“Why ask me?” I shrug. “I’m only going to lie.”

Slaine’s mouth pops in a full-bellied laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling as an unusually wheezy sound enters the room. “I was wondering what type of creature could cause six of the greatest demons in The Far Place to lose their heads. I’m glad I have my answer now, little creature.”

He reaches up, cupping the side of my face in a palm, and his skin is so cold, it freezes the words in my throat. “I’m glad we’ve had this talk. Until later, Dagny Olavera.”

With that, Slaine tears his hand from my face and stalks out of my cell, slamming the door closed with enough force to shake the walls. Leaving me with one thought, and one alone.

We’re so fucked.

7. Cyprien

7

Cyprien

I stare blankly at the bleak stone wall opposite the one I’m chained to, counting the rings of snow lichen across the cracked slabs. I’ve been locked away in this frozen hellhole for the better part of a week with nothing to do, nothing to ease the rapid thoughts flitting about my mind, filling me with anxious energy.

Gods, it’s so lame here.

“Is anyone else thinking about how much this sucks?” I grumble, laying my head back against the wall as a sigh puffs from my lips. “Seriously. I think I’m going to lose it if I have to sit here for another hour doing nothing.”

Lir groans from his position at the far-left corner of the cell, his sapphire eyes rolling to the back of his skull. “Even starving and near death, you still find new ways to be irritating.”

“At least I’m not boring, like some.”

At this, Roark snorts a laugh, and a haughty smirk makes its way onto my face. “You see? Roark gets it.”

“Easy, thumper,” Roark growls, his voice cracking from disuse. “I still think you’re annoying as fuck.”

“Well, that’s not very nice.” I frown. “Suppose we all drop dead in the next minute? Would you really want those to be your last words to your loved one? Could you live with the guilt?”

“If I’m dead, I don’t suppose I’ll have the luxury of feeling anything,” Roark replies. “But yes. To answer your question.”

Lir lets out a rare chuckle, and though it's at my expense, I can’t fight the rush of joy it brings. “You’re such a sweet talker, Roark. I’m so glad I’m rooming with you instead of someone with a modicum of charisma and the ability to hold a pleasant conversation. That would be so tiring.”

“I guess the welwigs knew what they were doing when they dragged me to this place,” Roark mumbles, crossing his arms behind his head. “They realized what a gift to this world I’d be.”