The dumbwaiter.

Imogen sent food up on it just earlier today.

It’s not large enough for me to slip into, but…

I glance down at my poor, squirming little girl.

“Mommy loves you. I know you won’t remember me saying this, but I hope your daddy tells you all about it,” I say, pressing a kiss to my child’s forehead.

And then I place my baby in the wooden box and slam the door, tugging on the rope.

The dumbwaiter squeals.

I sense the Other turn, but I don’t let myself look. I’m not going anywhere until I feel the weight of the dumbwaiter rest at the bottom of the shaft.

Fates, surely there aren’t any Others in the kitchen.

Please don’t let there be any Others in the kitchen, I pray.

The thought has me wanting to turn the rope the other way, to lift Cecilia back to the safety of my arms. But that’s nonsensical. An idea brought on by panic and hysteria.

There’s a chance the Others have reached the kitchen, but there is one in here with me.

I keep coaxing the rope until the weight of the dumbwaiter thuds softly, the rope stopping in my hands.

I throw myself backwards, no thought of where I might be sending my body crossing my mind. My only survival instinct is that I have to get away from where I was standing.

It turns out to be a pretty good survival instinct, because the jaws of the Other curl around the now empty space.

There’s a snapping of rope as the creature’s jaws cut through the pulley. Panic seizes me. I picture my baby falling, and I have to remind myself she’s already reached safety at the bottom of the shaft. There is nowhere to fall.

I suck in a breath, and realize that I’m going to die.

But then, what if there’s no one alive left in the kitchens? What if no one knows where to look for my baby? It’s not the most reasonable of thoughts, I have to admit. Cecilia is a screamer, after all. It hasn’t been my absolute favorite quality of my daughter’s, if I’m being perfectly honest, but now I could have kissed the Fates’ feet for blessing me with a baby whose favorite activity is alerting others of her presence.

I will die up here in the nursery, but someone will find Cecilia. Her little screams will notify her rescuer right where she is, and she will live. I hate that I’ll be leaving her, but I hope that perhaps she’ll understand.

The Other turns to face me, and I shudder, using what is more than likely going to be my last breath.

Evander was right. My mother is going to make the perfect mother to our child.

I decide that will be a fine alternative if this doesn’t work out favorably for me. But my baby is still my baby, and to be perfectly honest, I think my mother gets plenty of time with my baby as it is.

It’s with this thought that I sprint across the room, and as the Other attacks, hurtle out the window.

CHAPTER 71

EVANDER

Othian is beautiful from this high up.

At least, I imagine that’s what I’d be thinking if I weren’t currently scrambling atop the back of the wyvern, clinging to its scales for dear life as we surge into the sky.

Condensation has me choking as the wyvern cuts through the clouds, sending a spray of liquid up my nose.

I squeeze my burning eyes shut, then force them open despite the wind lashing against them.

And for a moment, as the wyvern reaches the peak of our ascent and the two of us are weightless, I peer down at the clouds beneath us, their blanket of white shining magnificently in the daylight.

There’s no time to sit in awe, though.

Not when, after a single weightless moment, the wyvern twists.

My world turns upside down as the creature flips onto its back, allowing gravity to take hold and send us plummeting.

Where there was once a row of scales beneath me, there’s now only clouds.

We cut through the mist.

There’s only ground hurtling toward us as the wind presses my torso to the wyvern’s spine.

Panic rises within me.

I really would rather not die splattered on the ground, smashed between the wyvern and a poorly placed turret.

Thankfully, the wyvern doesn’t seem to realize how physics works, and that I haven’t fallen faster than the wyvern itself, like the stupid creature must have hoped.

Which means it has to spin back around sometime.

That’s about the only hope I have as I claw my fingers into the space between its scales and hold tight.

We fall for what feels like eternity, and just when I’m sure I’m about to become a decorative sidewalk mural in the town square, the wyvern pivots, sending me upright, then opens its wings.

We catch wind, the force of it sending us weightless again, floating upward and above the castle.

But not high enough that my vines can’t reach.

I call them from the earth, sending them straight through the leathery portion of the creature’s wings, biting at its membrane until its wings look like sails tattered by a storm.

The wyvern cries out, and we fall.

The crash sends us careening through the roof of the castle.

A harsh impact rattles my bones, shooting me off the back of the wyvern. Rubble beats against my limbs as I roll across the floor, pain exploding through my muscles.

Stars blanket my vision, which doesn’t seem right given it’s midday, but when I go to push myself off the ground, I stumble.

Something scaly wraps itself around my torso and squeezes.