“I do deserve better,” Sylvie agreed, taking a step back in alarm as she realized there was a very real prospect of a hug unless she took evasive action. “But we have far bigger issues. They’re all going to be shouting at each other and putting out fires for a while yet, so we have time to think. Let’s do that very carefully and get this right.”

“Get what right?”

Sylvie blinked at her. “Rescuing Gwen, of course.”

Chapter Forty-Four
A foolish, reckless idiot with her head in the clouds

Gwen wedged herself into the corner of the cell and tried not to shiver.

We should’ve gotten those villagers out of here the moment they were taken, she thought guiltily. She’d never been in a jail cell before, but between the unrelenting chill, the constant steady dripping sounds from the ceiling, and the sporadic, not-so-distant rustlings of rodents, Gwen realized she’d never fully imagined quite how awful it was.

At least she could lean her shoulder against the stone wall and let the chill soothe the pain for her. It was even better than Olivia’s basin of cool water. She’d tried, when she’d first been tossed in here, to haul the heavy door up off its hinges again—but the other night, it had taken her efforts combined with Isobelle’s and Olivia’s, plus the help of a few of the villagers. On her own, she could barely shift the door at all.

The distant screams and foundation-shaking roars from the dragon had long since faded. If any of the lore about them was right, though, it would be back. The gold mines had been closed long ago because the precious metal attracted the monsters. Now, a fortune in gold and gems would be under guard at the heart of Darkhaven castle, and the beast had gotten quite a good look at it while it flew about the tournament.

Gwen closed her eyes and her mind filled instantly with a memory of the dragon as it had flown over the tournament grounds. Its wingspan was wide enough to block out the sun across the entire stands, and with one casual breath it had razed half the festival.

And yet her blood sang when she saw it. Some terrifying instinct, buried deep within her, had burst out in one piercing rush, and she had actually fought the guards dragging her toward safety in order to stay where the dragon was. In order to stand, to fight.

Gwen shuddered and buried her face in her hands. When had she turned from a sensible, practical village girl into a foolish, reckless idiot with her head in the clouds?

Isobelle, she thought, heart aching. That’s when.