“I won’t,” Mouse promised. Thornwood snarled at her.
Ignoring him, Mouse turned to Mickelwaithe. “Take her to John’s cottage.”
Thornwood’s mother pressed her son’s hand once before the Faerie servant wrinkled his nose and they both vanished, narrowlyavoiding a shard of falling mirror. Mouse set to work on the lock again, but this time with the point of John’s sword.
“Go,” Thornwood begged. “Do not waste your life on me.”
“Oh, be quiet.” She turned the blade again but had already half given up on the sword point. She looked up into the ballroom, wiping sweat from her eyes. The fire had spread from the candles of the toppled chandeliers to the floor. The flames reflected around the room, heating the air.
All the Faerie courtiers had fled, save Viola and the Faerie King. In the confusion, the former had crumbled to the ground, while the Faerie King leaned over her. Broken goblets littered the floor, as did crushed masks of all shapes and sizes. Mouse hoped that the Faerie servants had absconded with their masters or used the chaos to vanish into the mortal world. She thrust the sword back into its hilt.
“What are you doing?” Thornwood asked.
“Stay here,” Mouse said, pulling off her mask.
Mouse trampled over the ruined ballroom to the Faerie King and his daughter. Behind her, Thornwood hissed warnings and desperate insults at her, but she ignored them. Neither Faerie royal noticed her as she sank beside them on the floor. The Faerie King’s eyes snapped to her when she took Viola’s hand, but he relaxed when he saw his daughter smile at the touch.
“Father, give Mouse the key to Thornwood’s chains and have it over with.”
“But the boy betrayed me,” he said, traces of the spiteful Faerie King returning.
“What does that have to do with Mouse? You want to punish her for something that happened years before her birth? You’ve loved thisgirl like she was your own since she was a child. Doesn’t that mean more to you now than petty revenge?”
“I suppose that it does.” He sighed. With a twist, he pulled a small key from the air. He handed it to Mouse.
She took it and whispered, “Thank you.”
The Faerie King ignored her. She squeezed Viola’s hand one final time, then pushed herself onto her knees.
Not allowing herself time to think it over, Mouse slumped into the Faerie King’s side, arms outstretched in an embrace. He absorbed the blow, his hand still wrapped tight around Viola’s.
“Thank you, Mr.Hobb, and goodbye,” Mouse whispered.
When she pulled away, she saw the glitter of tears in his eyes. Although his features had not changed, there was a softness, a touch of his human expression. He brushed his fingers over her forehead, then moved to her chin, patting it once.
“Go, my dear,” he said.
Clutching the key, Mouse was back on her feet and across the room. Their hushed words reached her as she ran. She turned back to watch, caught in the wake of their conversation.
“Stay with me,” Viola murmured, her lips moving in unison on either side of the crack in her face.
“Always,” Mr.Hobb said, bringing her hand up to his heart. When a new split appeared across Viola’s face, a matching one sprouted on the Faerie King’s. Mouse watched, bewildered and horrified, as they crumbled together into dust.
She forced herself to look away. There was no time. Mouse brushed away her tears and turned back to Thornwood.
The chains came undone the instant the key clicked into the locks.
Thornwood snatched hold of Mouse’s arm and dragged her tothe fractured mirror beside the throne and fireplace. Flames consumed the path to the hallway, and smoke clouded the air.
“Can we use mirror travel?” Mouse asked. “Or escape out the chimney?”
“Not in my state and not with these broken mirrors,” Thornwood said, pressing in vain against the material. “We will have to chance the flames.”
Mouse turned to the doorway, but by then the fire nearly swallowed the wall.
“That is not an option,” Mouse said.
Thornwood growled before he took hold of her hands. “Mouse, I know you cannot forgive me, but you must know I truly do care for you. That was not a trick.”