Shouts and grunts fill the air, as if there’s a battle outside my cell.
“I’ve got him,” shouts a deep male voice. “Grab his keys.”
Metal jangles against metal. The door opens and Treacher appears. My suspicions rise. What’s his game, now? Some new tactic to trick me.
Carrying the ring of keys, he strides across the room and then reaches toward the shackle around my ankle.
I pull back my leg.
“What are you doing, man?” he asks. “We don’t have much time.”
He reaches for the shackle again, and I tuck my ankle fully under me. For all I know, he plans to lead me to my execution. At least down here I’m alive.
“Stop messing around,” Treacher says. “The others are creating a diversion, but more guards will come. We’ve got to move if we’re going to get you out of here.”
I cock my head to the side. “What others?” My first words in five moon cycles scrape their way up my throat.
A grunt and a thud come from the hallway. Treacher turns to look over his shoulder and then back to me. “The others,” he says impatiently as if I should know. “Zogar, Surath, Ersot, Rosomon.”
“Don’t fucking lie!” My throat screams in pain, but Treacher has revealed his deceit.
He widens his stance and squats, a modicum of understanding in his otherwise irritated expression. “I know that the dragonsare shifters. I’ve been across the veil.” His expression twitches. “I know that Ersot’s a woman.”
He leans closer. “Rosomon and Zogar—her husband, apparently—sent me to get you. We don’t have much time.”
I sit, mouth agape, unable to respond and searching for proof that he’s lying.
Xendus, in human form, appears at the doorway. “What’s taking so long? Should I search the other guards for more keys?”
Xendus?He’s not only in human form, but also with Treacher? I stretch my shackled ankle out from under me. This must be a dream, a hallucination caused by starvation. And, if it is a dream, there’s little risk in letting Treacher free my bindings.
The third key he tries releases the shackle, and I wince as the metal shifts against my raw skin. I start to rise, and Treacher helps pull me up.
Even though I’ve been exercising, my body feels weak and shaky as I take my first steps. Treacher straps his arm around me, and we move more quickly.
Xendus goes ahead, and we step over three guards on the stone floor—unconscious or dead. Right now, I don’t care which. Their uniforms all sport the insignias of Khotor and the symbol of Othrix—the combination further evidence of what’s happened. The klericks are in charge. The klericks and Khotor.
Tynan wasn’t in the group Treacher gave of those helping. I have so many questions.
At least Rosomon and Zogar have returned from the Darkness. So much time has passed since I told her I loved her, and the sight of her face will be the only balm my recovery requires.
My legs feel like jelly, but Treacher helps me climb the long circular staircase that leads above ground. Xendus opens the door. Another guard is waiting, but the massive dragon-shifter easily disarms him, then slams the butt of the man’s sword against the back of his neck. The guard crumples to the ground.
Again, I don’t care if he’s dead. I have no time for such concerns.
As we step into the courtyard, my eyes close against the brightness, but Treacher keeps moving me forward. At this point I have no choice but blind trust. Literally blind at the moment.
When I can squint open my eyes, Surath and Ersot are standing before me, the former in her human form and Ersot as a dragon. I would not recognize him otherwise.
“Didn’t you say that Ersot had shifted?” I ask Treacher softly, still unsure if this is a dream.
“Yes,” Treacher says. “And she’s a woman.” He shakes his head, his expression revealing that he can barely believe it himself.
“Where’s Rosomon?” Now my eyes can fully open, I scan around.
“I’ll take you to her,” Surath says.
The guards have scattered, but several riders stride toward us, clear questions in their eyes.
