They flew through the catacombs as if a ghost were at their heels. They ran full out, following Lita’s lit path to the door. Lita’s own candle had been extinguished and flung aside. They didn’t bother blowing out the ones that lit their path to the catacomb door. They flickered like winking eyes through the gloom.

Tripping, and blundering, Mally finally spotted the heavy wooden door. She and Lita grabbed hold of the iron loop and pulled with all their might as it creaked in displeasure. Fumbling, Mally jammed the key into the lock, twisting it roughly before bounding up the dark stairs after Lita.

They didn’t once slow, speeding madly through the pitch-black corridors to Molick’s sitting room. They skidded to a halt. The door was still shut. Panting, they looked at each other. Were they still asleep?

Mally inched the door open. A loud chorus of snores filled her ears.

“Asleep?” Lita asked in a strangled whisper.

Mally nodded.

She tip-toed into the room and carefully returned the key ring to its resting place at Molick’s hip.

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They didn’t return to their room—they didn’t want to wake Gerda. Instead, they stumbled into a tearoom. It was well past curfew. All the candles in the castle had been extinguished. Lita collapsed into a chair, her legs spread out and limp. Mally’s legs were too jerky to stay still, the whirling in her mind impossible to calm.

“What are we going to do?” Lita asked between deep breaths.

“We’ve got to tell Ivan or Galen,” said Mally, pacing fretfully. This was the proof Ivan needed. “Princess Avona isn’t dead.”

But Lita frowned.

“We still can’t be positive of that.”

“Oh, Lita!” Mally exclaimed, stamping her foot. “The tomb was empty.”

“So maybe her body wasn’t around to bury. No, listen to me!” Lita jumped to her feet. “She could have been taken out of the castle. She could have been tossed in the ocean!”

Mally flinched at Lita’s words, but then she thought of something.

“Then why did King Salir tell everyone she’d died of a fever? Why did he imply that she was buried?”

“Maybe he didn’t want the people thinking she had been murdered.”

“Why? King Sebastian had been murdered,” Mally countered. “Why admit to one and not the other?”

“Maybe he’s known all along what happened to her because he did it himself,” Lita said slowly.

“He couldn’t have!” Mally argued.

Lita raised her eyebrows in surprise at Mally’s sharp denial.

“Why?” she asked. “Because you like him? Because he’s nice to you?”

“No!” Mally shook her head. “He may not know the truth either. We don’t know how King Salir learned of the princess’s death. Molick could have told him she’d died of a fever.”

“But you’re forgetting Molick’s biggest weakness,” Lita said firmly. “He brags. He wouldn’t be able to keep it quiet for sixteen years that he’d killed the princess.”

Mally agreed silently.

Lita pressed her lips into a thin line, her jaws tense.

“It’s after hours. It would be wiser to wait to tell them come morning,” said Lita.

But Mally was too full of adrenaline. There was no possible way she could sleep now.

“It’s not Thursday for another three days,” Mally argued. “We can’t wait that long!”

“But what exactly have we learned?” Lita asked. “We still don’t know what happened to her! We don’t have any proof she’s alive!”

“They should still know,” Mally replied stubbornly. “There was a reason the catacombs were locked up and I think it was because Molick didn’t want anyone finding out the princess is alive and missing.”

Lita frowned at Mally, looking slightly exasperated. Finally, she said, “How do we get out? We can’t pass the guard at the gate.”

“There’s a trapdoor in the cellar,” Mally answered quickly. “Come on!”

She grabbed Lita’s hand and ran into the hall, heading toward Archie’s kitchen. But halfway to their destination, Mally stopped so suddenly that Lita stumbled into her.

“Aggh! Mally!” Lita cried in anger, steadying herself.

But Mally ignored her. She had spun around, staring down the corridor they had just come from.

“What is it?” Lita whispered, looking over Mally’s shoulder.

“I thought I heard something.” Her eyes tried desperately to see into the darkness that engulfed the corridor. A clammy unease crept up her arms and neck.

“Oh, this is silly.” There was a strike of a match and Lita held up a burning flame. “Nobody’s there,” she breathed.

