“Yeah,” said Fifer, growing consternated. “Why didn’t she throw us into the castle dungeon or the catacombs?”

“Maybe because we know how to escape from those places.”

“It doesn’t seem too hard to escape from this abandoned dump,” said Fifer. “All we have to do is make it down the stairs.”

“Easier said than done.”

Neither of them could see outside, but Fifer soon grew curious enough to gingerly get to her feet once more. She held her injured wrist close to her chest to keep it from jiggling and went to a window facing east. There she took in the overgrown landscape and spied two of the dragons from their journey standing guard at the front corners of the property. “There are dragons here,” said Fifer. “I can see two of them. The red ones that were with us when the Revinir abducted us.”

“I’m not surprised. But I’m still not sure where ‘here’ is.”

Fifer groaned in pain simply from walking but kept going toward another window, facing south. She could see the late-afternoon sun off to her right and determined her bearings from it. “There’s a third dragon at the southwest corner of the property. I’ll bet there’s a fourth one on the northwest.”

“Not interested in taking that bet,” said Thisbe, knowing Fifer was probably right. She eased up and looked down the spiral stone steps. “How high up are we?”

“At least a few floors. I’ll go find out. Hand me your canteen, in case I find water.”

“Don’t go too far,” Thisbe said anxiously. “I’m not sure what those dragons will do.” Reluctantly she held out her canteen.

Fifer took it and slipped the strap over her head and arm. “They’ve had plenty of chances to kill us, so obviously that’s not on their agenda. And if the Revinir is making them guard us or something, there’s got to be food and water around for them. I’m guessing it can’t be too far to find a source. Besides, Dev taught us that nobody builds a house where there’s no water.” She bit her lip, having forgotten that the Revinir had killed him. “Ugh, sorry,” she whispered. Blinding sorrow gripped her. It was too much to think about, and she was mortified that she’d mentioned him and cracked open more wounds. She started down the stairs, not even able to look at Thisbe, and took one careful step after another.

Thisbe’s lip quivered. She felt miserable—physically from the fall and emotionally about Dev. Just thinking of him made her not want to be alone. She felt vulnerable, unable to walk, and worried for her sister venturing out alone without being able to fight properly because of her injuries. Not to mention having so few components. “Please be careful,” she called.

“I will,” Fifer replied. She continued down, moving slowly as her aching body allowed.