"Time to rest," said Armestrong, bustling into the infirmary with Min. They both held two mugs of something sweetly steaming. "Warm tea to douse the nerves. Min, isn't there something calming you can add? You made that salve yesterday, didn't you?"
Min strained a few buds of chamomile and lavender into each of the mugs, which Ada would have certainly found soothing had Armestrong not been peering over her shoulder to check she was indeed finishing the tea. But when she was finally alone beneath her blankets, Ada didn't seek out sleep like the rest of the bandits.
Curled up on one side, Ada wriggled out of her overclothes and unfolded her grandmother's letter. The creamy envelope had been smeared with soot and grime, but her name was still swirled across in navy ink. Ada's heartbeat thrummed within her fingertips as she tore it open.
A single slip of paper was inside, but before Ada could retrieve it, something tumbled out into her hand. It was a glass flower, cool as crystal with a delicate head of lilac petals. It felt as though it might snap between Ada's fingers, but she couldn't stop turning it over and around, as though the curve of its stem skirted some fragile secret.
So enchanting was the flower that it took Ada several moments to remember her letter. The paper was thick and folded, weighed down with what Ada thought was sure to be a thousand words, every one resolving a mystery that had haunted her since her fall down the Wishing Well. But Ada's excitement faded when she saw that the letter was only three lines long.
Words are worth more than wishes.
May you be wiser than I ever was and love as deeply as I do you.
Gran.
Ada's eyes burned with tears, and she pressed her lips together against the sudden sob welling up from her chest. The rupture between Ada's body and her world suddenly felt fresh and tender, every part of her aching for its loss. She grasped the glass flower until the shape of it was pressed into her skin. Then, Ada reread her grandmother's letter until sleep swept away the words.
She jolted awake with letter and flower still in hand. The infirmary was hushed and only Armestrong's soft snores drifted between the bunk beds. Time was never easy to tell within the Stone Circle, but no matter the hour, Ada doubted she would be able to fall back to sleep. Her heart was thumping as though she had woken from a nightmare, the howls of dogs sinking away into the earth.
Throwing a blanket around her shoulders, Ada clambered down into the infirmary. Her eyes were so bleary with sleep that at first, she missed Min huddled in the corner, the girl's face ashen aside from the deep shadows above her cheeks.
"Min," Ada whispered, coming to crouch beside her. "It's early. You should go back to bed."
Min mutely shook her head, limp curls falling over her eyes as she turned towards the wall.
"What's the matter?" Ada tried again. "Did you have a bad dream?"
"I'm scared."
"You're safe down here, Min," Ada told her, feeling for her shoulder in the darkness. "The Stone Circle will protect you, and you'll be with Armestrong and Hester while we're away."
"It's not me," Min said, opening her hand to reveal her silver coin. "I'm scared that you'll leave tonight and won't come back. I'm scared that I can't help you."
Ada glanced at the beds on the opposite side of the infirmary. The lumps of blankets that were Armestrong and Lark still slept soundly, so Ada reached over and took Min's hand.
"Come on," she said. "Let's go for a walk."
As Ada and Min moved through the empty passageways, sage-lights bobbed around their legs like a stream of fallen stars. Ada knew where she wanted to go, and so the small fires lit her way up the sloping paths of rock until they reached the crypt. There was a quiet only death could conjure, and Ada was wondering what to say when Min stepped alone towards the graves.
The white tombs towered over her like spirits, and in the pale light, she walked between the rows of the dead and stopped before her mother. She didn't cry. Min simply stood and stared at the grave as though waiting for her mother to say some voiceless line. Or reach out with formless fingers. But the dust lay still and settled, and the dead remained bones and powder. Time passed, in either seconds or hours, until Min placed a small hand inside her tunic and drew out a pocketbook.
The book was old and worn, its cover creased to fit the lines of Min's hands. Its tie of purple twine was knotted into a bow, identical to the collection of other books amassed on the grave. Without a word, Min clambered up onto the tomb and began to crawl between the book stacks. When she reached the headstone, not a paper had fallen, and she placed her own pocketbook down beneath the word engraved there. Fontaine.
"Thank you," Min whispered.
Whether she had said it to Ada or to some other presence in the crypt remained unknown, for she then shut her eyes and pressed her forehead against the inscribed stone. Ada waited a long while before she realised Min had fallen back to sleep and, picking up the girl as best she could, moved to return to bed. As she left, Ada wondered whether the sun had risen above in Wysthaven, for the crypt felt warmer than it had when they had entered.
