Then, suddenly, everyone was shouting and howling their support, all of them joined in the wild rawness of the moment, caught up in the demon’s demonstration of strength and their need to be reassured that there was someone who could help them. Their shouts rose to wails and screams, and at the demon’s beckoning they pressed forward toward the platform, begging him to help them, to stand with them, to give them the benefit of his protection.

Of the Hawk’s protection.

Even the council members were with him now, coming close enough that they could be heard above the crowd’s roar, but not close enough that he could touch them. He smiled benevolently and nodded his approval. They were his now, all of them.

They were his to do with as he chose.

Except for one, who quickly melted away into the darkness.

AISLINNE KRAY SAT QUIETLY in the near-darkness of her prison, listening to the sounds echoing without. Even from underground in the basement storeroom and from behind thick walls and the heavy wooden door, she could hear the tumult. She had become aware of something happening earlier, perhaps as long as several hours ago, voices drifting down to where she sat, growing steadily stronger as time passed, both in numbers and in volume. Some sort of gathering was taking place right outside the building in which she was locked away. She wondered if it had anything to do with her imprisonment. Had Pogue called for her release? Were people gathering to hear his decision and to make a judgment of their own on her fate?

It was impossible to tell. Because the sounds did not come from overhead—there was no creaking of floorboards or thudding of boots—she knew that everything was taking place outside the building. Time passed as the sounds rose and fell in regular cadence until just a little while ago they had erupted in a series of sharp bursts.

Something unexpected and wild had happened, for all at once the collective voice of the crowd exploded with such a roar that she came to her feet in response. She hurried to the door and tried to listen through the cracks in the jamb. She pounded on the door and called the guards to tell her what was happening, but no one came. She shouted a long time, but to no avail. Defeated, she walked back across the room and resumed her seat. She was at the mercy of her captors, and she was not sure that even her husband could save her.

Pogue, please help me, she whispered silently. Do not abandon me.

As if in answer to her prayer, she heard movement on the other side of the door. The scrape of a boot, a fumbling at the door, the release of the lock, and a soft squeal of wood and metal as the door swung open.