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Her eyes flicked over his many chains and bindings, an eyebrow raised. “Can’t say I’m sure where to start.”
The usual frustration overtook his relief. “Sarn,” he cursed, his smile dropping.
“Fine, fine,” she answered, smirking.
As Sigil danced with the knight, Sorasa set to his chains. She started at the wrists, fitting different keys to different locks. His first arm came loose with a snap, his joints aching. When she freed the other wrist, he bit back a moan low in his throat.
“Easy, Dom, almost there,” she murmured, her tone oddly gentle. “Can you handle the neck?”
He answered by prying the collar off himself, the steel bending in his grasp.
Beneath him, Sorasa grinned.
The last chains fell from his body, and Dom lunged from the cursed wall. He was an aching hurricane, all pain and rage. His foot struck iron and the cell door exploded off its hinges, falling backward with a dull clang. Everything came into sharp, impossible focus, even as time seemed to slow.
Dom felt like a giant released, a dragon rising. A beast unbound.
As a priest bows before a god, Sigil bowed out of Dom’s way.
Beneath his helmet, the knight’s face went white, his mouth gapingopen. The sword dropped from his hand, landing hard on the floor. He turned and ran, fleeing before a tidal wave of immortal fury.
Dom held no love for violence. He made quick, quiet work of the knight.
And silence fell again.
Sorasa finally slumped, leaning back against the bars. Heaving a ragged breath, she braced her bad arm beneath her knees, her other hand against her dislocated shoulder. With a sick, echoing pop, it slid back into the socket. Dom could not help but wince, seeing the rare flash of pain across her face.
A half second later, Sigil wrapped her in a bruising embrace. Sorasa winced over her shoulder, fighting her off.
“I don’t need broken ribs on top of everything else,” she ground out, straightening up again. But she still listed, keeping one hand on the bars for support. With the other, she grabbed the cup of water off the floor of her cell and drank greedily.
Sorasa wore her mask even now, but Dom saw right through it. He picked up the knight’s sword, gripping it firmly, before striding back to her.
Gingerly, he put out a hand.
“I’ll carry you if I must,” Dom said.
Her eyes snapped to his, full of venom.
“I’d rather die,” she spat, shoving off the bars. With a snap of her wrist, she threw the cup down the corridor and set off at a trot.
“That might happen,” he grumbled after her, matching stride.
Sigil fell in line, stopping only to pull a pair of daggers off the knight. She gave one to Sorasa and used the other to cut her bindings. With a hiss, she clasped her wrists, soothing the rings of raw skin.
“What now?” the bounty hunter said.
Behind them, the torch on the ground flickered, dying.
“Follow me,” Dom said, his vision adjusting to the darkness. Luckily the other torch still burned around the far corner, its rippling fire growing stronger with every step.
Sorasa scoffed at his side.
“Followme,” she cut in. “I’m the only one who knows where we’re going. And what we’re going to do when we get there.”
“The first thing we’re going to do is feed you,” Dom snapped back.
In the shadows, Sorasa hissed. “You sound like the squire.”
