"Grandly then," Dorian decided.
"I love when you two get serious," Reverie said eagerly as she looked between them. Dorian started to frown, but Reverie sat her plate down and edged forward. "What do we tell them is our business?" she asked.
"Assuming they'll hear us coming and shift, we go to the one they've chosen to represent their Elder," Dorian said. "Lady Morgin. Pretend we are there on Hagen's behalf to retrieve supplies."
"What about the Scrolls Hagen thinks they have?" Corbin asked.
Dorian looked to Reverie. "Can you go in hidden? Search their temple."
Reverie nodded. "What do they look like?"
"Not entirely sure," Dorian admitted. "But I know they'll be of the old language. You'll see the mark of the Honest on them."
"What about the fire?" Reverie asked. "Are you still planning on burning the entire town?"
Dorian stared at the blackened mark on the wall and the skeleton leaning against the other. "I have no idea," he admitted. "It may be a last minute call depending on what we find. We have to get those Scrolls first."
A stretch of determination rose on Reverie's face. "I'll find them," she promised. "But I'll need time."
"Luckily, I like to talk," Dorian muttered.
Corbin and Reverie's brows lifted in agreement, and Dorian looked between them. "No need to disagree all at once," he muttered. He sat his own plate down then and stood, brushing off his pants. "We need to leave in an hour. Make sure you have everything, but leave one set of clothes here in case we have to run."
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
FACE BEATEN, EYES swollen, Nyssa could hardly see the light in the room around her.
With a cuff around her wrist, she realized she was hanging limp from a post, her good arm was shackled above her head, and her knees were crumpled in a heap beneath her.
Nyssa had been caught on her way back in from seeing Nadir.
The wife had been waiting for her when Nyssa pushed back through the loose floorboard. She'd barely had a moment to see her in the dark before a rope had been thrown around her neck, and she was dragged down the hall.
Kicking and screaming, but it was no use. She'd been taken to the same room she’d just woken in and beaten while the wife watched over her. Water had soaked over her mouth and nose again as the wife accosted her for information.
Nyssa couldn't move.
The only good thing she could think of was that she would not be taken to the Prince until she was healed.
"The little bitch wakes," came Shae’s voice.
The door whipped back.
“What in the name of the King have you done, Shae?" Bechmen demanded.
"She escaped last night to see the trader," Shae said. "The Porter alerted me of it. Perhaps you should give him an extra rationing and new maid tonight."
Nyssa strained to open her eyes, strained to breathe. All the pain rushed into one total body agony, and she hardly felt the Noble's fingers on her chin. Nyssa couldn't resist as he lifted her face to observe the bruises and swells on her features.
"Take her down," he told someone.
Shae stepped forward. "But—“
"I said take her down," he almost shouted. "She will not be running away in the state you have put her in. She is beaten to the point I hardly recognize her. This was not what you should have done."
The shackle on her wrist was undone, and she dropped flat to the floor on her broken arm. But she couldn't even wince at the pain.
"I saw no other option," Shae argued.
