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  Alex was in the process of snatching magic out of the air and redirecting it toward the other guards, when four of the assailants launched a singular attack on him. It came out of nowhere, catching him in the knees, sending him crashing with a painful crunch to the floor. It was the opportunity the Stillwater mages had been waiting for, as the rest surged in around him, physically knocking his friends out of the way as they rushed to restrain Alex. One particularly tall, handsome-looking guard held a pair of horribly familiar manacles in his hands as he loomed over Alex, yanking at the young man’s arms as he held them upward and locked the manacles around Alex’s wrists.

  Things with locks hadn’t proved much of a nuisance to Alex, but, to his horror, he saw that the manacles were entwined with twisting vines of the dull, gray ivy that littered the walls of Spellshadow. Moments later, he felt the icy creep of its draining energy working its way through his arms. Another guard skirted behind him, wielding something heavy. The unseen object hit Alex in the back of the skull with such force, he thought it had taken his head clean off. It was the last thing he remembered fully as the world went black.

  With barely a sliver of consciousness left, Alex was aware of chains scraping and indecipherable noises clanging in an echo around him. He could make out the defiant sound of Ellabell’s voice, followed by Natalie’s, but it was Jari’s voice that soared above the rest in a loud, angry snarl as he sniped something nasty at somebody, though Alex couldn’t see any of them. His eyesight was fuzzy and his head pounded, and he tasted dirt in his mouth as he felt the cold, hard texture of the stone beneath his cheek.

  Moments later, he felt the thud of something being shoved to the ground nearby—his friends, he presumed grimly, as he heard agonized groans. Though he couldn’t see or move, it did not stop the feeling of rage that burned in his chest. Several times, he tried to break free of the manacles, though he wasn’t sure how intently his limbs were listening to what his brain wanted, and the ivy continued to keep the anti-magic at bay.

  Shortly afterward, Alex became aware of the sensation of being carried, followed by the hefty thump of his shoulder hitting something wooden. For a while, nothing happened in his blind confusion, until the soft sound of oars slicing through the water rushed through his ears, letting him know they were on the lake. He had already guessed the destination, though they seemed to travel for a much longer time than he remembered the trip taking, from the lighthouse to Stillwater.

  He was forced to put his trust in the competence of his hearing as he listened to the boat run aground on a distant shore. Hands grasped him and hauled him along for a long while, it seemed, before his body was unceremoniously thrown down onto more hard, cold flagstones, though these had a certain dank dampness to them that felt unpleasant against his cheek. The place smelled musty and sour, making his nose wrinkle as he struggled to sit up. His head snapped toward the sound of a key turning in a lock, as an image pieced itself together in his mind. He was in a cell of some sort, he guessed, as the sounds and scents and sensations made things a little clearer.

  It wasn’t long before his eyesight returned, confirming his suspicions. Glancing around, pain pulsing behind his eyeballs, he saw that he was in a dark and damp cell. The walls were slick and dripping with some unknown substance, and a metallic undertone soured the fusty tang of the room. It was a smell he recognized, and, as he brushed a cautious finger along one of the wall stones, the sticky substance that came away shone with a red tinge that made him shudder. Two torches dimly lit the room, but Alex wasn’t sure whether the low visibility was a blessing or a curse. There was no telling what horrors lurked in the shadowed corners.

  As soon as he became more familiar with his surroundings and his sight had returned fully, his thoughts turned immediately to the welfare of his friends. Moving toward the thick wooden door, his head still thumping with dull pain, he tried to peer out of the grate, but could see only the wall beyond.

  “Guys?” he shouted, squeezing as much of his face through the narrow bars as possible. “Guys, can you hear me?”

  “Alex, is that you?” Natalie replied.

  “It’s me—are the others with you?”

  “I’m here!” called Jari.

  “And me,” said Aamir.

  “Me too!” Ellabell responded, from farther down the corridor.

