Oh. Isahn followed the mystery woman from the cell, passing said guard in the corridor, dead, as promised. A stocky, brown-skinned guard with black hair slumped against the wall. A river of red slicked from his neck to pool around his still body. The tang of fresh blood bit into Isahn’s nostrils and he grimaced.
When they emerged from the cellar, he wasn’t surprised to find it was night. The estate, or wherever he was, stood silent and all but devoid of life, as evidenced by the four other dead guards they passed on their way out. They didn’t make a fucking peep.
Remain calm, control emotions, formulate a plan.
Relief gathered in his chest with each step he took away from the prison. Whoever this mysterious woman was, she must’ve been sent by the fates themselves. The night was hot and dry, not spring weather. Where the fuck was he? And how long had he been away from home?
“Areyouanassassinor something?” Isahn’s voice was barely a whisper as they clambered over scraggly grasses and dodged another gnarled olive tree,making their way from the mansion-prison without using the far-too-visible main drive.
She chuckled dryly. “Or something.”
Olive trees. Olives. Something clicked in Isahn’s muddled brain. “Are we in fucking Domos?”
“Yes. Did you not know?”
He shook his head, even though she wasn’t looking.
“Those fuckers. It was the jailors, I think. Must’ve mindmolded you to clear your memories. Why would they do that?”
“Fucking mindmages,” he cursed. The sentiment felt oddly familiar, like he’d thought it before. The woman was probably right; the guards had changed his memories.Arseholes. Right when he was on Peros’s tail.Fuck.
“You must be someone important,” the brunette mused. “They’d kill you otherwise. They only clear the memories of the important ones.”
A lake lay up ahead, and dim moonlight reflected off the water. To his right, a short distance away, a town stood cloaked by night. The distant streets were lit by a few lamps here and there, specks of light against shadow.
“I’m Lord Yaranbur, Earl of Midlake. From Selwas.”
“Ah, a foreign noble. That explains it. You only told me your first name before.”
“We’ve met?”
“Damn, they got you good.” She paused by yet another olive tree, sticking out her hand in greeting. “My name’s Hill, Mel Hill. Nice to meet you again.” The woman turned and continued walking. “Yes, we’ve met. Shared a cell together for three weeks, in fact.”
“What?” He jogged to catch up. “Really?”
“Absolutely. You’re lucky we talked so much, because I know what you overheard that got your memory wiped.” She jumpedtopics without giving him the chance to respond. “We’re going into town there. That’s Nowosmont. Don’t worry, I’ve got connections, we’ll be safe. Going to pick up some papers and get us out of here.”
“Out of Domos?” He rubbed his throbbing temples.
“Exactly. You need to get back to Selwas, and I need a change of pace.”
“You won’t be able to get into Selwas if you’re Domossan. I had to sneak into Gramenia in the first place, and I’m a bloody earl.”
“Papers, my friend. Domos will let usGramenianspass the border, and Selwas won’t turn us away either, not for a short visit.”
“Ah, I see.” The plan was good enough for him. At least he wasn’t shackled to the wall of a dingy prison cell.
He could’ve picked the lock with his magic, sure. But where would that have gotten him except stranded in a strange land? Even being stuck in the Newand Principality, where hethoughthe was, would’ve been bad enough without any coin. This was worse. He still had his signet ring, which could help prove his identity if needed. Those fucking guards must not have known what they were looking at. But ring or not, there was no way Isahn would be able to get from northern-fucking-Domos to Selwas without additional support—and that support had arrived in the form of a not totally trustworthy kind-of-friend, with a sort-of-plan.
“What’sthislakecalled?”
“Dlongos,” Hill replied.
“Does that mean ‘long’ or something?”
“Sure does.”
Isahn’s world tilted for the briefest of moments as he stared down at the turquoise water far below. The bridge was impressively high, but he didn’t typically respond to heights in such a way.
