Ragnar was the murderer, the monster, the…
I needed to think, but my mind was slow. My arms felt like they were filled with bricks. My eyelids drooped, threatening to crash closed at any minute.
This was not the magical exhaustion I had experienced before…this was…
I forced my head to roll back until I caught sight of the teapot.
Thetea.
I pushed against the thick blanket of fatigue that was smothering me. My magic weakly fought the potion within me, but even my white flame was quieting.
A door clicked open. I pushed my head up just in time to see the toes of Derrick’s boots.
Then everything went dark.
Even within the void, darkness is never eternal.
Only my reprieve from the abyss was not so pleasant.
The sharp taste of iron weighed on my tongue. No, not just the taste of iron…an actual weight.
I opened my eyes but still could not see. Something heavy covered my eyes and scratched my face. I shifted my shoulders—I was lying on a floor made of steel plates. Iron chains manacled my wrists and ankles.
I tried to slow my breathing, even though I could only breathe through my nose. My mouth was sealed shut with an iron gag. I shook my head and both the chains of my gag and my chainmail blindfold rattled.
I had been captured—imprisoned for sorcery.
No time to panic, I had to figure out where I was.
Everything smelled metallic. I could not hear anything—not the rustling of wind, or the din of conversation, or even footsteps against the floor. I had never heard such loud silence before.
I must have been underground.
I writhed on the floor, the sharp rattling of my chains bouncing off the metal walls and floor. I pulled at my restraints and tested for a weakness, but I found none. My blindfold would catch all my tears. Steel mitts encased my hands so I could not scratch blood from my skin. The iron gag stopped me from biting my tongue or opening my mouth.
Every way I could think of using the moisture in my body to get a sparkle of magical tears, the Hytons had prevented it.
Though they would be useless for my escape, tears stung the backs of my eyes. The restraints were not made for me—they were Fraleigh’s. If this is how far the Hytons would go to keep a fist over Fraleigh…how did I ever think I could convince Derrick to release her?
Even with all my struggling, the Hyton dagger stayed securely against my calf. I supposed Derrick did not bother to frisk a sorceress for weapons.
My heart ached. Had Derrick really imprisoned me and chained me?
A familiar voice echoed outside, like it filtered through a thick metal door. “Relax, Jonson, the little serpent is just waking up.”
I smiled around my gag. Daigen was there, probably disguised as a mortal soldier, and he had spoken up loud enough that he wanted me to know it.
Though his presence was a strange comfort, he was not there to rescue me. Time was running out, but he had made it clear that my heart’s desire would lead me to the right answers.
I focused on what little magic responded within my body. Seeing Ilsa’s and Anders’s memories had left me exhausted, but I could not give up. The magic drew my attention to the hint of familiar sweetness that lingered on the back of my tongue beneath the tang of iron. Although Derrick had hired an assassin behind my back, I could not believe he could ever bring himself to slip a sleeping potion into anyone’s drinks.
And that tea was too good for Rosaline to have made it, in fact, it was…perfectly brewed.
General Hyton.
I screamed a curse around my gag. I had thought he was appeasing me because I was powerful, but no, he was coveting me. I had the magic of the North—I could bring down armies and defeat Death.
I had, no, Iwas,everything he had ever wanted.