  None of them sounded too worse for wear, though perhaps a little groggy. He wasn’t surprised. If they felt anything like he did, they were bound to sound shaky.

  “Are you all okay?” he yelled.

  “My head is a little sore,” said Natalie.

  “Yeah—mine feels like there’s a herd of elephants doing the conga!” shouted Jari, making Alex smile.

  “My brain feels like it’s about to explode,” sighed Ellabell wearily.

  “I’m pretty sure I’ve lost all my memories before my tenth birthday,” grunted Aamir. “How are you?”

  “Same.” Alex grimaced, rubbing his thumbs against his temples in a vain attempt to get them to stop hurting.

  There was a welt at the back of his head, the swelling coming up beneath the skin like an egg as he rubbed the tender spot. Although he hurt and they were all suffering somewhat, it was nice to hear the others. It calmed him a little, as he sat up against the door—it was by far the driest spot in the cell.

  Nobody talked much as they sat in isolation, seeing to their wounds. Alex had a few mystery bruises and scratches, brought on by their brutish transportation. There was one just above his right eyebrow that stung every time a bead of sweat ran into it, like squeezing lemon juice on a cut. All in all, though, he seemed to be in one piece.

  An hour later, the sound of scraping metal and jangling keys alerted Alex to one of the doors being opened, farther up the corridor. Standing quickly, despite the dizziness that followed, he tried to peer out of the grate to see who was being taken away, but couldn’t crane his head far enough around.

  “Who is it?” he yelled. He heard the sound of scuffling feet on the flagstones and the muffled fear of someone struggling, silenced by a hand over the mouth. “Who is it?” he repeated desperately.

  “Alex!” Ellabell called out for him, and the sound nearly broke his heart. There was abject terror in her voice.

  “Ellabell—be brave! You’ll be okay!” he called, though he still couldn’t see her. He could only hope she believed him.

  He listened as her footsteps faded away to nothing, his voice no longer echoing after her down the hallway. There was nothing left to do but pace while he waited for them to bring her back. Frustration twisted inside his stomach as he walked up and down the cell, hoping she was safe, wherever they had taken her. He couldn’t bear to think of them hurting her in any way.

  A while later, he heard the scrape and jangle once more, only Ellabell didn’t seem to be with the jailer. Instead, they had come for someone else.

  Alex listened hopelessly as Natalie cried out, just before she was dragged to wherever they had taken Ellabell.

  Jari was next, assuring Alex and Aamir he would be fine.

  “I won’t say a word to those—” Whichever expletive Jari had been about to use, it was cut off by the hand of someone smothering the blond-haired boy’s mouth.

  Aamir went after, shouting to Alex.

  “Be strong, Alex!” he called as the sound of jangling keys disappeared into nothingness.

  Left alone in the prison, with nobody neighboring him to keep him from going mad, Alex paced his cell like a caged beast, his mind racing with worry and concern for the other four who had gone before him. He knew it probably wouldn’t be long until they came for him, and, as much as he would have liked to fight back, he was no longer sure of the point.

  There was one thing he was sure about, though—he was next on the chopping block.

  Chapter 21

  The familiar sound of a key turning in the lock made Alex’s tired eyes snap toward the door of the grim cell. He had moved back to its center, to give himself more distance if he
found himself with the opportunity to bum-rush whoever was on the other side, but the thought stopped dead in its tracks as he saw the figure standing beyond the door. It was not someone he had been expecting.

  Siren Mave stood in the hallway, holding a weighty bunch of keys, peering at him over her horn-rimmed spectacles.

  “If you’d like to follow me, Mr. Webber,” she instructed. “Peacefully, if at all possible. I’ve had enough of strugglers for one evening.” She flashed Alex a warning look, puckering her overly painted lips in displeasure.

  Alex nodded, cautiously following the plump little woman who had waddled on ahead. “What are you doing here?” he asked, still in shock.

