Grim Lovelies (Grim Lovelies 1)

She squeaked a gasp of surprise.

Beau made a face as he choked down the spider. He drew in a breath and began to whisper; though he was trying to be quiet, quiet for Beau was like a shout for her. Too loud, she thought. Rennar will hear.

“No,” she spat out. “No, that’s my answer. I’ll never agree to be yours.”

“Dorma, dorma . . .” Beau whispered behind them.

Too late, Prince Rennar heard the whisper. His midnight eyes flashed. A counter-spell was already o

n his lips, and in a fraction of a breath he would have silenced Beau, but Beau finished his first. Prince Rennar stumbled as though he’d been hit over the head. Beau’s whisper had been murmured and unclear, as though he’d spoken with rocks in his mouth. Rennar doubled over and fell on all fours. He was fighting to keep his head up, his eyes open.

He lost the battle to stay conscious and collapsed to the floor.

Anouk stared, unable to believe what she’d seen. “Beau, you did magic!”

“Well, poorly.”

Anouk dug through Rennar’s pockets for the key and unlocked the door to Beau’s cage. As soon as Beau was free, she threw her arms around him. He felt alive. Warm. Almost too warm, as though some sickness was inside him. Something inside her burned in response—?maybe not a sickness after all. Maybe their true natures.

“We can’t trust the Royals,” he said. “But Rennar had a point. If we leave, we’ll be running away from the only magic handlers who can cast the beastie spell.”

The words of the Selentium Vox conjured themselves behind her teeth, and again, she longed to gather the right ingredients, to try.

She grabbed his shirt collar. “I’d rather have one last night as ourselves than a lifetime in cages. Let’s get out of here.”

She grabbed her broom, and they ran through the labyrinth of Rennar’s apartments. His bedroom. A bath with a golden tub. A personal library, the walls lined with books, real books, unmagical stories from the Pretty World. A jacket flung over a chair. A volume with a teaspoon used as a bookmark. Rumpled sheets on the unmade bed told her two things: Rennar didn’t let maids into his private chambers (she’d guessed this, given the spider), and his sleep was too troubled for dreams.

They reached an empty antechamber with doors on all sides. Anouk threw open a random door—?a linen closet. The next—?an exterior garden. Beau started from the opposite side. He opened a door and found a rickety staircase plunging downward.

“Here!” Anouk called. At last, she’d found a sight she recognized: the artifact hallway. They ran into it and Anouk stopped short at the row of empty benches outside the spell-library doors. “Viggo’s supposed to be here.”

The sound of approaching footsteps came from down the hall.

“Merde,” Beau cursed. “The other Royals are coming.”

It was too late to run for the elevator, so Anouk and Beau started to hustle the other way but stopped when a voice called out: “Wait! It’s us!”

They turned as Cricket and Hunter Black came around the corner with Viggo hobbling between them.

The five of them clasped hands, delighted at their small reunion, but then they heard more footsteps. The smile fell off Cricket’s face.

“About two dozen duchesses are right behind us,” she said.

“Let’s not make it easy for them.” Anouk raised the broom. She remembered how, in the salon, Hunter Black had used the broken shards of the teapot to deflect Countess Quine’s magic. And there were a lot of glass cases. She swung the broom against the nearest case.

“Smashy!” Cricket said. “I love it!”

She leaned hard on a case until it toppled over. Anouk slammed the broomstick into another case and then started on another as a fleet of Royals rounded the corner.

“Right,” Beau said. “Time to go, cabbage!”

Anouk pulled the beastie spell from the broomstick’s handle, put it in her pocket, and then tossed the broom aside. They ran. Anouk could hear the shushing sounds of whispers behind them, but she didn’t dare glance back. The clinking of broken glass meant the duchesses were close. They charged through the maze of hallways. Rain pelted the windows. Crows flapped their wings just beyond the glass, cawing and screeching.

“Which way?” Anouk cried.

Cricket held up her forearm as they ran, consulting the map, trying to figure out the calculations based on the shifting rooms. “Left. No, right!”

They skittered around a corner, dragging Viggo with them as fast as they could.