Ell was desperate. She hadn’t realized that until she was faced with either of two choices: flee and miss her chance of finding the Puppeteer ever again or gamble her life away, come what may be. In a moment of impulse, she’d chosen the later.

  Now that her head had cooled, she was even more sure of her decision.

  There were only twenty-five days remaining before Byrun’s execution, and lesser time until Quinn brought out the unholy witness to testify against the general. With a plot deviation of over twenty percent, even that information was now not too reliable.

  Those involved in the original massacre had to be unveiled sooner than later. Quinn, Sonia, and whoever the Queen had hinted at, starting with this Puppeteer.

  Dirt slid and crumbled out of the dimly glowing shield. It’s blue light illuminating the stomach of the beast that had swallowed her along with the piece of earth her shield was anchored to.

  Ell stumbled slightly, soft but dry texture displacing the previously solid grounds. She was standing on the leech’s flesh. The entrance through which she had been eaten was faintly visible gathering dirt as the beast moved within the earth, making its way bite by bite.

  Just when the dirt threatened to spill into the cavity Ell occupied, a fleshy flap pivoted to the left and closed up the narrower portion of the opening. It was only a few seconds before it twisted out of vision, leaving behind an empty pit where dirt was shoveled into yet again.

  No wonder the Puppeteer had no qualms about getting swallowed.

  At the other end of the beast’s belly were smooth walls dented with a circle of wrinkles. Ell hoped that was not how she was supposed to exit.

  Settling into a cross-legged position, Ell turned the shield’s ring clockwise, anchoring the shield to the center of whatever organ she was in as its hue shifted to a soft orange. She slows her breathing, wary of the air thinning. The moment she felt the slightest threat to her wellbeing, she would have this creature spit her out.

  A few minutes pass, air abundant and surprisingly… fresh. Adjusting to the irregular jolts she experienced whenever the leech met an obstacle and maneuvered around it, Ell rested her hands on the trembling belly, craning her neck to spot an entrance for air.

  Instead of holes, or some oxygen producing green creatures, she spots fungi. Black thin elongated mushroom that blended to its surroundings as if it were absent.

  It was a viable hypothesis, and Ell wasn’t too interested in the semantics of in-creature breathing, so she accepted the theoretical conjuncture with little reluctance. The current priority was to remain composed.

  With a deep breath, Ell closed her eyes.

  Over half an hour had passed when the leech stopped moving.

  The encirclement of wrinkles expanded, stretched taut to reveal the brightly lit ground beyond. Ell did not move. Being anchored within a shield in the beast was the best scenario she could come up with to heighten her chances of a successful escape.

  The people on the other side seemed to realize that as well, filing into the cavity with belted tunics and long trousers, bows and arrows secured to their backs. The three before her had to have shot Selin. Ell memorized their faces.

  “Our Princess is finally here!” A cheerful voice echoed in the chamber. The three archers parted, revealing the brunet she’d seen in the review.

  Ell smiled disdainfully. “Nice to meet you too, Puppeteer.”

  The Puppeteer’s toothy grin freezes. He glances at the archers and then at the empty exit behind him. “Who?”

  “You’re the one controlling the beasts,” replied Ell with a quirk of her eyebrow.

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  The comment had to have stung, the Puppeteer’s face scrunching up in disgust. “First of all, those weaklings can barely control one being at a time. Secondly, how much blood do you think I have?”

  Ell blinked at the not-Puppeteer. What did blood have to do with Puppeteering?

  Except it did. Very much so.

  The System operated by its own rules, but Ell had assumed that Puppeteering was a simple: you can see the target, you can control the target. Ilai’s memories now proved otherwise.

  To control a creature, a Puppeteer had to offer a sample of his blood and mix it with an equivalent amount of blood from the being they wanted to control. The more blood that was used, the longer the Puppeteer had control over their targets.

  Ell looked up at the brunet again. In her haste, she’d forgotten that a simple Mark check could confirm his Blessing.

  Yes—not a Puppeteer.

  Instead of a cross surrounded by five encircling dots, an inverted water drop was etched into his forehead. The Mark was unfamiliar to Ilai, Ell failing to pinpoint it in her memories.

  Snap.

  The brunet had mimicked her posture at some point, sitting in front of her. His hand hung in front of her, thumb and forefinger drawn together from the earlier snap.

  When her eyes were back on him, he pushed his palm against his cheek, elbow pressed against his knee as he looked at her. “You don’t have to know what or who I am. It’s enough that I know you.” His eyes almost disappeared into thin crescents as his lips curled deep into his cheeks. “You’re worth so much.”

  Ell tilted her head, surprised. “Money? Is that what you’re after?”

  The man straightened, staring at her solemnly. “Of course.” His demeanor shifted again, leaning back on his hands languidly. “Nothing better than something shiny.”

  That worked perfectly. Ell nodded in understanding. “Name your price.”

  The brunet shifted his head, eyes narrowed as he looked at her sideways. “So cooperative? What’s the catch?”

  “No catch, just a price.”

  “And what could be traded for gold?” He pulled the red hairpin from his hair, spinning it between his fingers. Wavy brown strands fell to his shoulders.

  Ell smiled. “Information.”

  His gaze followed the hairpins movement. “I don’t know many things.”

  “Sonia.” His fingers paused, and he looked up. Ell continued, “Why were you there when she was taken away?”

  The hairpin was spinning again. “Ask something else.”

  “Why did you attack her?”

  “You’re just rephrasing your question. Next.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “Next.”

  “You’re not cooperating.” Ell rubbed a thumb over her forefinger.

  The man chuckled. “I already told you. I don’t know many things.”

  “I just think you don’t want to tell me.”

  The man puckered his lips, taunting. “Why would I do that for our lovely princess?”

  “Wren,” an archer called out the man’s name, lips downturned in a grimace. “We need to move.”

  “Always spoiling the mood,” Wren complained as he sent the man a mock glare. He turned to Ell. “He’s right though, we don’t have time. Time we don’t have. Let’s go!”

  The beast’s exit shrunk into a shriveled dimple once again as the giant leech stirred.

  “Where are we going?” Ell asked as she tilted back, the creature evidently moving downwards at a slant.

  Wren flashed a perfect set of teeth. “Somewhere fun.”

  Ell stared at him for a while. She nodded. “Okay.”

  For the rest of the trip, Ell studied Wren closely. The unflattering simple attire. The incessantly moving hairpin. The obnoxious attitude. The Favorability.

  Yes, somehow, Ilai had met this man and his humble crew of a man and two women before. All with unflattering fifty-fives.

  The locks. The strange numbers that did not match the original plot but made perfect sense in hindsight. The undocumented details of how Ilai had met any of these strangers. Ell could not make sense out of any of it.

  The beast made a sharp turn. Wren moved ever slightly as Ell blinked.

  She smiled, and the beast halted. “It looks like we arrived.”

  The unpleasant looking wrinkle was stretched open again, peering into a tunnel. The archers fell.

  Selin and Varoth entered, each more displeased than the other. “Your Highness,” Varoth began, “this was stupid.”

  The guard was less interested in talking. She grabbed Wren by the throat and snapped a suppressant coil on his neck. Canines protruded as she snarled, claws digging into flesh.

  Ell deactivated her shield and looked away. Wren, who had been choking on his silence while controlled by the Puppeteer, burst into a furious string of profanities, concluding it with a vicious glare at the Princess. “What the fuck even are you?”

  The System’s notification rung in her head.

  [Puppeteer Deactivated]