Mally tore her eyes from the corridor, turned back around and continued to the kitchen at a jog.

“Archie kept this secret,” Lita muttered as Mally lifted the trapdoor in the back of the cellar. “He told you and not me?” she asked, playfully jealous.

“Sammy did.”

“Ah! Where should we go? The Lone Candle?” Lita asked.

Mally nodded and motioned for Lita to follow her down the stairs. Lita handed her the candle and they soon emerged into the worn-down shed outside of the castle’s walls. The night sky was heavily covered by thick clouds, leaving the roads frightfully dark. No one else was out. It had to be several hours past midnight and well past curfew.

“Should we risk the candle?” Mally asked. She didn’t like the idea of traveling the streets in the dark, even though she had done it once before.

Lita shook her head.

Mally blew out the flame and took a moment for her eyes to adjust. They cautiously crept down the streets, keeping close to the sides of buildings and glancing over their shoulders.

It was with deep relief that they reached the Lone Candle and Mally knocked on the door. It was flung open so quickly after her knock that she and Lita both jumped back startled. But Galen wasn’t the one standing opposite them—Edwin was, Galen’s little brother. All blood seemed to have been drained from his face; his entire frame was as tense as a knot. He stared at them, just as surprised to see them as they were to see him, but then his face tightened.

“Come in,” he mouthed, waving them in rapidly. As he closed the door, he glanced over his shoulder at the stairs to the bedrooms with trepidation.

“We’re looking for Galen,” said Mally, deciding to get straight to the point.

“He’s not here,” Edwin answered, looking nervously out the dark window.

A violent shiver ran through Mally.

“Where is he?” she demanded. “What’s wrong?”

Edwin’s eyes went yet again to the stairs and he bit his lower lip.

“At a meeting,” he whispered and Mally understood his tension. Of course some of the meetings would happen past curfew, and of course Edwin would not be allowed to join him. Mally wondered how long he had been hovering by the door, waiting for Galen to return … or waiting for his mother to awake and realize Galen was missing.

“Where do they meet?” Lita asked.

“We must speak to him,” Mally pressed when Edwin didn’t respond. “We have information, Edwin.”

Edwin’s wide eyes flickered once more to the stairs clearly leading to his mother’s room. He swallowed.

“I’ll take you.”

In seconds they were back on the cobbled road, Mally and Lita hurrying behind a slightly feverish Edwin.

“I’m not supposed to know where they meet,” Edwin explained in a tense whisper. “I followed Galen one night and I swear, I thought he was going to hit me. I’d never seen him so angry.” Edwin’s legs moved in a rapid, erratic half-walk, half-jog. He led them down a narrow alley way and stopped before a dirty door. Nervously, he licked his lips, perspiration beading on his forehead. He lifted a clammy hand to the thin chain hanging beside the doorframe.

He pulled.

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Down in the cave-like room where the rebel members sat around a large table, Cian Raghnall stopped in mid sentence when a small bell sounded in the room. Moving as one, each head turned to the small iron bell nailed to the wall. All breathing seemed to cease as they watched the bell’s movements slow, its sharp ringing fading into the silence. Adam Thain turned from the bell and nodded to Garren who rose. The pair of them drew swords and quickly but silently climbed the stairs to the door, leaving the others behind at the table. All the rebel members were accounted for. No one else knew of their location. It could simply be a stranger, searching for a place to stay. But it could just as easily be a band of knights.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

They had reached the door and Garren glanced at Adam for final instructions. Adam nodded again, gripping his sword tightly.

“Who goes there?” Garren demanded through the door.

“Edwin Dunker with Mally Biddle and Lita Stump. We are unarmed.”

Adam and Garren exchanged surprised glances. A Dunker boy? With the spy? And who was Stump? Curious, but not relinquishing his hold on his sword, Adam nodded to Garren. Garren unlatched the many locks.

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After Edwin had rung the bell, Mally busied herself by keeping watch. It was much too dark to see either end of the narrow alley. Then a gruff voice sounded through the door. Mally’s head spun around as Edwin replied. For someone so young, Edwin impressed Mally. He was terrified—that was obvious—but his voice came out strong and clear. The door opened and a muscled man stood in the doorway. He quickly ushered them inside where another hard-looking man stood. It didn’t escape her notice that they both held swords.

