“I always thoughtso. I liked to paint mine with unique expressions. Some laughed while others held mysterious smiles. Some were serious and others thoughtful. It depended on their occupation or station in life as to how I tried to portray them.”
“That makes sense. They should’ve hired you to improve on the portraits in the castle. I was half tempted to find a marker pen and do my own alterations.”
“A crime,” he barked. “One that would land you in the dungeon.”
She fell silent at that. Her single transgression had been to meet Leo and start falling for him, to agree to marry him. She hoped he was okay. His friends had watched what went down and had been moving to help Leo once the soldiers left.
“Has anyone ever escaped from the dungeon?”
“No,” Martinos said without hesitation.
“There’s always a first time.” Gwenyth explored her prison. The room was the size of a bathroom. Enough room to lie down and attempt to sleep. Enough room to pace. Enough room to exercise—if she followed Martinos’s advice. The walls consisted of solid rock. Her fingers ran over the rough, damp surface. A few stones held cracks, but not enough to allow a prisoner to escape. She scuffed her right foot and tripped over something on the ground. Not in time to catch herself, she shot off-balance, striking her knees on the rough cobbles. Gwenyth grunted, and tears shrouded her vision.
“You all right?”
“Tripped over the bed. You didn’t think to tell me it was there?”
Martinos barked out another of his emotionless laughs. “Not your keeper.”
She bit back another retort and pushed herself to her feet. Wetness dribbled down her leg. Blood, she assumed. She could feel it beneath her trews. Probably lucky she had a layer of fabric between her skin and the hard floor. She might have injured herself worse. As it was, she’d need to take care not to get an infection while in this hellhole.
“Anything else in here, I shouldn’t trip over?” She’d thought her eyes had adjusted enough to see. Obviously not.
“Chamber pot. You’ll want to keep that intact.” Amusement sounded in his rough voice.
Gwenyth pulled a face. “Do the soldiers empty them?”
“Nope. There’s a drain somewhere in your cell. Mine is underneath the bed.”
Her eyes rolled. “This keeps getting better.”
It was time for escape plan A. If that failed, she’d move on to plan B because the thought of remaining in this damp, cold cage was inconceivable.
12 – Trouble. Big, Big Trouble
Leo came to slowly, his eyes flickering at the bright light shining in his face. He groaned, his mouth dry as he tried to recall how he came to be in this position.
“He’s awake,” someone said.
Leo didn’t recognize the dragon’s voice.
“Leo.”
Another voice hedidrecognize.
“Jakab?” Leo pushed upright, and instead of the usual fluidity of his muscles, each part of his upper body groaned a sullen protest. He rubbed the back of his head, his fingers locating a lump. “What happened?”
“Your bloody family happened,” Jakab snarled, his usually calm friend agitated and out of sorts.
Leo stiffened. “Where is Gwenyth?”
“They took her,” the stranger said. He circled to a position where Leo could see him without straining his neck.
A younger dragon, and one he hadn’t met before. One of Jakab’s students.
“Tell me what happened,” Leo said, his mind fuzzy.
“They shot you with a dart. Drugged you.”
