Stepsister(93)

“Stay right there! Hands in the air! Don’t move or I’ll shoot!”





One Hundred and Eight


Isabelle couldn’t see the man shouting the orders. She couldn’t see anything. Soldiers were shining lanterns in her direction, blinding her. She tried to shade her eyes with her raised hands. She could hear dogs barking and snarling. Rifles being shouldered, triggers cocked. Her stomach tightened with fear.

And then a voice said, “Ah, there you are, Your Highness. I was wondering where you’d got to. And who have we here?”

“Lower the lanterns, you fools!” the grand duke ordered.

His soldiers did so. Isabelle lifted her hands above her eyes.

“It’s the queen’s stepsister. The girl who cut off her toes.” That was the grand duke. “I recognize her.”

“I recognize her, too,” said Volkmar. “We met in Malleval.” His eyes glittered darkly. “Now we can finish what we started there.” He made his way down the riverbank.

He can’t kill us both, not at the same time, Isabelle thought. And it’s dark. The soldiers aiming at us might miss.

“Run, Ella, run!” she whispered. “Nero’s on the path to the Wildwood. You can make it.”

Ella began to weep. “I won’t leave you,” she said.

“No need for tears, Your Highness,” Volkmar taunted. “I’m not going to kill you. Not yet. Just your ugly stepsister. You should thank me for that.”

He pulled his sword from its scabbard. The sight of it shocked Isabelle into remembering that she had a sword, too. And a shield. Instinctively, she reached towards her pocket, where she kept the fairy queen’s gifts.

“Keep your hands up!” a soldier shouted. “Or I’ll shoot you dead!”

Volkmar reached the bottom of the bank and stepped into the river. Isabelle’s insides turned to water. Fear threatened to overwhelm her, but before it could, she felt a sharp pain on her thigh. She looked down. Her pocket was bulging. Curved black thorns were sticking through the fabric of her dress.

The seedpod! she thought, hope leaping inside her. Tanaquill’s last gift!

But Volkmar saw it, too. “What do you have there?” he barked.

The seedpod grew bigger. It pushed through the fabric, shredding it. The bone and walnut shell fell into the river. “No!” Isabelle cried. Desperation gripped her. All she had left was the seedpod. Maybe it would turn into a weapon, too. If only she could get it.

But as she watched, the pod burst open. The seeds, which were red and shiny and as big as marbles, all fell into the water and sank. Then the husk fell in and was swiftly carried away. Her last hope disappeared with it.

Volkmar was close now. Isabelle knew that he would kill her here and let the river take her body. Then he would use Ella to carry out his ruthless plan. Their lives were lost. Saint-Michel was lost. Everything was lost.

He raised his sword, ready to swing it. Ella screamed. Isabelle braced for her death.

But the blow never came. Because an instant later, Volkmar’s sword went flying through the air.

And then Volkmar did.





One Hundred and Nine


“Isabelle, what’s happening?” Ella asked, her voice shaking with fear.

“I—I don’t know, Ella,” Isabelle said, reaching for her hand again.

A vine, as thick as a man’s thigh, had risen up out of the water, thrashing violently. It had caught the blade of Volkmar’s sword and launched it into the treetops; then it had slammed Volkmar against the riverbank. Thorns, some a foot long, sprouted from the vine. They’d carved red stripes in his chest.

“Blackbriar,” Isabelle whispered. Just like the vines that grew on the trunk of the linden tree, the vines from which Tanaquill had plucked the seedpod.

As Isabelle watched, another vine rose out of the water, and then another and another, dizzyingly quick. Until there were dozens of them. Reaching, spiraling, they cracked like whips, catching rifles, launching snarling dogs, knocking soldier after soldier to the ground, forcing the grand duke back. As they writhed, their thorns caught, tangling them.

Some of the vines had shot up in front of the girls, others were rising behind them.

“We’re going to be trapped!” Isabelle shouted. “Come on, Ella, run!”

She pulled her stepsister after her. Ella stumbled over the slick rocks, tripping, stubbing her toes, falling to her knees. Each time she fell, Isabelle hauled her up again until finally they made it to the other side.

As they staggered out of the water, panting, Isabelle looked back. The blackbriar vines had twisted together to form an impenetrable wall, twenty feet high. She heard commands being shouted behind it, guns firing, dogs barking, but nothing could get through. She and Ella were safe. For the moment.

“We have to go,” Isabelle said, still gripping Ella’s hand.

“What is that thing, Isabelle?” Ella asked, staring at the blackbriar wall.

“Tanaquill’s magic.”

Ella turned to her, smiling. “You found the fairy queen?” she asked excitedly.

“She found me. I’ll tell you all about it later. We can’t stay here.”

“Isabelle, how did you find me?” Ella asked as they hurried through the brush. “What were you doing in Volkmar’s camp?”