“Saige,” she whispers timidly. “And I came to return the favor.”
Yri is shaking his head, lost in his own horrors from that time and wrestling his way back to us. I grab his arm and smack it as hard as I can, knowing the pain will help ground him in the present and not having anything to stab him with.
“What do you mean? How?” Soren demands, not trusting her, assuming it’s a trap.
But at this point, anything is better than sitting in this cell another day as we wait for our turn at the gallows. Even if it is a trap, at least we’ll end this here and now, go out fighting. I can die saying I at least tried instead of rolling over and accepting defeat.
She looks both ways before slipping her arm between the bars, holding out her palm. I hold out my hand and she drops a key in it, that I wrap my hand around instantly.
“In twenty minutes, open the door, follow the hall to the right, and take the first hallway on your left. You’ll have two and a half minutes to get there,” she rattles off quickly, voice raspy. “There’s a series of solid metal doors and you need the eighth one on your left. She’ll be unconscious, but when she wakes up again, she’ll have access to her abilities.”
She takes a deep breath, getting jittery the more time passes. Her finger taps rhythmically on her thigh, keeping constant time despite her nerves and never missing a beat.
“Don’t freak out when you see her, don’t let them see a single reaction. You’re going to think she’s dead; that’s the point. Continue down that same hall until you get to the main room, wait thirty seconds, then take the path carved into the wall that leads above us,” she finishes, even the blood drained from her lips now.
“What about you?” Yri whispers while I struggle to memorize her instructions without screwing them up.
Her eyes close for a brief moment. “If they figure out how to use her blood, it’s over for all of us. If they can find a way for us to carry a viable dragon embryo, they’ll breed us until we die. It’s already bad enough, but they space it out now at least. I can survive this, but not having child after child ripped from my arms while I’m chained down like an animal.”
I don’t have anything left to throw up, but that doesn’t mean the urge isn’t there.
“Come with us.”
I know what her answer will be already, see the resignation in her eyes. “I can’t, not if you want the door unguarded for your escape.”
Yri has tears streaking down his cheeks that I do him the courtesy of pretending not to see. I know his mind has to be a chaotic mess; being faced with the fate his sister would have had if she hadn’t taken matters into her own hands, of what state we’re going to find Ezra in. And of this human, that’s better than all of us, willing to suffer to give us all a chance. The dragons stole her life, yet still, here she is; helping us.
I jerk my head in a sharp nod, hoping she can see how grateful I am. “We’ll figure out a way to come back for you. I can’t promise it will be soon, but we’ll find a way.”
She gives me a sad smile, resigned. “Hope is more dangerous than escape, dragon, so you can keep that for your own. Twelve minutes.”
Then she turns to quickly walk away without a backward glance, and I start tapping on my thigh, mimicking her. In a place without the sun or clocks, she had to adapt. Tracking the movements of the guards, of everything; I can only imagine how she holds onto all of those numbers while carrying on a conversation, keeps it all straight.
Soren sees what I’m doing and shuts up Yri before he can speak. Every sixty taps, I put up a finger on my left hand, then back down again. When I lift another solitary finger, Yri moves to the door, reaching his arm through the bars and getting ready. When I raise the second, he shoves it open and we race out, seeing the hallway abandoned. I start the timer again, counting down how long we have to make it. I can’t lose track, can’t fuck this up. How the Fates were even able to intervene enough to give us this chance, I’ll never know. If we make it through this, I’ll never question them again, will build them a damn alter if they want.
Ten seconds left.
I let Soren and Yri count the doors, because I can only keep track of so many numbers at once. Yri grabs my arm when I almost pass it, while Soren turns the handle, pushing open the steel door as I try to prepare myself for the picture Saige painted in my mind.
But when the door opens, it’s clear no amount of mental preparation could have hardened my heart against this. There’s a guard in the room, loosening the metal shackles binding her wrists to the chair. Her head is slumped to the side, and she looks pale, so goddamn pale. Even her lips are the faintest pink, chapped, and her chest isn’t moving.
I’m glad I purged my system when I first saw Saige, let her rip those wounds open, because otherwise there would be no way I could have schooled my reaction before the guard notices us. I keep my face a blank mask despite the flashbacks threatening to cripple me, despite seeing the woman I love appear as nothing more than a corpse in front of me.
Tap, tap, tap.
“First in the lineup, yeah?” he asks, the words muddled from the ringing in my ears.
Soren saves us from giving away our shock and horror. “Need to start somewhere.”
He wipes off his hands and sneers down at her, gesturing with one hand. “Better you than me; already had two showers today. Hard to get the stink off you from the pit. Bitch is all yours.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a male dragon look at a female the way this pathetic excuse of a man is at Ezra. He looks at her as if she’s lower than the dirt on his shoes, a burden. Something to be used and discarded, nothing more.
Tap, tap, tap.
Yri moves forward and hoists her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, one hand on her thigh to keep her in place and walks out of the room without a single word.
“That one doesn’t say much, does he?” the stranger says, closing the lid on an insulated cooler on the counter behind the chair.
