Page 86 of The Dungeon Book

“There won’t be any need for that.” But they left the manacles on Bait’s legs, and bound the other end to a stout metal ring.

“Cold iron, that,” snarled the adventurer in Bait’s face. “Understand?”

She licked it, much to the man’s consternation.

“I’ll be just outside,” he said to Nala. “If it gives you any trouble, call and we’ll deal with it.”

“Out!”

The door closed behind the adventurers. Bait watched Nala closely, like a mongoose watches a serpent, searching for signs of trickery. The tower room was once again much as it had been three years earlier, when Nala and the first RAS expedition had come to the border keep. Again, there were maps of the Dungeon tacked up on the wall, books like the aftermath of a paper hurricane, strange potions and philtres in padded cases, relics in a golden muddle of reliquaries. Only the butcher’s slab was different – now, it was scrubbed clean, the surface pristine white. It reminded Bait of the counters in the kitchen below when she was done with Mistress Clove’s punishments.

“Are you hurt?” asked Nala. “Hungry? Thirsty?” She picked up a pitcher of a water.

The mongoose stare didn’t waver.

Bait’s belongings were in another sack. Nala plucked the Dungeon Book from a pile. “I thought I’d lost this? Did you take it?” She leafed through it, glimpsing at one remove secret chambers beyond imagining. A genuine smile blossomed. “Oh! Bait, these are marvellous.”

“It’s my book,” said Bait.

Reluctantly, Nala closed the Dungeon Book and handed it back to the child. “Of course. It’s yours. I’d love to study it someday, if you’d let me.”

Bait hugged the book tight.

“I did not want it to happen this way. I wanted to come back here on my own and find you, but . . . events overtook me.” Nala took a breath. Her fingers knitted and unknitted, as if she did not know what to do with them. Bait did not understand surface folk, but Nala reminded her of a rabbit caught in a snare, twisting this way and that, dragging the wire tighter. “What should I call you?”

“Still Bait.”

“Not Ealdufrida, ever – I remember that. But you had another name, when you were young. I don’t know if—”

“Aldebara,” interrupted Bait. “I know. I was the Princess Aldebara. Orphir made a changeling of her.”

“No. Well, yes, There was a changeling, but Orphir didn’t make it. Another wizard did.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“That is what happened. That’s what the Chancellor told me.” A flicker of emotion – fear? Doubt? Anger? “The changeling was rescued by mistake. She was brought back to the king, presented to him as his trueborn daughter. Even the Chancellor didn’t suspect Cornelius’ deception for many years – and now it’s done, isn’t it? There’s no fixing the mistake. She is the Princess Aldebara now, and you’re Bait.”

“She doesn’t know what she is?”

Nala nodded. “She grew up as the princess. It was only when she fell ill that we realised an error had been made. If I’d seen the truth when I first came here – oh, so much of this is my fault. All I can do is help repair the damage.” She took a deep breath. “You want to be Bait, don’t you?”

Bait shrugged.

“Princess Aldebara . . . the other . . . was raised to rule. Without her, there’ll be chaos. More chaos. The kingdom will fall.”

Bait shrugged.

“I know you don’t understand, but for the good of the realm you have to—”

“I understand.”

“Then—”

“I don’t care. You attacked the Dungeon. You hurt my friends. You broke the Rules.”

“The princess is sick, Bait. She’s dying. Changelings aren’t meant to last this long. But we can save her. You can save her. We just need a little of you to fortify her. A few drops of blood, that’s all. Blood and magic, and the Chancellor can restore her.”

“I don’t care.”