“A sonic pulse,” Logan says. “The Cursed One will have heard that.”

“Oh, now you’ve done it.” Willow starts climbing higher. “Get in the tree, Quinn!”

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know.” I pull the stick from the ground as a faint thunder rumbles beneath our feet. “It’s Melkin’s stick …”

Melkin, who shoved the stick into the ground while I was busy yelling at him, and then saved me from the Cursed One moments later. Why? Why would he call the beast and put us both in danger like that? I remembered him saying his stick was a gift. Not from Baalboden. Was it possible he hadn’t known what it could do?

I don’t have the answers, and I don’t have time to figure them out. The rumble is growing into a distant roar. We have less than a minute to get to safety.

“Get him up.” I grab one of Logan’s arms while Quinn grabs the other. Ignoring Logan’s gasp of pain, we heave him to his feet.

He sways, and Quinn wraps an arm around him to steady him, but when we start moving toward the nearest tree, we discover Logan’s slow progress is the least of our worries.

The Rowansmark battalion surrounds us, a tight circle of soldiers standing three deep and cutting off any escape from the Cursed One.

CHAPTER SIXTY

LOGAN

We’re surrounded by Rowansmark’s soldiers, their swords drawn as they establish a perimeter forty yards away from us, caging us in. We’ll be destroyed, while they can stay relatively safe if they keep quiet after the Cursed One bursts through the ground in front of us.

We’re going to die.

Willow drops out of the tree above us, swings her bow into position, and stands next to her brother like she doesn’t want him to die without her.

I don’t want to die without Rachel, either. I’m an idiot for not seeing it before. I didn’t dream of her, worry for her, and push myself across the Wasteland for her to fulfill my responsibility to Jared. It took being thrown into a dungeon to realize I need her.

It takes facing imminent death to realize I love her.

I love her.

A fierce light consumes me from the inside out. It blazes through my body until I think there’s no way I can contain it. I don’t want to contain it. I want it to overtake me completely. It’s illogical. Wonderful. Almost painful.

And I’m not going to die without telling her.

She moves against my side, and I turn to her, expecting her to fall into my arms and cling to me while fire consumes us. Instead, she shoves Melkin’s walking stick into my fist and says, “Hold this.”

She doesn’t wait to see if I’ve complied. She’s tugging a roll of black cloth from her cloak pocket, her expression fierce.

“Rachel, I—”

“You can save us,” she says, and pulls a dark gray metallic flute with three finger pads down its center from the middle of the cloth. “Here.”

She trades me the walking stick for the flute. Symbols decorate the top of each finger pad, but I don’t know what they mean. The ground beneath us trembles violently, and the Rowansmark men step back, some of them furtively glancing up at the safety of the trees above them.

“I don’t know—”

“It’s a device to control the Cursed One through sound waves. Push the button to send it away.”

“I don’t know which button that is!”

The ground begins to crack, a jagged seam heading straight for us.

“Better figure it out, tech head, or we’re dead.” Willow hooks her arm through her brother’s and drags them both backward, stopping about fifteen yards from the line of swords behind us.

“I can’t read these symbols.” Panic is beginning to claw at me.

“Experiment, then,” Rachel says. “Deduce. Make connections. Do what you do best.” She grabs my face and looks at me with absolute trust. “I have faith in you.”

The ground twenty yards in front of us explodes and spews the glistening black length of the Cursed One into the air. Its scales glitter beneath the sunlight, and its film-covered eyes swing in our direction as it sniffs the air, huffing puffs of smoke and rumbling in fury.

We’re about to die. I don’t know how to work this thing she’s handed me. I can’t understand the symbols on the finger pads. All the faith in the world won’t change that. Still, I’m going to try. But not before I say what I need to say to her.

“I love you, Rachel.”

Her eyes widen, but before she can say anything, I turn toward the beast and push a button with shaking fingers.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

LOGAN

The beast roars and shakes its body, its scales rattling together like a thousand coins falling on a cobblestone street. Then it gathers itself, swings its muzzle toward us, and bellows. A brilliant crimson-orange fireball explodes out of its mouth and strafes the air above us.

We dive for the ground, and my ribcage screams at me as searing heat rolls over the top of us and sends the men behind us running.

Wrong button.

Panic is a relentless force inside me, erasing every logical thought from my mind. I take a deep breath and fumble with the device I hold.

The creature coils its body and digs its claws into the ground as it drags itself toward us, its milky yellow eyes glaring at nothing while it homes in on its prey. Desperately, I stab the second button.

Nothing happens.

“It’s not working. It’s not working!”

“It has to.” Rachel reaches over and slams her fist on the top two buttons at the same time. The beast rears back, swings its head to the left, and strafes the line of Rowansmark soldiers with fire.