“What is your business?” asked the man who stood to the side as the other latched numerous locks.

It seemed that Edwin had used up the last of his courage for he just stared wide-eyed at the glaring man. Lita looked pointedly at Mally.

“We have information about the princess,” Mally supplied in her companions’ silence.

The man’s eyes widened under his bushy eyebrows. In one swift movement, he sheathed his sword.

“My name is Adam Thain. I am one of the rebel leaders. You are Biddle, correct?”

Mally stared at him in surprise.

“Yes, I am.”

“Ivan pointed you out to me,” Adam nodded. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, his eyes lingering on Lita. Mally wondered if only she would be allowed any farther—if he would shove Lita and Edwin back through the door. But then his gaze hardened and he addressed the three of them, “Come.”

He led them swiftly down a narrow, dark hallway and then down a set of stairs. At the end of the stairs he opened a door. Candlelight momentarily blinded Mally. Blinking quickly to adjust her eyes, she heard a startled shout.

“Edwin!”

Mally only had a second to take in the room she, Edwin, and Lita had been led to before Galen rushed to them, Ivan on his heels. It was a dreary, grey, stone room filled with men, all of whom also moved forward, though at a slower pace. Mally saw more than one casually place a hand on the sword hilt at his hip.

“What are you doing here?” Galen demanded, his eyes jumping from his brother to Mally to Lita and back again.

“We asked him to bring us,” Mally answered quickly. She didn’t want Edwin to get in trouble.

“And who are you?”

Mally turned to see a sneering man with his arms crossed formidably.

“Mally Biddle,” Mally replied crisply.

“Adam, perhaps another room?” Ivan suggested, cutting a wary glance at the rest of the group who were all staring at Mally and Lita with growing curiosity.

“Yes, perhaps …” Adam agreed slowly. He raised his eyebrows, looking specifically at the oldest man in the room. “We won’t be long,” he told the rest.

At his words, a few of the others surged forward, arguing. But the man with the folded arms simply glared daggers at the lot of them, his mouth twisting into an ugly grimace. Adam dropped a hand onto Mally’s shoulder and steered her to a door on the other side of the room. Ivan, Galen, Lita, Edwin, and the old man followed closely. Mally heard the old man say something to the rest of the rebels as he closed the door behind him—shutting out their demands.

They were now in a much smaller room and Adam quickly lit a handful of candles. Three moth-eaten and molding chairs were the only furniture.

Ivan immediately jumped forward.

“What happened?”

He must have thought that Mally’s appearance—after he had told her never to seek out the rebels—meant something terrible must have happened. Everyone in the tiny room was staring at the three of them. Lita, it seemed, had left what bravery she had in the room with the angry rebels, and Edwin cut a nervously meek glance at Mally.

“Well?” Ivan pressed.

Mally licked her lips, glancing at Lita.

“We were just in the catacombs.” If Mally hadn’t been so tense, she would have laughed at the reaction her words brought. Each one of the men’s expressions were identical. Open mouthed, wide-eyed shock. They looked as if she had just informed them that she and Lita had run about the castle naked, screaming “Long live the king” at the top of their voices.

“How?” Adam finally gasped. “Romore and Molick are the only ones with keys.”

Mally shook her head. They shouldn’t be out of the castle much longer—there would be time to explain everything later.

“That’s not important—”

Lita snorted.

Mally looked at her friend in surprise. Lita was still an unhealthy shade of gray, but amusement glittered in her light brown eyes and a hint of an exasperated smile touched her lips. Mally felt her own lips curve.

“Mally!” Ivan snapped impatiently.

“What is important is that we got in,” Mally continued, addressing the men again. “And we found Princess Avona’s tomb.”

“And?” asked Galen.

Mally inhaled. “It was empty.”

The old man collapsed into one of the chairs, a hand over his eyes. Triumph swelled in Ivan’s face.

“Now what?” he asked Adam.

But Adam was far from jubilant.

