Echo North(73)

I turn back to her, my voice clear and strong. “I am here to free Hal, and I’m not leaving without him. I invoke the old magic.”

The Queen releases a breath and steps back from me, like I’ve slapped her. “The old magic?” she echoes uneasily.

“I told you, Mother,” says Mokosh. “I told you she has the power to defeat you.”

The Queen doesn’t even acknowledge her. I dare a glance at Hal. His eyes are shut and his lips are moving as if in silent, desperate prayer.

Words pour through me.

The wolf’s, in the Temple of the Winds: Once, I had something precious. I should have held it tight, should have guarded it with my last breath, but instead I let it go.

The East Wind’s, in the book mirror: When you have found the oldest of magics, you must not let it go, not even for an instant.

And Isidor’s, in Ivan’s tent: If you love something you will not give it up, not for anything. It belongs to you, it is part of you. If you grab hold of it and never let it go—no one can take it from you. Not even the Wolf Queen.

“The old magic is stronger than you,” I say. “It has the power to break your curse. I have the power to break your curse. Now. Tell me. How long until his hundred years is fulfilled?”

She doesn’t answer, her expression cold, aloof. And yet I can feel her anger.

“How long?”

“Three days,” says Mokosh, rigid on her throne. “His hundred years are fulfilled in three days.”

“Careful, daughter,” growls the Queen. “You overstep yourself.”

Mokosh says nothing more.

“I want to make you a deal,” I say.

The Wolf Queen turns to me, silver brows raised, and Mokosh is instantly forgotten. “What deal?”

“Give Hal to me for the remainder of his century, and I will hold onto him. I won’t let go even for an instant, no matter what you do, no matter how you try to take him from me. I will hold back your curse. And when the three days are over and his hundred years are fulfilled—he won’t belong to you anymore.”

“He will belong to you, I suppose,” the Wolf Queen scoffs.

I look at Mokosh, who crouches miserably on her throne, and I am sick that the Queen thinks I would want to own anyone. “He will belong to himself. The old magic—the first magic—will free him.”

She considers me. “And if you fail, girl-child?”

I stare her down, hold my head high. “I have set my terms. You set yours.”

She smiles, deep and dangerous. “If you fail, you both will belong to me, and be bound to my court for all of time.”

“Echo, no.”

I look over at Hal. Tears slide down his cheeks. He throws himself against his knife-sharp bonds, struggling and swearing as he tries to get free. Blood seeps into the hollow of his neck, pours down his arms. “Don’t bargain with her! She’ll trick you. With her it is always a trick. You have to run. You have to go now, and don’t look back! I’ll not have you trapped here, too. I couldn’t bear it. Please, Echo. Please go.”

“You hear how he pleads with you,” says the Queen. “But time slips away. Choose now, what you will do.”

“I’m sorry, Hal, but I’m not leaving here without you.”

He sags where he sits, his whole body shuddering. “Please, Echo. Please.”

But I turn once more to the Wolf Queen. “I invoke the old magic. I accept your terms.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

RELEASE THE BOY, MOKOSH,” SAYS THE Wolf Queen, without a sideways glance at her daughter.

“Release him yourself. I will not be your pet. You do not own me.”

In one swift movement, the Queen sweeps to Mokosh’s throne, and grabs her daughter’s muzzle with one clawed hand. “I do own you, just as I owned your father, just as I own your filthy half-siblings. You will do as I say.”

Mokosh’s ears are pinned back flat against her head. “You don’t have any intention of keeping your promise to me, do you?”

The Queen digs her claws in deeper, making Mokosh flinch. “You could never be anything more than a hideous creature in a beautiful dress.”

Mokosh jerks away, the Wolf Queen’s claws tearing at her face. Blood grazes her silver fur. “I should have known better than to make a deal with you.”

The Queen smiles, her white teeth curving up over her lips, and touches Mokosh’s wound with one finger. “Now do as I command. Release the boy.”

Mokosh growls, but obeys, stepping down from her throne and over to Hal’s. She frees his neck first, loosing the band with a metallic click, then his wrists, his ankles. She steps back, her furred hands balled into fists. She’s trembling. “I’m sorry, Echo.” Her voice is so quiet I barely hear her. “Save him. If you can.” And then she slinks back to her throne, bows her head into her hands. Her shoulders shake.

“Well?” says the Wolf Queen. “Stand, boy. Meet your fate.”

Hal takes a ragged breath and tries to stand, but his legs fold underneath him and he collapses to the ground. I am beside him in an instant, my arms around him, hoisting him back to his feet. I wonder how long he has sat bound to the Wolf Queen’s throne.

His eyes meet mine. The scar on his cheek from the spot of oil looks raw, ugly, as if still freshly made, though it is months old. “Please, Echo. Please don’t do this. Don’t let her trap you. Leave me. Save yourself. Please.”