The rest of the day passed in short conversations followed by deep silences. Food felt soft and tasteless in Ada's mouth, and her hands trembled as she tried to lace up her ball gown in the evening. She had been right; the corset crushed the breath from her lungs. Still, she belted the iron and silver daggers to her thigh, finding her dress' right pocket had been cleverly left unstitched at the bottom. Into the other, she slipped her grandmother's glass flower.
When night came, Hester led them all to the antechamber where the bandits had first entered into the Stone Circle. Tall candles lit with long flames bulged up from the floorboards, the carved doorways looking like tooth-gaps in their darkness. The barrels and crates once stacked against the walls were gone now, and the antechamber seemed oddly empty for their absence. Once so grand and imposing, Ada realised it was merely a hollow chest of rock with missing purpose and fugitive life.
"You two be careful now," said Armestrong, taking a hand from Lark and Ada in each of her own. "Don't go putting yourselves in more danger than is necessary. You keep your heads low, you hear me? I can't go losing another one of you."
She broke off with a loud sniff, waving away Min as she dragged a large handkerchief from her apron. Her cheeks were ruddier than usual in the candlelit chamber, and she turned her eyes away from their quivering flames. Weighed down in his finery, Lark flung his arms around Armestrong and clung to her like a son to his mother.
"Oh, dear boy." Armestrong tossed aside her handkerchief and gathered Lark into her broad chest.
"You'll look after her, won't you?" he wailed.
"Who? Min?" asked Armestrong, smoothing his hair. "Of course I will."
"No," cried Lark, "my darling lute!"
Armestrong pulled away, prepared to scold him, but then she saw Lark's pale attempt at a smile. Holding his hands between her own, she pressed his fingers to her rough lips. "Play us a pretty tune when you get back, won't you?"
Lark's lip wobbled, or perhaps it had been a flicker of the light, because he then straightened his shoulders until his cape swept cleanly down his back. Returning to Ada's side, he gave her a nod, and the fox on his chest shone in stitches of gold.
A door opened above, and Edmere descended from his study, pale eyes skimming over Armestrong and Min to fix upon Ada. Yue came behind him like a shadow, dressed in a suit of black with her dark hair slicked out of her face. Her lips were stuck in a sneer as she stalked across the room to stand silently by the passage to the copper ladder.
"Thank you for your help." Ada tried to nod to Yue, but when the fae only stared straight ahead, she continued on, "I'm sure we'll be back very soon."
She said it as a comfort for Min, who Ada knew would be worrying throughout the night. But it was also a promise to Edmere that this time she would not falter in finding the name of the Saltsworn. Even if it meant she must climb the tower of Wysthaven itself.
"I hope that you shall be successful in your task," Edmere said, his eyes flaring silver in the candlelight. "Like stones under pressure, you must come together and grow stronger tonight."
Ada wasn't certain how to reply, but Yue appeared stirred by his words as she stepped now to stand on the other side of Lark.
"Then go, now," Edmere continued. "And may the moon guide you with pure and courageous intent."
Without a farewell, Yue turned on her heel and strode into the passageway behind them. Lark held Armestrong's eye for a final moment, then took a breath and turned to follow her. Ada could only look at Min, who had not been given a moment to say her goodbyes. Before she also stepped back into the passage, she gave her a small smile, and saw Min's brown eyes shine ferociously in response. She held a small hand against her heart, and within it, Ada saw the edges of her silver coin.
She turned towards darkness, and the ladder beyond, when a claw closed around her wrist. Ada gasped, looking down to see Hester's hand tightening on her arm, the old fae's skin as white as marble. Her face crumpled between its creases as her lips began to move like the fluttering flesh of an open wound.
"Wishmaker," Hester rasped, blind eyes upturned. "So far from home. The rise and the fall, drenched wet to bone dry." She stuttered, as though struggling for breath, and in the silence Ada saw shards of an early city and a dark cavern split before her. "Forged in iron and salt and agony."
Hester staggered back, fingers releasing Ada whilst her body collapsed as if melted by the candles. Nobody moved and Hester said no more. Though Ada didn't need to be told the rest. She had heard it before: Agony you alone will bring.