Millissa Page 2

  “Your old dad’s finally lost his mind. Either way, you’re finished. If you spin the gold, you’ll be executed for being a witch, and if you fail, you’ll hang for defying the King.”

  She trembled at the thought.

  “But I can help you,” said Gustav.

  Her head snapped up. “R-really?”

  His grin broadened. “Take off the wimple first.”

  Millissa’s hands shook, and she reached for the garment. The men snickered, and her hands stilled. She glared at Gustav’s leering face. “Why should I take it off?”

  “We want to see what we’re getting.”

  She stepped back. “What?”

  “You don’t expect us to risk the King’s wrath to save your hide if you ain’t worth the effort.”

  Millissa dropped her hands to her sides. “I don’t think you mean to rescue me at all.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m rather busy.”

  Even though she could not see her childhood tormentor, she could hear his angry, panting breath. The sound of fists banging against wood made her jump.

  “You mark my words, Millissa Barleigh.” His voice was a low growl. It shook with barely concealed rage. “When he turns you over to us for the hunt, me and me mates are going to make sure there’s nothing left of you to stagger home.”

  “Oh, I believe you,” said Millissa. She had nothing to lose, but hysteria pulled the next words from her lips. “I expect you said something similar to poor Maud before drowning her.”

  An explosive roar echoed in the chamber, and he pummeled the door with his fists and feet. Millissa shrunk away to a part of the cell out of view of the door, but she felt some vindication that she could regain control, however petty, over the man. She leaned against the wall, listening to the other soldiers tell Gustav to calm down or someone would come. Their mutterings proved to her two things: that she’d identified Maud’s killer and that Gustav and his companions had no intentions to assist her. If they had a key, the man would either be unlocking the door right now, or bellowing for his companions to open it for him.

  They left soon after that, and Millissa studied the ceiling for weak points. It was a futile effort, but what choice did she have? She still couldn’t fathom what had possessed Father to make such outlandish claims. He wasn’t even that drunk, and up until last year, he’d been a shrewd and calculating man. Nothing significant had happened, apart from him rejecting the proposal of a nobleman when she’d turned eighteen. Father was the first person who believed Lunette’s story, and had immediately forced Millissa to cover up, so she would never fall prey to the King’s hunts. Now, she didn’t know what to think. Father wouldn’t spend a decade protecting Millissa, only to hand her over to the very man later.

  She sat at the stool and turned the spinning wheel and laughed sadly. As a miller’s daughter and an alewife, she’d never been required to learn to spin. It just seemed so unfair.

  The spinning wheel tilted, and Millissa stood. Something underneath it was moving. She pushed the heavy, wooden item out of the way, only to see a loose floor stone underneath. Hope flooded her chest like water going over a wheel. Small fingers poked through the gap in the stone, and Millissa helped her savior by wedging it to the side.

  A furred head poked out of the hole. It was Donkeyskin, the girl from the palace steps, her face even grimier than before, but her eyes shone in the lantern light. “Come with me, Miss. I know a way out.”

  Millissa could have wept with gratitude. “Thank you so much!”

  “The tunnel leads to the old palace. You’re okay with that, aren’t you?”

  Gulping, Millissa nodded. Anything, even howling ghosts, was better than being in this cell. Donkeyskin’s head disappeared down the opening, and Millissa lowered herself into the hole. Her feet hit dry soil, and she had to crawl to traverse the low space. It was dark in the tunnel, and even darker when the girl dragged the stone to cover their escape route.

  “Where’s my father?” asked Millissa. “We need to get him, so we can all leave together.”

  Donkeyskin stilled. “He’s in the dungeons. The King locked him up when he admitted you couldn’t even spin. If you don’t make the gold, he’s going to be hung.”

  Millissa froze. “Is there a tunnel leading there?”

  “No. We’d better hurry before someone finds out you’re missing.”

  “I can’t leave him.” As soon as the words left Millissa’s mouth, she cringed.

  “And you can’t spin straw into gold,” said the girl. “There’s no way of rescuing your father without getting caught and I’m not risking my life for someone who’d put his daughter in peril.”

