Blood and Roses

Chapter 13

Stella

I sat against the wall, hitting my head against the back of the wall. I wasn't like Mom--I wasn't badass enough to rip myself free and go on a killing spree. Instead, I sat there powerless.

"If you stay angry any longer, you might end up turning into your mom."

"Dad?"

He was standing in the shadows, leaning against the wall. His eyes seemed to burn in the shadow, but there was a relaxed easiness about him, like he'd seen some truth about life that I didn't know about.

"Stella."

"How'd you get here?"

"I'm not here," Dad said, holding up his hand. A black circle appeared around his fingers. "It's a projection spell."

He shook off the circle, "I knew you were pissed at me, but I had no idea you were mad at yourself too."

"How could I not be? I'm the one who got thrown into this stupid spell. If I knew weapons magic--"

"If you knew weapons magic, you would still be in this situation," Dad said. "I was able to teach your mom weapons magic because she grew up going from one battle to another. She was a fighter. But you aren't."

"That's just it. If I was a fighter--"

"Your mom had to kill so you wouldn't know what it felt like to grow up at wartime. Trust me, it's not all it's hyped up to be."

"But I want to know how to defend myself."

"You already know how to defend yourself."

"Not like Mom."

"Is that what this is about?"

"If I learned weapons magic, I could get out of here."

I felt like a broken record.

"No. There are some problems even magic can't solve."

Dad's projection flickered.

"Find a way to get out of this cell on your own. I won't help."

"Dad--"

The projection disappeared.

I sighed, hitting my head against the wall. I knew he was right--he was always right. That just left the question of how I would get out of here.

I looked down at the ground.

"Levitate," I whispered. A piece of straw that must've been tracked in on somebody's shoes rose and flew toward me. I caught it, sticking the pointy end into the cuff. So Geneva didn't think I was a threat enough on my own. The lock clicked and I pulled myself free of the cuffs, rubbing my wrist as I stood.

"Loosen," I said, putting my head against the wall. The screws of the bars came undone, leaving the bars loose. That was almost too easy. Now to get up to the window above my head, which led out into freedom.

I took a deep breath, slipping my fingers into a grove in the stonework above my head. I pulled myself up. My fingers slipped, sweat slicking my palms. No. I moved my foot to a new place, pulling up again. My hand touched the window, my other foot slipping. For a moment, my heart roared in my ears.

Is this what Dad meant? Because I don't think this is what he meant. The cuffs were immune to magic, but not physical objects. It had been too easy to loosen the screws on the bars, but I wasn't thinking about that as I hoisted myself up until I was on the window ledge. I pushed out the bars, falling to the ground outside. We weren't that far from the ground, so I dropped down.