Thoughts paralyzed, Nyssa hung as a ragdoll.
"You're embarrassing yourself," Gail—or who she had thought was Gail—said as he slowed to walk by North.
"Where is Gail?" Nyssa asked the Infi.
Because as of that moment, Infi was all he was to her.
"Dead," he said simply.
Her heart shouldn't have broke, but it sat in pieces in her chest.
Although she wasn't entirely convinced he was telling the truth.
"Where did you come from? Do they know?" she asked, referring to North and Antha.
The Infi turned, and she watched as his face shifted from Gail's handsomeness to the face of the companion she'd been told they'd sent back to the forest.
He'd been with them all along. And Gail had thought him a friend.
He shifted again, and Nyssa recognized the face as one of the men from the Gathering—a guard from the Bryn.
Her stomach sank.
Dorian.
Nyssa nearly hurled herself off North's shoulder. "Youbastard!"
Horses bucked and stalled. She could feel the ash on her fingertips. The Infi shifted back to the form of Gail, and he gave North an upwards nod. Nyssa didn't know what it meant. All she wanted to know right then was how many people in her life had been replaced by Infi shifters. She felt North moving as though he were retrieving something from his bag, but she couldn't focus.
"How many?!How many towns have you taken? How—“
North handed something to Gail. In a flash, a cloth threw over her mouth, and the smell of a potent opiate made her eyes heavy. She fought against it: legs kicking, bound arms beating on North, but it was no use.
Darkness surrounded her.
There was wood beneath her body. Echoes of voices surrounded her. Her head ached, and she reached for her temple to steady herself. The smell of manure and sand filled her nose. She groaned despite herself as she pushed to her knees.
Iron sheathed. Cups clanked together. A man laughed.
Her eyes snapped open, and she realized where she was.
In a grand tent on Man's beach.
It was only the one guard that had seen her move. An arm grabbed her and hauled her up to her feet. Nyssa wavered as she blinked into reality.
The Infi disguised as Gail was smirking at her.
The knowledge of where she was put a stop to her movements. Guards lined the tapestry-covered walls of the decorated tent. Plush chairs were scattered about the room. Ornate rugs covered the makeshift wooden floor.
She noted the men Infi-Gail spoke with. The one, whom she assumed was the Noble, was a middle-aged man. He had very much taken care of himself throughout the years. He continued to have a stern build, not as tall as Infi-Gail, but tall nonetheless. His hair, a mix of salt and pepper, swept back high off his forehead. His beard mirrored the color of his hair. And when the man turned, Nyssa noted the dark blue of his wide eyes. The jacket he wore looked like a thick material, high on the collar and scarlet in color. The shoulders were adorned with buttons.
"Well," the man said, his gaze dancing over her, "You were right, Fairwind. She is something."
"Something worth my place in your court, Noble Bechman," Infi-Gail said, and the Noble raised his glass to him.
Nyssa settled into her spot.
But she didn't miss the subtle wave of the Noble's fingers in the direction of the guard behind her.
