Iris. Iris. Wake up. Iris.
She was cold. So cold. She felt nothing else, not even her own body. All that existed was the cold.
The cold, and the voices whispering in her head.
Multiple voices. Voices she didn’t recognize; some with strange accents, some speaking in languages she didn’t know; but somehow, she knew they were all saying the same thing.
Wake up. Iris. Iris.
They were getting louder. It was like they were crowding in, closer and closer, blocking out the voices she heard outside of herself.
“I don’t think she’s alive.”
She couldn’t quite make out who was speaking. It was hard to hear over the whispering in her head.
Iris. Wake up. Iris. Iris.
“Does she even have a pulse?”
Wake up. Wake up. Iris. Wake up.
“Yeah, it’s there, but it’s faint. We need to get her inside.”
Iris. Iris. Wake up. Iris. Iris. Iris!
“Char, Rath, you finally decided to show up. What the—is that a human?”
Iris. Iris. Iris!
The whispers were getting even louder, drowning out the sudden shouting and cursing on the outside. It was unrelenting. She wanted to shut everything out, stop the noise, allow the cold to pull her down into the darkness where it was quiet, but the voices wouldn’t let her. The whispers were shouting.
Wake up! Wake up! Iris, wake up!
She gasped for air. Suddenly, she could feel.
She was shivering uncontrollably; the cold had soaked through to her bones. Thousands of stinging, icy needles pricked her skin wherever warmth touched her: the arms under her back and her knees, the chest against her cheek. They burned like fire. But there was a comfortable, soothing warmth, too. She held it in her right hand. It touched her heart, her fingertips, flowing gently outward to the rest of her body.
“Char, drop her! The amulet is glowing!”
Rath. That was Rath’s panicked voice. She was having trouble following the words, but she could recognize his voice now, and Char’s, too, rumbling through his chest and into her ear.
“She’s using it on herself, not me. Look, I’ll explain everything—after I take care of her.”
“And she’s a mage? Get her out of here!” a third voice shouted.
She didn’t know that one.
“She’s only used her magic to protect or heal. It’s never destructive,” Char replied, his voice calm and steady among the anger and fear. “Where do you want her?”
“I don’t want her. If all this mess is because you saw a pretty face—”
“That isn’t what’s going on here,” Rath interjected. “I had my suspicions when he first told me about her, too, but after seeing how he handled her last night, I can say without a doubt she’s just a prisoner to him. Nothing more.”
“Where do you want her?” Char repeated. “The sooner I deal with her, the sooner you’ll have your explanation.”
“And that explanation better be darn good. Srot may die because you two went off script—again. Thrak, take her.”
“No way,” another unknown voice said nervously. “I’m not touching a human mage.”
“Wait, Srot’s injuries were minor,” Rath said. “Just some scratches between his scales from a few lucky arrows.”
“Magic-tipped arrows,” the third man said bitingly.
“Just tell me where you want her.” Exasperation was creeping into Char’s voice.
There was an answering irate groan.
“High security cell. Thrak, go with him and make sure he doesn’t pull anything stupid. Alert the mage on duty. Rath, start talking. And I’m warning you both: if this isn’t good, I’m bringing you both up on charges of insubordination. And if Srot dies…”
An unspoken threat hanging in the air, a threat Iris didn’t know, but Char did. She felt his tension from every point of contact with his body.
“Fine,” he answered flatly.
He started walking, but he stopped again when she interrupted him. Or rather, her voice interrupted him.
“I c-c-can h-h-heal h-h-him.”
She felt her lips and tongue move. She heard her voice. But the words weren’t hers, and she didn’t know where they came from or why she said them. Her frozen mind was struggling to keep up with the argument flying around her. She was still shivering violently, although the gentle warmth flowing through her fingers was gradually chasing away the stinging, burning sensation.
“Like I’ll trust a human mage. Get her out of my sight.”
Char didn’t reply; he just started walking again.
The other voices faded into the background as Iris tried to make sense of these additional pieces of the puzzle. It was hard to match them together when she was shaking so hard, inside and out. And the surrounding air was getting colder.
Iris. Iris. Iris.
She moaned and shook her head, trying to dislodge the returning whispers. Her fingers wouldn’t release the amulet.
“What’s she doing?” a man’s voice asked nervously.
Thrak. It had to be Thrak. He was accompanying Char on the way to the jail.
“Healing herself.”
“You really think she’s valuable enough to risk your life?”
“I wouldn’t have brought her here if I didn’t. What’s going on with Srot?”
“Well, he seemed fine at first, but the scratches are getting wider and deeper, and he didn’t wake up yesterday morning.” Thrak paused for a moment, groaning with effort as stone scraped against stone. “He’s still unconscious.”
Char took a few more steps and then bent over, his warmth leaving her as he laid her on a cot. It was cold, as cold as the air. She wished he hadn’t put her down.
“Get another blanket,” he ordered Thrak.
“Why?”
“The sooner she warms up, the sooner she becomes useful.”
“If you say so.”
Thrak's footsteps left. The warmth of Char's hands returned as he tucked a blanket around her, leaning in close enough for her to feel his breath on her ear.