“This doesn’t change anything, Ivan. Princess Avona could have been killed elsewhere.”

Ivan spun around to Mally and Lita.

“Do you have any proof that she’s alive?”

An embarrassed sinking weight filled Mally’s chest. She saw Lita out of the corner of her eye scuffle her shoes.

“No,” Mally said quietly.

“Nothing?” Ivan demanded, his voice weak.

Mally couldn’t bear to look at him any longer. She dropped her eyes to her feet, feeling so horribly stupid for dragging Lita and Edwin all this way for information that now seemed completely useless. The overwhelming excitement of drugging Molick and sneaking into a sealed chamber had erased all rational thought.

A loud crash that made everyone jump suddenly sounded behind the door. For one wild moment, Mally thought the other rebels had given up on patience and were ramming their way in. But her senses caught up with her as she heard the shouting. The door burst open and the strongly muscled man who had let them in emerged.

“Cian! Adam! The knights are here!”

Mally stood frozen as Adam and the old man—who must have been named Cian—charged out of the room without a backwards glance.

“Move!”

Ivan grabbed Mally and Lita by the arm and ran into the main room. Galen was right behind them, a terrified Edwin in tow. The rebels had rushed the stairs, and from the clashing of sword on sword, were apparently fighting the knights in the hall. They were the only ones in the room.

“How do we get out?” asked Lita, spinning on the spot, trying to find an exit.

“We—Garren!” Ivan cried as the man who had warned them tumbled down the stairs to their feet unconscious, a nasty, bloody gash on his forehead.

“There’s a window up the stairs,” Galen yelled to them as the shouts and clanging increased in volume. The rebels were being forced back. “Up the stairs. Come on!”

Between the two of them, Galen and Ivan lifted Garren. But they would never be able to defend themselves if a knight broke through the rebels and charged them.

“Give me your sword,” Mally demanded. Ivan looked at her as if she had lost her mind. But Mally didn’t wait for a reply. With Ivan’s arms preoccupied, she tugged it free of its sheath.

“What are you doing?!” Ivan yelled, his mouth finally catching up with his eyes.

“Which way is the window?” Mally asked, ignoring Ivan.

“Up the stairs to the left,” Galen answered. He shifted his weight slightly and pulled out his own sword, passing it to Lita. She looked a little surprised but took it without hesitation. “Edwin, stay next to me,” Galen ordered.

Edwin looked like wandering off was the last thing on his mind.

With their heavy load, Galen and Ivan moved up the stairs, Mally and Lita in front of them. Mally gripped Ivan’s sword in her sweaty hand. She had no idea how to use a sword. Its weight was the only thing keeping her hand from shaking.

Halfway up the narrow stairs, Mally and Lita tensed as they heard a clamor. Then one of the rebels was falling head over feet toward them. Unlike Garren, he was not unconscious.

“Egan!” Galen yelled.

Egan shook his head, perhaps to get the blood out of his eyes. He grabbed hold of Edwin’s hand and tried to stand before cursing and doubling over—a hand pressed tightly to his thigh.

“There are too many of them,” Egan bit out.

“We have to get to the window,” Mally ordered, her stomach twisting at the sight of Egan’s bloody leg. “Edwin, Lita. Help him.”

They lifted Egan between them and once more traveled up the remaining stairs. Upon reaching the landing, Mally’s heart rate tripled. The rebels were fighting tooth and nail in the tiny hallway. But there was so little room to maneuver. Only two rebels could stand at the front and battle against two knights before they fell back and two more took their place. The knights were steadily pushing their way farther into the hall, the rebels coming closer to the stairwell.

“The window!” Galen shouted in Mally’s ear.

She jumped—she’d been in some sort of panicked trance, watching the fighting. She turned to the left away from the rebels and knights and came upon a window. Tossing the sword aside, Mally pushed the window open and stepped back. Lita jumped out first into a deserted alley. The knights were attacking the front of the building, while they were escaping out the side.

Lita turned back to the window and raised her hands to help Egan out. After Egan had dropped the short distance, Edwin climbed through. Galen and Ivan lifted a still unconscious Garren through the window and Lita and Edwin managed to catch him.

