When they got up, Thisbe repositioned herself so she was behind Rohan. Seeing him offered her a slight bit of comfort. But along with it came an unidentifiable ache that was marginally akin to how she felt about Alex’s death—grief and loss, mixed with tremendous guilt. Obviously Rohan wasn’t dead, so that made the comparison weak. But if Rohan couldn’t recognize her after all they’d been through, didn’t that sort of make him dead to her, in a way? Could Thisbe have done something to prevent this? Was there anything she could do now to snap him and the others out of it? And she still wondered where Maiven was. Did she know Rohan was down here? Was she doing anything about it? Or had she been captured too and put back in her dungeon cell?

As they came upon the first hallway containing a slave crypt, one of their group peeled off from the others and went down it toward the open door. Not long after, Mangrel, the crypt keeper, rounded a corner and came upon them, apparently having received word of their arrival and preparing to lock them into their rooms until it was time to wake them up.

When Mangrel caught sight of Thisbe, his expression changed. “They got you, too,” he murmured, and shook his head slightly.

Thisbe’s eyes widened, but luckily Mangrel had turned and didn’t see it. Had he seemed disappointed about Thisbe’s recapture? As if he’d hoped Thisbe had actually escaped for good? It couldn’t be. Though Mangrel was not one of the Revinir’s soldiers, and perhaps had shown an ounce or two of kindness in the past, he’d always seemed to support the dragon-woman. Perhaps she’d finally gotten too horrible, and Mangrel had changed loyalties. Thisbe was determined to find out.

The man locked up the first slave, then returned and led the tired group to each crypt, securing them inside. Finally only Rohan and Thisbe remained. Thisbe sped up slightly so she could walk side by side with Rohan. And despite his vacant stare, her skin tingled being near him. She wanted desperately to take his hand, to look into his eyes and wake him up. To talk to him like they’d done so many times before. But even when she dared to steal a glance his way, he stared glassy-eyed at Mangrel’s back. Thisbe knew that any sort of familiarity she expressed might only be met with confusion, so of course she didn’t do those things. It was so sad and strange to have her best friend not know her.