  Millissa stilled. Father could be a violent bully and a brute, and his actions were unforgivable, but she couldn’t save herself while he languished in a dungeon. “It was the drink talking, not him. Whatever he’s done, he’s the only parent I have left.”

  “So you’re not coming with me?” asked Donkeyskin, her voice flat.

  A sob rushed out of Millissa’s chest. Of course she wanted to escape with the girl. Every fiber in her being was urging her run, start a new life and leave Father to face the consequences of the mess he’d created. But she knew in her heart that if she followed her common sense, her conscience would plague her for the rest of her days. “I can’t, if he’s going to be executed because of me. Somehow, I have to find a way to spin that gold.”

  After some shuffling and huffing, Donkeyskin lifted the boulder, and light streamed into the tunnel. Millissa crawled past, stood into the opening and climbed out. She gazed into Donkeyskin’s eyes, still marveling at their color. “I appreciate what you’ve tried to do for me, and I’m sorry for not coming with you.”

  The girl bit her lip and lowered her gaze. “There is a way to make that gold, but there’s no guarantee the King won’t execute you afterward.”

  Millissa’s heart sped up. She knelt on the stone floor, leaning as close to Donkeyskin as she could. “Please, tell me.”

  “And it’s dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

  “I’ll try anything.”

  “I can show you the ritual for summoning an imp.”

  Millissa’s mouth dropped open. “I thought they couldn’t appear in the Seven Kingdoms anymore because of all the fairy iron.”

  “This one can.”

  “Aren’t they evil tricksters?”

  “That’s why you have to be careful. It will try to help you in exchange for a boon, but they can be worse than death. If you have anything of value, offer it up. That will be a fair exchange, and it won’t be able to demand anything else.”

  Millissa’s hand flew to the gold necklace she always wore under her clothing. It was finer than anything she’d ever seen on a noblewoman and was the only thing she had left of Mother. She’d pressed it into Millissa’s hand on her deathbed, warning her never to show it to Father, or he would sell it for drink. Swallowing, she nodded. It would hurt to hand over her only heirloom, but to save her last remaining parent, she would sacrifice anything. “Thank you, Donkeyskin. But I have to ask, why are you helping me?”

  The other girl stood and grabbed Millissa’s hand. “He usually keeps the girls in the dungeons, where I can’t always reach them. I can’t tell you how hard it is to be powerless to stop someone from suffering.” Tears filled her eyes. “And you remind me of my mother.”

  Millissa guessed that Donkeyskin’s mother died when she was young. She didn’t want to ask, because she knew the pain of talking about Mother, and she wouldn’t inflict it on anyone else. Donkeyskin handed Millissa a small knife and explained the ritual, drawing out runes on the stone floor with saliva and dirt from the tunnel. It seemed easy enough, but the thought of approaching such a creature for help made her flesh crawl.

  Chapter 3

  Several minutes after Donkeyskin had left, Millissa stared at the palm of her left hand, working up the courage to pierce it with the dagger. The an
ticipated pain wasn’t a problem for her, but she recalled the girl’s warning not to express any shock at the imp’s appearance. She sucked in a deep breath, wondering how hideous the creature must be to warrant such advice.

  Millissa shook her head and exhaled. The more time she wasted pondering these matters, the closer she got to dawn, and the less time the imp had to spin the gold. She pierced the heel of her hand, let the blood pool in the palm, and traced over the runes on the floor. Strangely, she had seen them several times around town, never knowing what they meant, but now, she supposed that lots of people had made deals with imps.

  With a faint pop, a small, hooded figure knelt in front of her. It was the size of a ten-year-old child, but had the smell of a slaughter house. She gulped and stared off to the side, so as not to view the creature full in the face and react.

  “Who calls me?” said a high-pitched voice.

  Millissa’s insides jumped. She had not expected the imp to sound female. “I-I do. My name’s Millissa Barleigh, and I’m in trouble.”

  “Speak then, and I will consider your request.” It did not raise its head.

