And for the first time since I’d known her, Fydelia looked rattled. “You’re that healer who helped Melina?”

“Yep.”

“You came to rescue her again?”

“Yep.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Apparently. But I promised her mother,” I fessed up. “Melina wouldn’t cooperate with my original plan, and she had an excellent reason. We can’t leave all of you.”

“Thank the creator.”

“Are you sure you want to do that? After all, the creator is the reason you’re in here. Plus you might want to wait to see how all this ends up first.”

“Have faith.”

I laughed. We continued to discuss the details. “How will you let the other towers know when to attack?” I asked.

“During prayers.” She grinned. “We’re packed in so close that there’s lots of communication going on then. The guards can’t watch all of us at the same time. Give me your hand.”

Curious I held out my right hand. She turned it so my palm faced up. Then she traced a pattern on my palm with her finger nail. “We signal hand to hand. I can do this without looking.”

“What did it mean?”

“It’s time.”

After lights out, I lay on the hard wood of my bunk, marveling at the turn in events. If we rescued them all, that would be a big blow to Estrid. But I kept a tight grip on my emotions. Too many unknowns, and too many things had to go right, which Tohon gleefully pointed out in my dreams every night.

I’d relax later when we rendezvoused with Kerrick. Perhaps we’d celebrate with a private party—just the two of us in a cozy hollow. My body warmed at the thought. I missed him.

Cold, harsh reality intruded in the morning. Roused by the guards, we filed out, ate breakfast, visited the privy, and knelt for prayers. Neither Odd nor any of his men was among the guards. Unease swirled. I spent the day listing all the things that could go wrong—a very long list.

The next morning, I spotted one of Odd’s men with the guards. He ignored me, which meant I’d have to endure yet another day on my knees, staring at the ceiling. I searched my memories, recalling just how many locked doors we’d crossed on our way in. My gaze drifted to the levels framing the window. Remembering the monastery had resembled a wedding cake, I guessed each frame was a floor. I counted eight floors. The towers had seven levels, which fit with what I’d seen. The top of the towers didn’t reach the highest tier.

Interesting. There were also eight sets of doors on the way to freedom. That meant we were on the ground floor and in the dead center of the square building.

When we returned to our towers, I realized Fydelia had been right. After seven days on my knees, I didn’t feel quite so stiff and sore and I had healing powers. How long would it have taken my body to adjust without my magic? My opinion of these women increased.

* * *

On my eighth day of penitence, Odd signaled me during breakfast. Thank the Flea! At this point, I craved action. Any action other than staring at a window. Now I understood why some women had gone insane.

I caught Fydelia’s attention and raised my eyebrows. She kept her face neutral, but a spark flared behind her eyes. Game on.

Last time, last time, last time. I chanted the words in my mind to keep from screaming out loud. Reviewing the attack plan only lasted so long—it was imprinted in my brain at this point. I sneaked a few glances at the guards, earning a couple of whacks. Of the forty-eight inside the center area, only Odd and two of his men were on our side. That left forty-five.

I scanned for Jael, as well. She hadn’t returned since I’d last seen her, but she had to be up to something. After an eternity, the sun set. Needing my strength, I shoveled the wet paste into my mouth. At this point, even Quain’s squirrel soup would taste divine. Not that I’d tell him.

I joined the line heading to our tower with Fydelia and the ladies who had been chosen to carry out the attack. With my heart climbing up my throat, I followed the team.

The four guards of tower ten checked off penitents as the women showed them their bracelets. “...number four-three-seven. Number two-nine-one. Number six-zero-four. Number one-five-nine-five. Number— Oof!”

Fydelia and her team didn’t hesitate, striking so fast the men didn’t have time to grab their weapons. The team pounced and immobilized the men all in utter silence as I darted in and touched the napes of the guards’ necks, zapping them to ensure they’d stay knocked out for a few hours.

“Quick, drag them inside,” Fydelia ordered in a low voice. “Strip them. Joelle and Suzanne, change clothes, now.”

I raced around to the other towers, knocking out any guards that were still conscious and helped to subdue those who resisted. All the guards were locked inside the towers and stripped. Volunteers donned their uniforms.

Finding Melina in tower four, I gestured to her. “Stay close to me until I say so. Understand?”

With a gleam in her eyes, she nodded. “Thanks.”

“Save it for later.”

Odd helped at tower three. “The others?” he asked.

“So far, so good.” I zapped the man he had in a head lock. “Oh, and keep an eye out for Jael.”

“Jael’s here?”

“She was.” I explained about her visit as we headed for tower one.

Odd cursed an impressive and creative string of expletives. At tower one, the women had cornered Odd’s man. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead.