Dion screamed. The pain was agonizing, a sensation of fierce burning, as if his skin was being peeled away in slabs and his insides ripped out. He smelled his own sizzling flesh as the pain went on and on. He was only able to writhe and gasp until the magus finally pulled his staff away.

The pain eased, but it didn’t let up, leaving Dion twitching on the ground. ‘I won’t change,’ he whispered.

‘Wait here,’ Tarik said to his companion. ‘Keep an eye on him.’

Dion felt something hard prodding him in the burned skin of his abdomen and his eyes shot wide open. He put a hand to his forehead, waiting for the pain to subside, swallowing to prevent his stomach from retching and causing him even more agony.

The lean sorcerer moved to prod him again, but he shuffled away. His wary eyes on the gray-robed magus sharing the cage with him, he forced himself to stand.

The sorcerer jerked his chin in the direction of the iron gate. At the same instant, Dion heard a quiet, feminine voice, familiar but quavering.

‘Dion?’

Despite the pain he was in, he rushed to the iron gate, gripping hold of the bars and peering out. When he saw her standing on the other side, he drew in a sharp breath.

Isobel had lost weight, and there were dark, heavy shadows under her blue eyes. Her once-lustrous blonde hair was matted, and the expression on her pretty face was wretched. Thin and sallow, she barely filled her plain linen tunic. She looked anything but the way a healthy woman should.

‘I . . . I wanted to see you,’ Dion stammered.

‘What have they done to you?’ she whispered.

‘Here she is then,’ Tarik said, standing beside Isobel with his staff in hand. ‘Now change your shape and eat your food. If we don’t see you eating, we’ll kill her right now, in front of you.’

‘How are you?’ Dion looked firmly into Isobel’s eyes. ‘Have they hurt you?’

She hung her head and started to cry. ‘I want to go home.’

‘That’s enough,’ Tarik spat. ‘Did you hear me? If you want her to live, do as I command.’

Shoulders slumped, Dion glanced at the sorcerer sharing the cell with him and nodded. ‘Don’t hurt her,’ he said. ‘I’ll change.’

He stood back from the bars, his eyes on Isobel the entire time. He hoped that she could be strong, for just a little longer, for both her sake and their unborn child’s. His plan was desperate, he knew, but it was all they had. He was without a collar. There were two sorcerers, but no soldiers. Isobel needed him.

Dion’s heart began to race, hammering at his chest with powerful blows. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he closed his eyes.