  “W-well, for some reason, the King thinks I can spin straw into gold, and he’s going to execute my father and me if I don’t.”

  “That usurper,” it spat.

  Millissa gulped. She had always supposed that if magical beings dwelled within Autumn, they would be neutral about politics. “So, I need your help to make all the gold.”

  The imp stood and stared Millissa in the face. Since her jaws were already clamped, and she wasn’t looking directly at the creature, all she saw was a pale visage within the hood, framed with silver hair. She turned her gaze to the imp, bracing herself to see three eyes, a pit for a nose or sharp, pointy teeth, but froze at what she saw instead.

  Two eyes, shimmering like liquid mercury, stared back at her. The imp’s lashes were as silver as its hair, and it had an attractive face, with rounded features. Millissa made sure not to marvel at the creature’s beauty, but instead, stared back without expression.

  After a few moments, the imp nodded, seemingly satisfied with Millissa’s reaction. “It will be my pleasure to help you.”

  Millissa pulled the necklace from around her head and held it in front of the imp. “This belonged to my mother, and it’s very dear to me, but I want you to have it in exchange.”

  The imp stretched out its hand and scooped the pendant into its palm. “Why would a commoner be in possession of King October’s personal seal?”

  Millissa gasped. “My mother worked at the old palace, but she would never steal—”

  “And I am suggesting nothing of the sort. This is an item offered only to those who held the favor of the deceased King. My mother was a lady-in-waiting to the former Queen, and she possessed a pendant similar to yours.”

  Nodding, Millissa suppressed the urge to ask how a noblewoman could birth an imp. If the creature didn’t like people reacting to its appearance, it probably wouldn’t take kindly to her questioning its parentage. “My mother was a servant.”

  The imp pushed the necklace back into Millissa’s hands and turned to the spinning wheel. “Keep it. I will make the gold.”

  Millissa’s insides turned to ice. “No!” She hoped the imp wouldn’t take offense and her tone of voice. “It’s only fair that you have this in exchange for your efforts.”

  The imp took back the necklace and shoved it into the pocket of its cloak. It dragged the stool to the spinning wheel and sat. With a wave of its hands, the straw gathered itself into fleece-like clumps. It flew through the orifice of the spindle, around the flyer and onto the bobbin.

  Relieved, Millissa sat on the floor and crossed her legs. The spinning wheel moved at a ridiculous rate, and in seconds, the bobbin was filled with golden wool.

  “Stop looking at me,” the creature snapped.

  “I wasn’t,” said Millissa. “It’s just that I’ve never seen anyone turn straw into gold.”

  The imp turned to Millissa, its eyes cold. “Fine.”

  She froze, but when it turned back to the spinning wheel, she exhaled. Perhaps the imp had been shunned by humans because it looked different to everyone else. Her gaze drifted to its back where two sharp lumps protruded through the cloak. Millissa gulped, imagining stunted wings underneath the fabric. She dropped her head and stared into her hands.

  “He was a soldier, you know,” it said.

  Millissa’s head snapped up. “Huh?”

  “The usurper.” The words came out through gritted teeth. “He fought against the ogres on behalf of the fairies.”

  “Oh.” Snippets of information about the King were passed around the populace, but very few people in Autumn liked to talk about him. Even the most innocent comments overheard by the wrong ears could get a person thrown into prison or executed for sedition. It was safer to pretend the King didn’t exist.

  “He deserted and found himself an enchanted tinderbox.”

  Millissa’s mouth opened. She’d always wondered why they called him the Tinder King.

  “I remember when he arrived in Autumn, looking like a Duke and talking like a gong farmer.” The imp snorted. “Everyone laughed at him behind his back, putting on airs and graces like that. Some of them even mocked him openly.” The imp turned its quicksilver eyes to Millissa. “He lacked the subtlety to recognize a well-crafted barb.”

  “I didn’t know…”

  “Of course you wouldn’t. How old are you, fifteen?”

  Millissa bristled. “Eighteen.”

  “You would have been three when the Tinder King arrived on our shores.”

  Millissa nodded. “How did he manage to take over?”

