“If you escaped with me, they couldn’t punish you.”

“And if I escaped with you, I couldn’t get the Gilead.”

“Chrissy will fix things.”

He shook his head. “Sorry. I’m placing my bets on the wizard.” 136/356

I stomped my foot in frustration. “You’re trapping me in here?”

“No, you did that with your wish. I’m trying to get us home. If you want to escape, do it sometime when I’m not guarding you.” Hudson moved away from the window. “I’d better go so Rumpelstiltskin can come.”

Hudson’s casual tone irked me even more. “Don’t say his name.”

“What?”

In a voice so low it was barely more than a hiss, I said, “If he knows that I know his name, he won’t ask me for it in a year, will he?

That’s how I save my baby.”

“The baby you’re refusing to have?”

“Yes.”

“If things go well, neither of us will be here in a year, but fine, my lips are sealed. I’d better go before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named comes.” Hudson strode back to the door, opened it, then turned and cast me one last glance. My hands were still balled into fists.

“I think you’re supposed to be crying,” he said and closed the door.

I didn’t cry. I took off my shoe and threw it at the door.

• • •

I didn’t stay barefoot for long. The stone floor was cold, and it’s hard to pace with only one shoe. As I walked around the room, I thought of my family’s situation. Hudson was young, strong, and tall even by twenty-first-century standards. Here in the twelfth century where people were naturally shorter, he wasn’t having any trouble taking care of himself. But Dad and Sandra were librarians, and Nick was an underweight computer nerd.

These were not stunning recommendations for life in the Middle Ages.

137/356

I hoped my family had enough sense to stay barricaded in our house and barter off a few belongings when they needed more food.

As I paced, I sent irritated looks at the door. It was just like Hudson to end up guarding me. He probably thought my stint as the miller’s daughter was some sort of divine justice for accidentally sending him here.

I purposely stayed far away from the spindle that sat on the stool.

I had the vague fear that Chrissy might have mixed up my wish even more than I’d realized, and if I pricked my finger on the spindle, I would fall into an enchanted hundred-year sleep.

Every once in a while, I went to the window and looked out. Just as Hudson had said, another guard was posted down below.

I wouldn’t make the mistake of telling him my plans again. We weren’t working together. Even though he told me he wasn’t forcing me to marry King John, he might as well have been, since he wouldn’t let me escape. See if I helped him find his stupid plant.

I watched the guard below me for a while. Occasionally he glanced up at the window, but mostly he leaned against the castle wall. When the room was full of gold, I could drop a wad of it on his helmet. That ought to knock him out for a while. Then I could climb down a braided rope, bribe a stable-hand into giving me a horse, and sneak out of the courtyard. After I returned to my family, we could hide in the forest until Chrissy showed up to set things right. I would tell her about Hudson. She’d probably be so apologetic for Clover’s mistake that she’d grant him a wish before she sent him back home.

I considered what he might wish for and realized I might find myself poofed to some remote spot in the Arctic. I decided to tell Chrissy not to grant him any wishes.

As the day progressed, people came and went in the courtyard.

The smell of something cooking reminded me that I hadn’t eaten since 138/356

a few bites at breakfast. Long shadows encompassed most of the room, until only a pale ribbon of light streamed through the window and a chill crept across the floor.

Before it went completely dark, Hudson came in and lit the torch by the door. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” he asked.

I had wrapped the blankets around me and was sitting on the pile of straw. “I haven’t escaped. You still have job security.” He walked to the window and pulled the shutters closed. “It’s best to keep out as much of the night air as you can.” He came toward me and it was only then that I noticed he was carrying something. He held out a large chunk of dark bread, torn in half. “Prisoners don’t get dinner, but guards do. I thought you might be hungry.”

Part of me wanted to refuse. He was, after all, keeping me prisoner. But I was hungry, and there was no point in turning down his gift.

Especially when he was offering me part of his own dinner.

“Thanks.” I took the bread from him and bit into it. The bitter taste of rye filled my mouth. I didn’t like rye bread, but I was hungry enough that I ate it anyway.

While I ate, a rat came out from the straw and peered at me, perhaps waiting to see if I dropped any crumbs. I gasped and jerked backward. Hudson drew his sword and turned to see what had startled me.

When he noticed the rat, he laughed and sheathed his sword. “If you don’t like vermin, you chose the wrong place to vacation. They’re everywhere.” He took a stone from his pocket and tossed it at the rat.

The animal darted across the floor and disappeared through a crack in the wall.

I ate quicker, watching the corners of the room for more rats to appear.

139/356

Hudson took another rock from his pocket, tossed it casually up in the air, and then caught it. “Any sign of you-know-who?”

“No,” I said.

“I told you that you needed to cry. That’s part of the story.”

“It’s hard to get all teary about my impending death when I know someone will come rescue me.”

Hudson’s voice turned soft, almost lulling. “So what are your new escape plans?”

“I don’t have any.”

As soon as I said the words, I felt the sparklers flickering around my head. The room instantly became brighter, lit up by my liar’s hat.

I shot off of the straw. Some of the sparks landed on the blankets.

They were orange embers at first, then darkened into tiny black spots.

Luckily none fell on the straw. I took backward steps away from the pile, and sparks streamed around my shoulders onto the stone floor.

Hudson surveyed me calmly. “You shouldn’t lie near flammable things.”

“I don’t have any escape plans.” Which was true. I only had some thoughts on the matter. The hat apparently didn’t agree. The flames grew stronger.

Hudson squinted at my head, reading the words I knew were lit up and marching across my forehead. “Somehow I don’t think that’s the truth.”

The sparks kept dropping around my feet. I couldn’t stand here all night like a human candle. “Okay, maybe I thought about escaping. It occurred to me I could drop gold on the guard’s head and knock him out.”

The hat vanished and the room instantly darkened. In the dimmer torchlight, Hudson smiled. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll let the guard know 140/356

he needs to watch out for heavy, falling objects.” He walked to the door. “You’re the easiest prisoner I’ve had to guard yet.”

“I’m not speaking to you again. Ever.” He opened the door and stepped outside. “I think you will when you want to go home.” Then he shut the door with a final-sounding thud.

He was awful. This whole place was awful. And I was stuck here.

Even though I said I couldn’t cry, I sat back down on the straw and did just that. I cried in frustration because I was tired, hungry, worried, and apparently not smart enough to remember that when I lied, my head ignited. And now I had no way to escape.

Straw pieces stuck to the blankets and they scratched, but it was too cold not to wrap up. Between my tears and the cold air, I had the sniffles. I needed some tissues, which of course hadn’t been invented yet.