  “Oh, you know, keeping things interesting. Sometimes I’m here, sometimes I’m there—I go where I am needed,” she replied cheerfully. “Though you have significantly reduced my enrollment duties at Spellshadow Manor. Quite the little scallywag you turned out to be, hm? I knew you were different when you arrived. There was something about you—the rest are always plain as punch, but in you came, and I just knew I’d be seeing you again.” She smiled strangely, readjusting her spectacles as they turned a corner.

  “I wouldn’t say I—” Alex began, but Siren Mave cut him off curtly.

  “No use denying it, Webber—quite the state you left that place in. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or appalled,” she cried. “Mind you, I suppose I do have you to thank for being more part-time now. More time for myself, you know? I always meant to do it, but you’ve done it for me,” she mumbled as they walked through a few more corridors.

  Alex had been so surprised to see her that he found he no longer felt the previous trepidation coursing through his body.

  As they passed through another set of hallways, he felt a spike of curiosity; it struck him as odd that, along the way, there were so few guards. What was there to stop him from running away? He couldn’t see any walls or barriers either.

  “Don’t even contemplate it, Mr. Webber—don’t even begin to think about contemplating it. I may be small, but I can take you down without moving more than my pinky finger,” she warned, somehow preempting his train of thought.

  Glancing at her, with her dumpy frame and elaborate spectacles, and her cheeks glowing from too much blush, Alex thought she didn’t look like a typical magical ninja, but there was a confidence in her voice that alarmed him, making him reluctant to test her. A flash in her eyes told him not to dare, and for once he felt he ought to listen.

  “Where are the others?” he asked, once all thoughts of escape had ebbed away.

  She waved her hand, which twinkled with hefty jeweled rings that seemed much too tight for her chubby fingers. “They are safe, although they weren’t nearly as accommodating as you,” she replied. Alex couldn’t tell if she was mocking him, or if that was just her voice; there always seemed to be a hint of some private joke on the tip of her tongue.

  “Yes, but where are they?” he repeated, with growing frustration.

  She turned, meeting him with a stern glare. “They are safe. That is all you need know.”

  Turning back around, she strode off down a side corridor until they reached an unassuming wooden door at the very end. Twisting the handle, Siren Mave pushed it open and stepped into an empty room. It was a plain, square chamber with high stone walls and a bare stone ceiling, with no furniture except for a bench that ran along one side. There didn’t seem to be another exit, or any windows either, but Siren Mave seemed to be searching for something against the far wall. Alex frowned, wondering if this was a holding room of some sort.

  It quickly became apparent that this was merely a brief stop-off, as Siren Mave held a black doorknob to a section of wall and twisted, revealing another doorway behind it. It reminded him of his first day at Spellshadow, when he had met Elias for the first time, only this seemed less strange to him now. It was almost par for the wizarding course, to see doors and entrances where they shouldn’t be. As she opened the door, she wasted no time in ushering Alex through it, forcing him past the threshold with a firm shove in the back.

  The door opened out onto an antechamber, with a set of large, white double doors ahead. They were tall and imposing, and Alex wondered if, somewhere along the line, he had actually died and this was his arrival at the pearly gates. It would make a lot of sense, he mused wryly as he followed Siren Mave, pondering with amusement whether that made her a squat archangel of some kind. A sudden glare from her alarmed him, leaving him wondering if she could hear his thoughts. However, he didn’t have time to think about the strange little woman rooting through his brain, as she knocked on one of the vast doors and shoved him through, before disappearing behind him with a twist of her magical door handle.

  The whole journey had left him truly disoriented, and it was only made worse as he stepped into the most beautiful office, which looked more like a greenhouse than a place of work. Above his head, there was a glass ceiling that let in the hazy glow of the daylight, bathing everything in golden sunshine. Exotic, fruit-bearing trees and plants were growing healthily all around the room, which was especially warm, encouraging the lemons and limes and oranges to swell to a tantalizing plumpness. There were olives too, and some fruits Alex didn’t recognize, though everything looked ripe and inviting. The whole office, in and among the foliage, was tastefully decorated in white and chrome, the lines crisp and clean, and there was an impressive white marble desk at the very head of the room, set in front of a large window that looked out upon the lake.

