The light had cut through the gloom of Uarria's chamber like an instantly-risen sun, immediate and blinding and hot. In its wake had come a silence that was even more sudden, even more frightening; the hairs on the back of Uarria's neck had stood up.
Now, the little girl sat frozen in her bed, an arm over her eyes, unable to move or even to think for fear. When she blinked, the flash of light reappeared again and again before her, and an acrid scent pervaded the room—something Uarria had never smelled before but which seemed sickeningly familiar.
When Uarria lowered her arm at last, that light-spot still obscuring her vision, Ealin was stepping over the body of a man who was lying on the ground.
When Ouchie's friend had come to stay with her, Uarria had been glad. She liked Ealin. She did not see the woman often, but when she did, Ealin was always kind. Now, though, fear had brought tears to Uarria's eyes and robbed her of her wits. Her fists trembled as she wiped them over her cheeks.
"Shh," Ealin said, giving Uarria a look of such tender sympathy that the Uarria began to cry in earnest. She approached the princess's bed. "Come, sweet; we must go, and quickly."
Uarria could not bring herself to move. When Ealin took hold of her arm and pulled her off of the bed, her legs were weak. Then, all at once, Uarria was in Ealin's arms, and they were darting toward the door. Uarria put her arms around Ealin's neck and looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Hastor lying motionless on the tiled floor, smoke rising from his stomach. She could not see him properly as she was jostled in Ealins' arms. In seconds, they were in the hallway, and Hastor was left behind.
"What happened?" Uarria asked.
"He's fallen asleep." Ealin kept running.
Normally, there were guards outside of Uarria's chambers. Arris had accompanied Sorinna, Uarria's nurse, who had gone after a late-night snack. Now, with Hastor suddenly sleeping and Arris nowhere to be found, the hall where Uarria's quarters lay was deserted.
A voice sounded from somewhere up ahead. Ealin ducked into an alcove at once, clapping a hand over Uarria's mouth. With a soft sound of distress, Uarria looked up at Ealin in alarm. She sensed from the woman's posture and her breathless silence that something was terribly wrong.
She curled in to Ealin, closing her eyes.
"Shh," Ealin breathed. She stood where she was, stiff and still, and the moment passed. Then, she peeked around the corner of the alcove, and a second later, they were running again.
"Where are we going?" Uarria whispered. Ealin ducked into another alcove, and before Uarria could place where they were, they were descending a darkened stairway, down into a place she had never been. It was dark and cool. Rather than spirit globes, which were still used in many parts of the upper palace, there were lamps burning at intervals along the walls—lamps illuminated with real fire.
"Be quiet, little one. You must be very quiet." Ealin set her down at the foot of the stair. Then she paused, raking a hand back through her long, dark hair, and in the wake of her slender fingers, the color bled out of her silken tresses. They lengthened, falling over Ealin's shoulder and down past her waist. With every stroke of Ealin's fingers, her hair became paler and longer.
Uarria watched this transformation with a fascination that bordered on horror. She had never seen anything like it before.
Ealin had always worn a lock of her hair braided, just behind her ear, but now she rapidly combed the lengths of her hair with her fingers and parted it, beginning to braid it down over her shoulder. As she did this, she glanced over her shoulder up the stairway whence they had come, her expression taut and watchful.
Uarria watched her, shifting on her feet, her tears forgotten in her wonder. "You have hair like Mother now," she murmured. Ealin, looking down at her, smiled. She blinked her dark eyes, and when she opened them, they were lighter.
"Do I?" she asked. "Your mother is very pretty, isn't she?"
Before Uarria could ask the dozen questions that crowded her mind, Ealin took her by the hand and began tugging her along.
It was so late. Uarria wondered how the two of them could be up and about. She was certain that if her mother or father learned that she was roaming the palace in the dark of the night, she would be reprimanded.
They turned down another short passageway, the walls punctuated by closed doors. The newly-blonde Ealin then chose another stair, which led them up, and Uarria did her best to follow.
"Where are we going?" she asked again.
"Shh!" Ealin was sharp now; the sound of her hissed command in the echoing passageway startled Uarria, and she nearly fell backward off the step. Ealin's grasp tightened on her arm, tugging her up close to her side.
This place Uarria recognized as the kitchens. It was a place Uarria had been only once in her life, when Mother had brought her down. Madam Gella, who Uarria thought must have been Mother's mother, had not seemed happy about Uarria being down here...but Mother had brought her anyway, and the two of them had spent the afternoon making little pies of the kind Uarria so loved to eat with her tea.
Now, in the dark, the place was gloomy and frightening. There was no one here; long shadows stretched across the floor, and the shapes that had been intriguing in the midafternoon light were ominous. Even the baskets of vegetables sitting underneath the work counters, ready for the next day's lunch preparations, seemed grotesque. They were all bumps and straggling leaves.
Ealin did not give Uarria time to look around and be properly afraid. She pulled her onward through the kitchens, past the work counter where Mhera and Uarria had made their pies, past the oven, now cold, where they had baked them, and on to a narrow passageway at the very end. At the end of this passageway was yet another set of stairs, and Uarria struggled to keep up as Ealin urged her onward.
She wanted to ask where they were going, but Ealin had shushed her so sharply before that Uarria kept her lips tightly shut. She was an energetic child and an adventurous one, but a good one, too. From her father, she had inherited her fun-loving nature, but from her mother, a deep sense of obedience. Now, with an adult she knew she should trust after such a frightening evening of confusing events, Uarria was quiet.
At the top of the stairs was a heavy wooden door. Ealin paused there, listening, and then she tried the handle. It did not turn.
She closed her eyes and another, smaller jolt of light split the darkness, hurting Uarria's eyes. The door handle fell away from the door. Ealin caught it before it could fall to the ground, and she laid it gently on the floor.
Outside, a terrible clatter had sounded: it had sent a shock through Uarria's bones.
Ealin eased the door open and peered out into an empty courtyard floored in cobblestones. Uarria had never been here before. The other part of the door handle lay on the cobblestones, gleaming in the night. Far on the other side of the courtyard, past a shadowed wagon, stood a tall, wrought iron gate. On either side of the gate stood a liveried guard with a pike.
Ealin bent and scooped Uarria into her arms, hefting her onto her hip again. Her long braid swayed, falling nearly to her knees, as she hastened into the courtyard.
The guards standing near the gate were looking their way, seeking the source of the noise. The woman turned fully around, her pike held tightly in her hands. When the two of them saw Ealin and Uarria, they jolted into bows.
"Your Grace!" called the woman.
"Open the gate," Ealin replied, her voice taut and trembling.
"Your Grace, what's the matter?" The male guard reached to unlock the gate without questioning Ealin. As it swung inward, its hinges creaking in the night, his companion stepped into the courtyard, her expression deeply concerned.
Ealin raised her hand, and a bolt of white light shot from her fingertips. The magic bolt struck the woman in the chest; it went clean through her. As she wavered on her feet, Uarria could see right through her body. She drew a deep breath to scream, but a hand clapped over her mouth, and her cry was muffled against Ealin's sweating palm.
The other guard's expression of shock melted away in an instant. He surveyed the courtyard in a glance and then stepped to the side, jerking his head. "Hurry. You might have been quieter."
Ealin lifted Uarria into her arms and held her tight. She ran, darting through the gates and out into the night.
The guard, swinging the gate closed behind him, followed.