“Keep your mouth shut,” he warned here, dropping his voice to a near-whisper. “Don’t volunteer anything. Got it?”
She managed a nod, and then his breath was gone. Thrak's heavy footsteps returned.
“Here. I couldn’t find the mage. He must be tending to Srot.”
The weight of a folded blanket landed on top of Iris. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and then it was back, unfolded and draped across her. Char didn’t tuck it in this time.
“I’ll see him after I get this settled with Kelnor,” he said, his voice as hard and unfeeling as before. “Let’s go.”
Their footsteps retreated. Stone grated against stone, and silence fell.
Iris rolled onto her side with a whimper and curled up in a ball, pulling the blankets tighter around her. The air on her cheeks was cooler here than it was where she first woke up. There were goosebumps on her arms.
Iris, you can heal him.
“Shut up,” she mumbled.
The whispers moved away. She could still hear them off in the distance, but now she couldn’t make out any words. At least they were quieter, just a backdrop to her thoughts as she tried to process what was happening.
Maybe Char had been protecting her all along. Maybe he’d been playing a part in front of the other dragons to keep her safe. If so, then his kiss had been real, although she still didn’t know how to feel about that.
Or maybe he was playing a part in front of her when they were alone. Maybe he thought she’d be easier to manipulate if she trusted him.
She didn’t know what to believe. But if he was helping her, if he was risking his life for her—she didn’t want him to die.
Even if he was her enemy. She didn’t want anyone dying.
Her thoughts turned to Kayla, to Father John, Fred, and Ginger. Were they still alive? Was the town still standing?
She’d seen that mage deflecting the dragon’s fire carelessly in all directions without concern for what the flames set ablaze. If he’d done that the entire battle, he’d probably caused more damage to the town than the dragons did.
Char had said they were supposed to minimize damage. Ordered to do so.
The dragons cared more for her hometown than the king’s mage.
Her right hand was hot. She finally released the amulet, letting it fall toward the cot as she huddled under the blankets. It must have kept her alive during that flight. The whispers wouldn’t let her give in to hypothermia.
Who were they?
Time passed. The amulet cooled; the shivering subsided. She waited, alone and afraid.
It seemed like an eternity before stone scraped across stone again.
She sat up and turned towards the door. The dungeon cell was small, big enough only for the cot and a toilet. There wasn’t enough floor space for more than two other people, and they would have to crowd quite close to fit. But only one person stepped through the open doorway.
He looked thin and frail. His black robe hung from gaunt shoulders; his long, limp gray hair blended with his long gray beard. This was what she’d expected the king's mage to look like. But as different as the two mages appeared, there was an uncanny similarity between them. This man's golden eyes were as hard and frightening as the other’s frigid blue eyes.
Dread settled in the pit of her stomach.
His golden eyes dropped from her face to the amulet resting on her chest. She pulled the blankets up to cover it.
“Your name is Iris, correct?”
She blinked in surprise. His light, friendly voice was a direct contrast to his calculating expression.
“Y-yes,” she said hesitantly.
“And you are a mage?”
She shook her head.
“No? But I’ve heard multiple reports of you using magic. And that amulet is clearly magical.”
Don’t volunteer anything.
They were Char’s words, but the whispers were repeating them, over and over and over.
“I… don’t know what’s going on,” she said truthfully.
“Hm.”
The mage walked toward her, his steps purposeful and strong despite his weak appearance. Suddenly, his hand snaked out, snatching the blanket away and grabbing the amulet from her chest with long, bony fingers. She flinched back, but she couldn’t go far with the brass chain digging into her neck.
“Where did you get this?”
“I-it was a gift.”
His golden eyes flicked to her face. “From?”
“F-from… a friend.”
He laughed and dropped the amulet. It swung back and thudded against her sternum, against her pounding heart.
“You are afraid. Understandably so. But I can assure you, no harm will come to you so long as you cooperate.”
She swallowed nervously. “What does that mean?”
“For the moment, it means you will not attempt to use any magic.” He reached into his robe and produced a small cloth bag and a pair of cloth gloves. “Put these on,” he said, handing her the gloves. “And this will take care of the amulet.”
She didn’t like the way he touched her so casually, the feel of his fingers on her when he picked up the amulet, but she kept her mouth shut and pulled the gloves on as he tied the bag around the amulet. She didn’t want to know what he’d do if she spoke against him.
Then his golden eyes began to glow, and terror gripped her. She sat perfectly still, afraid even to breathe. The simple brown cloth of the gloves melded to her skin, turning the same gold as the mage’s eyes, and the bag around the amulet did the same.
It was painless, and it was over in an instant.
His eyes stopped glowing, and he dropped the amulet, stepping back with a deep, shaky breath. Perspiration beaded his forehead.
“Are you hungry?” he asked cheerfully.
She shook her head.
“You need your strength, young lady. That amulet of yours is quite valuable, which means you are, too. I’ll have something brought for you.”
He turned and left without waiting for a response, grunting as he pushed the stone door into place. She let out her breath and flopped back onto the cot. The whispers hadn’t stopped, but they were muted, distant, unintelligible. She pulled the blankets over herself again and squeezed her eyes shut.
This nightmare just wouldn’t end.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkGC7DobJMH
