal I saw before?” I wove sections of her hair together, one over the other.

She nodded, “Yeah, it grounds me. Helps me feel safe … even though I know it’s not real.”

I tied off the end of her braid. “It may not be real, but I think it sounds nice.” I hesitated a moment, then asked, “Do you want to share any?”

I was surprised when she pulled the journal out from under her pillow and began to read a story. It was about a grumpy farmer who lost his cat. Claire’s gentle voice filled the room, her mood lifting as she read.

At one point, she even laughed.

We continued to share tales of our childhood, Claire visibly warming to me as the time passed.

When our eyelids grew heavy, I returned to my room.

A spark had been ignited in me from hearing Claire’s confession of what had been done to her. A sense of urgency incited.

I need an escape plan for both of us. It will be harder for the two of us to sneak away unnoticed, but I like the thought of having Claire make the journey with me.

I worked up a list of the details I needed to figure out. But how to get beyond the fortress walls was a puzzle I couldn’t solve—the entrances were warded.

I resolved that some parts of my plan would have to be improvised when the right opportunity presented itself. Once we cleared this prison, chances were high that we would have to trek through the cursed canopy of the Shadow Wilds.

I need the elixir, I thought . A huge part of my escape plan hinged on obtaining more of the mixture Arden and I took.

My next mission was to find that concoction.