Page 153 of Deadly Maiden

It’s for the best, according to Paloma, but even so, I worry. Something could go wrong.

The soldiers march to us and do their duty, a little roughly, but without excessive fuss.

Having manacles, steel ones, locked onto my wrists and watching Rorsyd be treated similarly, I do wonder if we have delivered ourselves to the wrong person.

Can we trust Paloma, let alone Madlin-Asher?

The prison is further south, a building high above the harbor, and it’s dark and filthy, as one would expect of King Madlin’s prison.

We are led inside the foreboding walls and down three flights of stairs to a corridor.

Men and women are yelling somewhere further along this corridor lined on both sides with cells. After the door to our cell is slammed and locked, our manacles are removed when we put our hands to the bars.

“Are we going to be okay, do you think? Do you trust her? Or him.” Rorsyd draws me to the bunk bed and dusts off some grit before seating me next to him. The bunk groans in protest at his weight.

“I think so?” But I am not certain.

“There’s no iron. Our magik is fine.” He shrugs. “I feel stronger than ever. You have healed me properly, and so…”

“What?”

“If they don’t let us go, I will shift down here. I don’t think they’ll like what happens when a dragon appears in the middle of this place.Boom.” With his hands, he mimes an explosion. I imagine that and am unconvinced he would prevail against a few tons of prison wall. “But right now, I’m going to sleep. And so are you.”

He tosses the two thin mattresses on the floor and lies down with me tucked into the curve of his body.

“Huh.” I nuzzle him, yawning as he pats my hair. “I doubt I will be able to.”

My doubts fade, and drowsiness soon wanders in. I realize I am going to find sleep, and I guess maybe it’s because I think we have done what we needed to.

Or we almost have. Tomorrow will tell.

My eyelids feather down and close.

Tomorrow comes and goes.

Three days later, they let us out and lead us up the same stairs, but unrestrained. I cannot tell our fate from the stares of the prison guards.

We arrive before the prison’s tall black gates and are left there. The gates start to swing open.

“Be ready for anything,” Rorsyd says out the side of his mouth.

I smile and say nothing, for I’ve already glimpsed what is outside the gates.

A squad of soldiers is waiting, fully dressed in fancy palace uniform, with silver bits where Madlin wore gold.

The azure sea and the masts of many tall ships, the tower where Rorsyd was held—the cage is gone—these form a beautifully pristine backdrop. Seagulls circle on the winds, calling mournfully.

The captain salutes us.

“We are your guard and will be escorting you to where King Madlin will be delivering a speech. I was told to apologize for your incarceration.” He grimaces. “So I did that, just then. Put these on. Pull up the hoods.” He hands over two dark blue cloaks with hoods and waits for us to dress. “Now, follow me.” He makes a precise, parade-ground turn.

“I sense some disturbance in his commitment,” I whisper to Rorsyd as we head down the sloping road with guards both ahead and behind us.

“Yes.” He studies the sky. “We could be across the Fathomless Sea and in Wenway in a few hours. You know what to do if I shift?”

“I do.” Climb him like a spider being chased by a houseowner with a flaming torch. Though I’d love to be able to climb him for sexier reasons.

That I’m even thinking about sex is a good sign when we’ve been in a cell for three days…

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