other man’s breath leave his body in a rush, and the pair tumbled across the ground haphazardly. Vambran wanted to yank his dagger free and deal a killing blow to the skirmisher, but there was no time. Already the main force to his left had closed to within bow range, and a hail of arrows was dropping down among the straggling Crescents behind him. In another few moments, the troops would be on him and his men, and there wouldn’t be enough time to disappear into the depths of the forest. Instead

play real nice, and maybe we won’t stick you like a pig for roasting.” He was hardly much larger than the girl herself, and he crouched warily on the balls of his feet as he approached. “I don’t think so,” Emriana said, just as the man lunged at her. She slashed at the outstretched hand coming toward her, able to follow it by the glint of a ring shining in the dim light of the distant doorway. Her assailant must have guessed at her intentions, for he snatched his hand back at the last moment,

head was pressed against the back of the chair, and still she wanted to draw away even more. “Please,” she said, her voice nearly a whimper. “I know what you’ll do. I can’t help my feelings, but I’m not crossing you, I swear by Tyr’s scales. I will not. The thoughts—they just come, and I—” And she did look away, then, turned her head to one side and cried, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as the fear and pain washed over her. Grozier drew back, seemingly satisfied. “You fret too much,”

prevented it. Instead, he just turned away, unwilling to give the man the satisfaction of seeing his distress. That’s when he noticed the small window on the back side of the little alcove. Like the main opening, it was warded with bars, but it was of a height that he could look through it without having to stand too high. In fact, the window afforded a view into a larger chamber beyond. The ceiling of that room was the same height as that of the torture chamber, but the floor was well below

drifted off by themselves at a natural pace, wandering in and out of the palace’s open chambers, casually strolling about the grounds. Just getting away from the sight of the hated priest seemed to lift Pilos’s spirits, and Emriana felt much better. After perhaps half an hour or more of pretending they were just a happy young couple seeing the splendors of the Generon, Emriana began to keep watch for a means of slipping away from the party and into the less-trafficked sections of the palace. It