  The sight of it made Alex bubble with rage, to note that the Headmistress’s window, too, looked out onto the lake filled with the buried remains of his people. He wondered bitterly what their obsession was with such a gruesome trophy.

  Does it make you feel almighty? he thought sourly as he watched the water shimmer beneath the sunlight.

  Alypia was sitting behind the desk, her white hair almost glowing in the warm sunlight, like a halo around her beautiful face. With a slender, graceful arm, she gestured for Alex to come and sit too. He walked forward, his hands still manacled, and sat in a large, high-backed chair that was covered in pure white fur from an animal Alex couldn’t identify. In keeping with her murderous theme, he thought as he plonked himself down on the soft upholstery.

  Smiling kindly, she held out her hands for his manacled wrists. He obliged, allowing her to take them off with a small key she wore around her neck. The cold, sapping energy of the ivy drained from his body, giving it life again as he rubbed the chafed skin of his wrists.

  Looking up, he became speechless for a moment. He had known Alypia to be a truly beautiful woman, but in close quarters she was utterly mesmerizing, stealing the very breath from his lungs. There was an intelligence and grace about her that Alex found hypnotic, and, as much as he wanted to despise her, he found that he couldn’t. One look into her strange eyes and he was rendered awestruck again.

  “I am the Crown Princess Alypia, but you may refer to me as Headmistress,” she stated, her voice clear and regal.

  “What have you done with my friends?” he asked, regaining his voice. “Are they okay? Tell me where they are!”

  She smiled. “May I offer you something to drink, before we get into the nitty-gritty of negotiations?” she suggested, her voice showing light amusement.

  Alex frowned, wondering what she meant by “negotiations”, but his thirst got the better of him. “A drink would be great,” he replied evenly, feeling the dryness of his tongue and the rasp of his parched throat.

  Nodding primly, Alypia turned to the table beside her and lifted two crystal glasses onto the desk. Slowly, she poured a pale, sparkling liquid from an ornate glass jug, the handle shaped like an ancient Roman goddess, into the two crystal chalices, and pushed one across the marble surface toward him.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he wanted a drink anymore. Watching the bubbles rise, he couldn’t help but feel wary; he knew Alypia was not to be trusted. She could have slipped poison into it or something, wi
thout him knowing.

  As if sensing his mistrust, Alypia picked up the glass she had poured for herself, from the same jug, and sipped the contents, assuring him of its purity. Tentatively, he lifted his own glass to his lips and drank deep of the sweet liquid. It tasted a bit like the sparkling juice he and his mom always had on New Year’s Eve. Whatever it was, it quenched his thirst in an instant, leaving him free to ask his questions again.

  “What have you done with my friends?” he pressed, draining the glass dry.

  Her strange eyes glittered. “They are all well. They have all been treated as you have,” she explained, apparently unwilling to elaborate.

  “How is Ellabell? What have you done with her? And Natalie? Are they okay?”

  Alypia grinned, flashing Alex a knowing look as he spoke of Ellabell. The expression made Alex worry, hoping he had not given her a weapon she might use against him—an exploitation of something she might see as a weakness. He waited for an axe to fall, but it did not; if she had plans to utilize his affections for Ellabell, she wasn’t ready to put them into action just yet.

  “The two girls are well,” assured Alypia.

  “And the two boys—Aamir and Jari?”

  Alypia smirked. “Jari has been… something of a handful, shall we say. But dear Aamir has been more than compliant. He is recuperating well in the infirmary after his… recent illness,” she said softly, offering glimmers of awareness as she spoke. There was a knowledge in her words that made Alex suspicious, and he wondered why she was referring to the older boy as ‘dear’ Aamir. There was familiarity in the way she spoke his name.