The Stolen Heir by Holly Black

Living in the mortal world as I did, I have some idea, but there’s no point in telling her that. Better get her mind away from what could happen. “Wait here.”

She scrubs a hand over her face. “You have to help me.”

I find Hyacinthe’s cell at the end of the corridor. He’s sitting on the floor, on a carpet of hay. Beside him is a tray of oranges and sweetmeats, along with a bowl of wine set down so that he might lap from it like a dog. He looks up at me in surprise, his amethyst eyes wide. I am surprised, too, because he is no longer bridled.

“Where is it?” I blurt out, terrified that it is in the possession of Queen Annet.

“The bridle?” He rubs his cheek against his wing. I see a few fresh feathers at his throat. The curse is spreading slowly, but it is spreading. “The prince was afraid of it falling into the hands of the Court of Moths, so he had Tiernan remove it.”

“Oak has it?” I ask, wondering if that was the real reason he ordered it taken off. Wondering what he was planning on doing with it.

Hyacinthe nods. “I suppose.” Then he sighs. “All I know is that I don’t have to wear it, at least until we depart the Court of Moths. Are we leaving? Is that why you’re here?”

I shake my head. “Has Queen Annet asked anything of you?”

He takes two steps closer to the bars. “I think she wishes to delay Oak long enough to determine if there’s a profit in returning him to the High Court, but that’s only from what I overheard the guards saying.”

“You think his sister wants him back?”

Hyacinthe shrugs. “Trussing him up and handing him over could bring Queen Annet some reward if Jude does, but it would not do to cross her if she and the High King turn out to support his mission. Discovering what they want takes time, hence the delay.”

I nod, calculating. “If Elfhame wants to stop us . . .”

If the High Court makes a captive out of the prince, from love or anger, then who will stop Lady Nore? Will I be held as well? And if not, then how long before Bogdana finds me?

“I don’t know,” he says in answer to one or all the questions I do not ask.

I lower my voice even further. “Tell me about the prince’s powers as a gancanagh? And what Lady Nore sent in her message? You’re not constrained by the bridle.”

“Free me,” he says, eyes intent. “Free me, and I will tell you all I know.”

Of course. Why else try to interest me in the information he had? Not for my benefit. He wanted to escape.

I ought to focus on my own survival. This isn’t what I came to the prisons for. Helping Hyacinthe will only make it certain that I wear the bridle myself.

And yet, I do not know how I can turn and walk away from him, leaving him in a cage. Neither Oak nor Tiernan were cruel to him when he was their prisoner, and still I was horrified. The Court of Moths could be so much worse.

Oak would never forgive me, though.

Unless . . . he never found out that I was the one who helped Hyacinthe escape. No one saw me come in here, save for Jack of the Lakes. And Jack can hardly tell anyone, since he had a part in it.

Perhaps I could keep this secret, as Oak kept secrets from me.

“Promise you will tell no one—especially not Lady Nore—anything of Oak, or me, or Tiernan that would put us in danger or expose our plans.” I try to convince myself that this plan might be to the prince’s advantage and that he would benefit if Queen Annet’s schemes were at least partially thwarted. After all, if Hyacinthe goes missing from her prisons after she insisted on keeping him, she can hardly call herself a good host.

If Oak finds out, he will not see my actions in that light. He’ll believe that I kissed him to divert his attention from the way I was stabbing him in the back. He’ll believe that everything Tiernan ever said about me was true.

But if I do nothing, then Queen Annet is likely to keep Hyacinthe, in the hopes she can detain Oak or lure him to return to her Court. I cannot stand the idea of anyone being kept as I was, locked away and helpless.

“Help me escape and I will tell no one—especially not Lady Nore— anything of you, or Oak, or Tiernan that would put you in any danger or expose your plans,” Hyacinthe vows prettily and in full.

The gravity of this moment settles heavily on my shoulders.

“So how do I get you out?” I ask, trying to focus on that and not the dread I suddenly feel at taking fate in my own hand, mine and Hyacinthe’s. I study the stalagmites instead, looking for a seam. “These jaws must open somehow, but I can’t see the way.”

Hyacinthe puts his fingers through the gap in the teethlike bars and gestures toward the ceiling. “There’s something up there, written in the stone. One of the guards looked up when he spoke, like he was reading. He shuffled his feet, too, as though there’s a particular place to stand.”

“You didn’t hear what he said?” I ask, incredulous.

He shakes his head. “That must be part of the enchantment. I saw his mouth move, but there was no sound.”

I squint up and spot a few scratchy, thin lines of writing. I take two steps back, and am able to make it out. It is no password to open the teethlike bars, however. It’s a riddle. And as I look, I note a different one above each of the cells.

I suppose that if each chamber requires a different word or phrase to open or close, it’d be useful to have a reminder, especially with new guards coming in all the time. Not everyone’s memory is keen, and there’s a risk that should a word be forgotten, the cell would cease to work forevermore.