“We have to get the others out,” said Galen, but before they could reply a terrified shout was heard over the yelling and clanging of swords—a shout that made Mally, Ivan, and Galen’s heads whip around.

“CIAN!”

Mally didn’t understand what had happened. She could barely see anything in the dark hallway. Her brain couldn’t form a reply to Lita’s panicked shouts outside the window, demanding to know what had happened. What she did understand was that Ivan had just retrieved his sword from the floor and had rushed straight into the commotion.

“Ivan!”

Mally made to go after him, but Galen’s arms were suddenly wrapped around her.

“Galen, let me go! Let me go!” Mally screamed, clawing and straining against his hold.

“I’ll get him,” Galen panted into her ear, fighting just as hard to keep his hold on her. “Go through the window.” He released her and jumped into the fray.

Mally stumbled backwards until she bumped into the window frame. Shaking from head to foot, she climbed through it and joined the others.

“Where’s Galen?” Edwin shouted and when Mally didn’t reply he rushed at the window, but Mally grabbed hold of his shirt.

“Let me go!” Edwin snarled.

In the deep recess of her mind, Mally found it interesting and ironic that she was now doing to Edwin just what Galen had done to her.

“Mally!”

Edwin stopped struggling at the exact same second that Mally let go of his shirt. Their heads both jerked up to the window where Galen and another rebel who appeared uninjured climbed down to them. Mally’s heart nearly stopped.

They didn’t have Ivan.

“Where’s Ivan?” Mally demanded.

“Where’s Adam? Cian?” Egan shouted.

“Captured” Galen answered thickly.

“Captured?” Egan repeated hoarsely. He swayed on his feet and Lita quickly took hold of him.

“We need to move, the knights will see us in seconds.” Galen looked close to retching. He turned his pale and suddenly hard face to Edwin.

“Take them to Maud’s,” Galen ordered. “I’m going to get Mom and I’ll be right there.”

“But—” Edwin started, looking beyond terrified. “We should stay together. We’ll all go—”

“Don’t argue with me, Edwin!” Galen shouted, making everyone around him flinch and stare. Mally had never seen Galen like this and from the looks of those around her, she wasn’t alone. “Take them to Maud.”

And with the fiercest glare Mally had ever seen, he ran past them in the direction of the Lone Candle. For a moment the lot of them just stared at each other before Edwin swallowed and said, “Come on!”

Edwin wrapped an arm under Egan’s, Mally and Lita and the rebel who’d jumped down from the window with Galen grabbed a still unconscious Garren. As quickly as they could, they hobbled down the alley.

No one spoke. Only their heavy breathing filled their ears. Edwin was in the lead of what looked to Mally like some bizarre troop—bloody and torn, wide-eyed and terrified, all painfully shuffling one after the other as quickly as possible. Mally’s shoulders ached from Garren’s weight and she was beyond thankful that the rebel was helping them carry him. Her legs screamed; her head pounded. She was excruciatingly aware of how long they were taking.

“Knights!” Edwin hissed and they all pressed themselves against the shadowy wall of a store.

A group of ten knights walked across the street a few yards before them. With a twisting of her stomach that made her want to vomit, Mally thought of Galen—alone. Edwin had been right. They shouldn’t have separated. It was too dangerous.

How had this happened? How could she have been stupid enough to take such a risk? They were no closer to discovering the truth of the princess and now, thanks to her idiocy, the entire rebel force was captured! Mally’s stomach turned. It was all her fault. How had the knights known where they were? Had she and Lita and Edwin been followed? But that was ridiculous, Mally argued. No one had followed them—they would have known if they had been. Wouldn’t they?

But the whirling in Mally’s brain suddenly took another turn as they stepped before number 113. This time she couldn’t see the display on the other side of the glass, for all the candles in the apothecary had been extinguished, but Mally knew the skulls and carvings were still there. And not for the first time since Galen’s departure, she wondered why they had been sent here.

Edwin, still supporting Egan, walked with difficulty up the two stone steps and knocked four times, with a deliberate pause between each knock, on Maud’s door.