Page 69 of Tangled Sails

My heart turned over. I’d heard that sound before. It was the noise my candlestick would make when I accidentally kicked it over because there was no light in this place.

My body started to shake. I knew exactly where we were.

“We’re in the tower,” I said, my voice only a rough whisper of trepidation. I’d wondered if we might end up at the tower, but my mind had conjured images of landing in my old living space, surrounded by books, or perhaps ending up at the base of the tower where I would have landed if the portal hadn’t taken me the first time. It had never occurred to me that I would end up in this dark place.

“How do you know?”

“This is where she kept me when I was disobedient or ungrateful. She would say I needed solitude and put me up here.”

“Who?”

“My aunt.”

“Where’s the door?”

“I think forward and then to our right, but it might be locked. She always locked it,” I babbled as he continued to shuffle forward.

“Was it the healing that knocked you out?” he asked, sounding annoyed. No doubt he wanted me mobile so that I could walk myself to the seat of the High Court.

“Yes. It’s always taxing, and the king was much sicker than anyone I’ve ever healed.”

“When will you get your strength back?”

“I need food and water, and even then, I don’t know how long it will take.”

He stopped, and I heard him groping around in the dark, then the metallic scrape of a latch.

I was surprised when it opened. Aunt Ethel must have locked it only when she’d put me in there for solitude.

Harlan anchored me to his side and dragged me down the steps. “You lived here with your aunt?”

“Yes.”

“So there’s food here.”

He made quick work of the stairs, not caring when my arm bumped and scraped against the stone wall of the stairwell. We reached the small landing where the door led to my home, and I had no time to take in the conflicting turmoil of the moment before he flung the door open and pushed me through it.

A startled cry brought my attention to the far side of the room, where Aunt Ethel had her back against the wall, looking stunned and speechless.

A part of me felt like I should have the urge to run to her, to ask her to keep me safe from Harlan, yet that urge was absent. My aunt was not any safer than he was, and my heart tore just a little more at that thought.

Ethel’s gaze fixed on me. “Lyrielle,” she breathed in astonishment, a hand pressed to her heart. “Oh, Lyrielle, you’re back. I’m so relieved.” She slumped against the wall as though overcome with emotion. “I’ve been so worried about you. What happened? Where have you been?”

She took a step toward me, and as much as I wanted to recoil, I didn’t have the energy, and Harlan had an iron grip on me as he slammed the door shut.

“She needs food,” he said without preamble and walked us over to the small table, where he deposited me in a chair.

I clung to the edges of the table so that I would stay upright as an eerie silence filled the space. I looked up to see my aunt’s face contorted in rage and dismay. “Her hair,” she gasped in horror, her frame trembling. “What have you done to her? Who are you?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter. All you need to know is that you don’t want to cross me. She’s weak and needs food. Get it for her, now.”

“But her hair!”

Harlan took one menacing step toward her and she fell back. “Food. Now,” he said with dark authority.

Ethel swallowed, the defiance in her eyes only slightly overpowered by the fear. “Fine,” she conceded and went to the kitchen, grabbing bowls and cutting her eyes over to me and Harlan in turns. “Are you going to tell me what happened to your hair?” she asked bitterly as she crossed to the fire, which had a pot hanging over it.

“No,” I replied, leaning my forearms heavily on the tabletop. “I don’t owe you any explanation.”