Page 67 of Truth's Blade

“So glad we brought her along,” Ivan murmured. “That was a very good idea.”

The others said nothing, but Viviane could see their full focus was on the door, and all of them were standing now, tense and ready for whatever was to come.

She rose herself, her gaze flicking to Jon, who nodded, and crouched beside Ric.

“Tell us what he did to you,” he murmured. “We need to know.”

“Run without me,” Ric said. He was still sitting against the wall, eyes closed, and there was something wrong with the way he was breathing.

“Not going to happen,” Jon said.

“Ric, you insult us,” Vivi said softly. “We would never leave you. Never.”

He opened his eyelids a little, so she just caught a glimpse of the bright blue of his eyes. “You must.”

“Never,” she said again. “I’d rather stay behind.”

“He did something to me. I don’t know what, but it hurts to move.” Ric finally opened his eyes fully. “And just now, in that torture chamber, he hit me with a stick. I don’t think it was a normal stick. There was some spell on it.”

“Where?” she asked.

He touched his ribs. “It hurts to breathe.”

She wished she had needle and thread. She wished his hair was longer. But wishing would accomplish nothing right now.

She would never sleep without a needle and thread wound into her clothing ever again.

“Gallain and I will carry you,” Ivan said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if it were a foregone conclusion.

Ric looked like he wanted to argue, and Vivi pointed to him, then put a finger to her lips.

She saw his own lips quirk a little at her silent command to keep his mouth shut and accept he was going to be helped.

It was the first smile they’d gotten out of him since they’d been taken, and the sight of it lightened her heart.

And then her heart soared as the door gave a final crack and Theo shoved his shoulder into the gap and pushed his way into the room.

He glanced at her, his eyes crinkling in the corners at the sight of her.

He turned back to the door. “We’ll need you in here,” he whispered to someone outside. “They’re chained.”

A woman slipped through the narrow gap, and then Theo propped the door closed. Hopefully, if Marchant looked across at his prison, he wouldn’t notice the door had been forced.

“Melodie.” Caro gave a little wave. “Thanks for the rescue.”

Everyone seemed a little . . . embarrassed at the sight of her, and Viviane wondered what had happened to make them all feel guilty.

Melodie didn’t seem to hold any grudge, though. “Let’s see,” she said, crouching beside Caro to look at the rough keyhole.

She lifted Caro’s ankle, angling it into the sunlight coming through the window.

“The key is square-shaped, and the end is short and bent at a right angle to the part he holds.” Jon had been watching their rescuers with a face that tried not to show too much hope. “If that’s what you’re trying to understand.”

Melodie looked over at him. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to understand.” She lifted her bag over her head and set it down, along with the small cup Viviane had noticed she was holding.She pulled out a piece of paper, and then a brush and a wooden box. She set the paper over the key hole and gave it a light rub, then opened the box to reveal watercolor paints, and began painting in quick, sure strokes.

Theo stood near the door, sword drawn, as if this was their usual method, his gaze flicking to Melodie every now and then, as if to make sure she was safe.

“What else would work, if this doesn’t fit?” Melodie asked as she set the paper in a patch of sunlight. “Maybe a hand tong?”

---