But not guaranteed. The idea of him getting away is intolerable. Even worse, I can do nothing about it.

Ahead, sunlight narrows to bright flecks stippling the forest floor. The ground began to incline some time ago, indicating how closely our path hugs the outskirts of the Coral Mountains. My thoughts grow darker the farther we travel. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this.

“Are you injured?” he asks abruptly.

My shoulders bunch. “I’m fine, Your Highness.”

“There’s a tightness about your neck every time your drake jostles you,” he says. I wonder at why he’s paying such close attention. He probably knows I still plan to escape. “You hide it well.”

I’ve been consciously keeping my expression as impassive as possible. He must be especially skilled at reading faces. I don’t appease his concern, whether real or calculated, and he doesn’t press me further.

After what feels like hours, he glances over his shoulder and shares a look with his Blades that I can’t decipher. A moment later, our path turns, making a sharp descent. I can’t help the sudden catch of my breath. I jerk on Yandor’s reins, coming to a stop. Instantly, two Blades circle forward to close me in.

I know this place, although I’ve only been here once before. Even the surrounding wilderness can’t mask the pungent smell of the prison and the reek of misery. Spread out below us is the Valley of Cranes.

“Why are we here?” I ask quietly. Anything louder and I worry he’ll hear the high note of my voice. “I thought you were taking us back to Vos Talwyn.”

He reaches out to grip my reins. “My sister doesn’t allow shamanborn into the capital except for one reason.”

Public execution. My dread grows, heightened by Saengo’s apprehension, which I can’t shut out. Her emotions transform from heat into flame, trying to scorch away my own. It’s oppressive, and I want to snap at her to stop it, but I don’t know that she even realizes what she’s doing.

I lower my chin and close my eyes, breathing deep. Again this creeping panic sits in me as comfortably as a bed of nails. Kendara’s voice rings in my head. “Discipline always. Stay your hand. Play your role.” I release a slow, steady breath.

“You will have to remain here for questioning.” Prince Meilek sounds irritatingly reasonable. “And until we determine what happened at the teahouse.”

Play my role. Very well. I can do that. For now. Let him believe he’s gained my trust. Once he hands me over to someone else, maybe I can devise a proper escape. I lift my chin and nod curtly to indicate I won’t fight. Prince Meilek releases my reins.