The Wand & the Sea by Claire M. Caterer

arcade.
    â€œSorry, my lord,” came a smaller, squeakier voice. “But it’s for—”
    â€œWhat matter who it’s for? He’s a prisoner, same as the rest. Do we feed him from the king’s table?”
    â€œN-no, my lord, from my own supper only.”
    â€œThat be folly, Dart. A squire needs strength. A traitor needs none. Bread is his fare. Now go.”
    The group shrank behind the arcade pillars as the knight strode into the courtyard. A chill danced across Holly’s shoulders, even where Áedán warmed her skin. The moonlight glinted off Grandor’s chain mail and his dark hair. A cruel scar quivered down his cheek; one burly hand twitched against his scabbard. Holly held her breath, willing him to walk away. A moment later his footfalls faded into the shadows.
    â€œThat was close,” Ben whispered.
    â€œThe lad looks easy enough to deal with,” Bittenbender said. “If he’s the only dungeon guard—”
    â€œHe’s just a squire,” said Everett. “And an all-right bloke at that.”
    â€œHe’s not even armed,” said Ben. “We’re not killing any kids, and for sure not Dart.”
    â€œBen’s right,” Holly whispered. “Nobody hurts him. That’s final.”
    â€œSo ye’re the general now, lass?” Bittenbender said in a low voice.
    â€œShe is the Adept,” Jade hissed. “There is no further discussion.”
    The Dvergar fell back with his men and they muttered darkly among themselves. “Are you sure we can trust them?” Ben whispered to Holly.
    â€œWe don’t have a choice,” she said.
    For the next few minutes, they crept along in silence, the only truly awful part coming when they had to cross the moonlit courtyard, as Dart had done ahead of them. The entrance to the dungeons lay on the opposite wall.
    Between them and the entrance yawned the broad, unyielding face of the keep.
    The freestanding monolith in the center of the courtyard housed the great hall, where the royal family hosted everything from banquets to executions. Somewhere underground, passages connected it to the main castle, but from here, it looked completely separate. Though it was long past the hour of feasting, Holly feared its windows were not empty.
    â€œWe must proceed as if we belong here,” said Jade. “And not all together.”
    They traveled in pairs, crossing the courtyard, then crouching in the keep’s shadow while Holly continued to the dungeon entrance on the far side.
    Holly kept an eye on the keep, but its windows were dark . People walk across the courtyard all the time, she thought. No one will think anything about it. And yet, when she and Bittenbender shuffled across the open space, her heart hammered like an overexcited drummer, losing the beat and catching up to it a measure later.
    At last she reached the doors to the dungeon. Holly shielded the lock with her body and drew out the wand. Finally , she felt it saying, its restless tremble resolving into a clean, strong hum. It twitched in her hand like an anxious horse at the starting gate. She took a deep breath.
    â€œOsclaígí!” she said in a strong, fierce whisper, touching the wand tip to the lock.
    The tumblers turned with a satisfying click, and Holly lifted the crossbar. A trickle of sweat ran down her spine as Áedán shifted position. She stepped inside. The others tiptoed across the courtyard, two at a time, and slipped in behind her.
    Jade, winding around her ankles, put a velvety paw against her shin. Holly tried to think of some of the knights’ names in case she was stopped. Grandor, of course. There were others. . . . She had met them only the once, when they had taken her before the prince. . . .
    Loverian.
    His name suddenly came to her, and then his face, which made her smile. He was young, with a strong chin and dark eyes and curling brown hair that brushed