  “Maybe he knew he was the butt of everyone’s jokes, but he didn’t care, because he was at court, living a lifestyle a soldier could never dream of. The idiot had no clue he was the unwitting court jester. He seemed to have an endless supply of money and thought he could buy the court’s affections.”

  “Let me guess. The money ran out, and they ditched him.”

  The imp grinned. “Not only that, but the barbs weren’t so subtle anymore. Mother told me he actually wept when King October ejected him from the palace. I even felt sorry for him at the time.”

  Millissa leaned forward, elbows propped on the floor, resting her chin on the heels of her hands, careful to avoid her cut. The straw flew through the mechanics of the spinning wheel, turning from a dull yellow to a shimmering gold. When the bobbin filled, a ball of wool the size of a tankard rolled to the side.

  “Only one person felt pity for the wretch: Princess Acacia. She was about your age at the time. Perhaps a year younger. A beautiful girl.” The imp stopped and stared hard at Millissa. “Take off your wimple.”

  “Why?”

  “Do as I say!”

  Millissa’s throat went dry. She stared back at the creature, not knowing how to proceed. It didn’t look male, but then, it definitely was no woman.

  It rolled its eyes. “I have no interest in your virtue. Let me look at you for a second.”

  After a brief hesitation, she pulled off the garment. Cold air rushed to her neck, making her shiver, but she thought the imp’s intense gaze could be partially to blame.

  “Unpin your hair.”

  Millissa’s gaze darted to the mountain of straw. She had no idea how many hours she’d been stuck in the dungeon, but the longer she dithered over the imp’s demands, the less time it had to make the gold. The King seemed the type of man to execute her for a job half-done, so she loosened her hair, letting her golden curls fall to her shoulders.

  The imp’s eyes grew wide. Then it snorted and continued its work.

  “Why did you want to see me uncovered?” asked Millissa.

  One side of the imp’s mouth curved upward. “I can tell you everything in exchange for a boon.”

  She shook her head. “No thank you.”

  The imp laughed and doubled the speed of its production. Millissa raised her arms, rea
dy to braid her hair and put on the wimple, but the imp held out a hand. “If you want to guarantee your survival, keep your hair loose.”

  Millissa’s hands dropped to her sides. She refused to ask why, in case the imp offered her another boon. “So the Princess took pity on him?”

  “Yes. Princess Acacia was beautiful, clever, but soft-hearted. She used to order the stable master to splint the legs of infirm horses to save them from slaughter. It was this misguided kindness that got her family killed.”

  The imp rolled its eyes. “Who knows how it happened, but the Princess began a clandestine relationship with the unworthy soldier. When King October discovered the secret trysts, he ordered the man to be hanged.”

  Millissa gasped. “Did he punish the Princess, too?”

  “If you call locking her up in a tower punishment, I suppose he did. She wasn’t even permitted to attend the execution, but she could watch it from her window.”

  Millissa pictured the town square where people were routinely hanged or decapitated as a warning to others. “How could she see anything from so far?”

  A bitter laugh came from the imp. “Do you think King October would advertise that a common soldier had sullied his daughter? He planned on hanging the man in the palace gardens. Only his closest companions attended. King October asked the soldier whether he had any last requests. Maybe he wanted to hear the man beg for one last kiss from the Princess, then laugh in his face and refuse. Who knows?”

  “What did the soldier ask for?”

  “His tinderbox.”

  Millissa’s hand flew to her mouth. “The enchanted one?”

  The imp nodded. “He said he wanted a smoke and to light it from his beloved box. Since it seemed like a harmless request, the King allowed it. I was watching from my room as I’d never visited the grounds.”

  So the imp had been kept hidden by its mother in the palace. Millissa kept her silence and waited for the imp to continue. Its beautiful face wrinkled into a scowl. It hunched on the stool, looking like it could incinerate the spinning wheel with its eyes. “The soldier struck a match on the tinder box, and three monstrous hounds appeared. The smallest had eyes the size of saucers, the next eyes like waterwheels and the third’s eyes were as large as a round tower.”