The larger one glances between them. ‘Just get it done, Locke!’
Locke looks down at his mangled hand. ‘I know you want me to suffer, Morgan, and I agree that I should but…I’ll need the potion for strength in case the conjure is stubborn…and also because I won’t be able to perform the necessary movements with my fingers broken.’
‘Jak, pour a potion down his throat!’ the large one, Morgan, commands.
Jak slams a vial down in front of Locke without a word. Without delay, the mage pulls the cork out and tips its contents into his mouth.
‘You better be able to make her as she was,’ Morgan snarls, ‘or I swear to every god in the Dark and Light, I will snap your neck, like I did Warrior’s and leave your corpse in this room to rot.’
‘That’s fair,’ Locke mutters with a nod, not looking at his friends, nor at me.
My eyes narrow a fraction. These are more delaying tactics. Locke isn’t taking me anywhere. I’m out of the pits. I should count myself lucky and try to escape.
Survive.
I surreptitiously survey the door and then the casement, wondering if I can make it before this mage works whatever magick they’re talking about on me. Gods only know what kind of a trick this is, what he’s actually planning to do to me.
‘Don’t even think about it, Bryn,’ Morgan rumbles, touching his nose and looking rueful.
But I can’t not.
Survival is the only thing that matters.
I notice the bracelet he took from me last night on the floor by the hearth and, with not one more moment’s thought or hesitation, I swipe it as I throw myself across the bed, landing on my feet right in front of the casement.
I don’t look back as I fling it open and dive out.
I think I’m free. For a moment I feel as if I’m flying, but then a meaty hand grabs me by my shirt and my hair. I hear the cloth rip as I’m pulled swiftly back into the room, my shriek stifled by the big one’s huge hand once more.
He looks more long-suffering than angry at me though, and he pulls my long shirt down in an odd attempt to preserve my modesty.
‘Good catch, Morgan. Fuck! I thought she was going for the door.’
‘You foolish woman,’ Jak says harshly, looming over me and making me cower because I think he’s going to hit me.
But Morgan pushes him away. ‘Leave her be. You know she isn’t right. Locke, do it before she flings herself to her death just to be away from us.’
‘No!’ I wriggle in his arms, trying to gain purchase on anything to escape his clutches.
I smack his face, but all he does is scowl at the mage, who’s walking toward us looking much better. His eyes aren’t so swollen and his fingers are moving, turning in the air in front of him.
I flinch and tense, digging my fingers into the arms of the large fae who’s holding me.
Survive.
‘Please, my lord,’ I whimper, pretending to submit. ‘Don’t turn me into a beast or make me grow roots from my hair!’
‘It’s done.’
I open one eye, and breathe out slowly. My head tingles a little. My eyes bore into the mage. ‘That’s it?’
‘Bryn? Do you know who we are? Do you remember us?’
‘Morgan!’ I exclaim. ‘Locke!’
My grin is wide. I scramble out of the large one’s arms and the idiot lets me go.
I immediately dive for the casement again and he swears. The cunt is faster than he looks because he’s able to grab me once more and holds me while I strike at him and curse him, his mother, his children, and his horse.
