“Thing? That thing is my past!” I shoved him, struggling to get to her again, but he refused to get out of my way.
“Okay, let’s say for the sake of insane arguments that I believe that you believe that this monster is somehow from your past. She’s locked in Phantombronze. We have no key. You cannot free her.”
He danced, keeping me from her. Why didn’t Griffin understand this?
“Was this your plan all along?” he accused. “To let that monster out? Do you know the damage she would do to the city? To the people?”
Rage flooded through me. “She’s not the monster! You are!”
“I am? I am the monster?” His cheeks flushed with anger. He checked the tower door, then dragged me into the shadows. “And when they discovered you gone, and a draignoch escaped, they’d interrogate the guards, who wouldn’t want to get in trouble, so they’d tell the king they opened the gate for me.”
Tears free-flowed. “Fine! Just let me touch her again!”
“We’re out of time, Maggie! Please . . .”
The thought of leaving Rendicryss hurt me like nothing I had ever experienced before. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Yes, you do. We need to leave.”
He was right.
There was no way to get her out tonight. No time for me to sit beside her and see what more she had to show me. But I would return. I would figure out how to free her, then we would both leave this place.
A lump lodged in my throat, making it impossible to speak, so I nodded. We sprinted across the compound, Rendicryss’s sad mew crushing my heart with every step.
But we kept running—taking the stairs in the dark, making it halfway up until we both had to stop to catch our breath.
Griffin leaned his back against the wall, clutching his hand, writhing in pain. “Dammit.”
His injury was worse. I could smell the beginnings of infection. I wanted to hate Griffin for what he’d said, but he’d helped me, and I owed him. “I always repay my debts. Give me your hand.”
Griffin recoiled. “Why? You don’t owe me anything.”
“You brought me here. You’re going to have to pay that whiny fool, Perig. I owe you.” I held out my hand, palm up in expectation. “Give it to me. Now.”
He placed his left hand in mine.
I smirked. “The other one.”
“I’m not a complete idiot. It’s already broken. You need not try and make it worse. If I met your best friend in the ring, I would be a tasty meal as it is.”
“I wasn’t intending to make it worse.” His scowl was proof he didn’t believe me. I wiggled my fingers, goading him. “That infection will leach into your bloodstream and kill you long before Rendicryss has a chance.”
Griffin contemplated, biting his lip.
“What do you have to lose by letting me see it?”
He remained frozen as I slid my palm beneath his. He let me move his other arm out of the way so I could sandwich the broken one between mine. I slowly unraveled the bandage, growing ill at the sight of what lay beneath. Swollen and festering, blood and pus oozed from the gaping wound left by a draignoch’s spike. The broken bone separated so far, his fingers pointed in unnatural directions. The worst part was the smell coming off it. It was all I could do not to vomit. I never liked the sight of blood, and this was so much worse.
His brow was sweaty; he was fevered. “How long has it been like this? Poisoned?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said, his gaze fixed on mine.
The moon wasn’t visible any longer, but if I was right it shouldn’t have to be. The moon simply was, visible or not. I felt it in the air around me, the push and pull—and I knew I could draw from it. A deep breath and I closed my eyes. A pin light in the darkness grew brighter. A surge rushed down my arms, into my hands. My palms collapsed on his, glowing brightly.
“Maggie! Your hands . . . your hands!”
All at once Griffin roared in pain. He tried to pull his hand out, but the force holding us together was too strong. My eyes still closed, I could see the cracked and separated bone in my mind. The fluid swelled like a growing tide with nowhere for it to go.
Griffin hissed.
I was making it worse.
My fingers stretched as far as possible. I blew out a long breath, the power jolting through my hands, and finally into his. The jagged shards moved until they were aligned, then knitted together, becoming one again. The infection from the wound took more effort. My whole body trembled, drawing out the toxins until the smell of rotting flesh was replaced with only Griffin.
Winded and weary beyond belief, I opened my eyes to his surprised smile.
“What . . . ? How . . . ?” he stuttered, flexing his fingers freely.
And then . . . he hugged me. The smell of rot gone, replaced by his own scent, which I liked more than I should.
I laughed to hide my embarrassment, but I didn’t let go. “No one can know.”
Griffin leaned back, his warm hands cradling my shoulders. “Are you insane? Why would you hide such a gift? Do you know the kind of influence you could wield at court?” He grew more excited by the question, then stopped. “You brought the moonlight into the Great Hall, didn’t you? You made that cheetah chase me!”
I laughed at what sounded like fear in his voice. “Oh, come now. It was only moonlight. You can’t be afraid of—”
“It wasn’t just light. It burned me, Maggie.”
“Burned?” I stared at my hands.
“Not with heat, but with cold.”
“That is . . . unexpected!” I paced, unable to hold still. “In the memories—the ones I just saw—I used the light like a fisherman uses a net. I caught a rock thrown at her.” I reached a hand up, willing moonlight to come to me, but nothing happened. “But alas, I don’t know how I did it.”
“Memories?”
I nodded. “Griffin, I saw her memories of us.”
He pursed his lips, bemused.
“Not you and me. Me and Rendicryss!”
He leaned against the wall, his face a mask of skepticism. “What did you see?”
“How we came to be separated. My mother cursed me. And she had a son, Armel. Wicked boy. Jealous.” Griffin looked as confused as I felt. “Yes. Unbelievable, I know. But it was real. I know what I saw was real.” I traced the mark on my arm. “I don’t know what that curse did to me, but when I found Rendicryss a few days ago, it broke some part of it. Because that very night, I healed a squirrel.”
“A squirrel?” he chided.
“Don’t mock me.”
“Never.” He raised his hands, surrendering.
“Then, I helped a boy on the road. And now you!” I squeezed his hand.
He smiled. “But . . . how does it work?”
I looked at my palms, then at Griffin, shrugging. “I have no idea. Rendicryss knows. I know she does. I have to . . .” The look on Griffin’s face stopped me. There was no going back. Not tonight.
“Well, it’s miraculous, Maggie. However you do it.” Griffin flexed his mended fingers, grinning. “But what of Xavier?”
I shook my head. “His tricks have always been that. Nothing more. I daresay if he knew what I was capable of, what I knew, my life with him would’ve been very different.” Xavier was both a father figure and crazed with the pursuit of magic. When the two aspects were pitted against one another, the truth would win. He wasn’t my father. Not really. And even if he were, he would care most about the magic. “No one can know, Griffin. The king believes it is Xavier, and Xavier believes it is Xavier, and I don’t want them to know it’s me—at least, not until I’m gone.”