‘‘Why?’’ Cyrene asked as I hurried toward it. The window inside it was too small to climb through, but there was another room on the other side of it. Obviously Aisling had warded the windows to this room with the intention of keeping me prisoner, but hope rose within me that she might have forgotten the connecting room’s windows.

‘‘Mayling?’’ Cy’s voice followed me as I persuaded the lock on the door to the other room to release, swinging open the door to find myself face-to-face with the healer named Gabriel, who was tending to a shirtless Istvàn.

‘‘Oh! I’m . . . sorry. Just . . . uh . . . carry on,’’ I said lamely, quickly retreating through the bathroom to Cyrene’s room before either man could say anything.

I was extremely aware of an amused silver-eyed gaze on me as I backed out.

‘‘May?’’ Cyrene’s brow furrowed. ‘‘Whatever is the matter with you? You’re beet red!’’

‘‘Nothing,’’ I said, locking her door to the bathroom. ‘‘Er . . . what was it you asked me a minute ago?’’

‘‘Why?’’ she repeated.

‘‘Why what?’’

‘‘Why do we have to get out of here so quickly? That Aisling seems very nice, not like a demon lord at all. I can’t wait to tell the sisters that I met her— they’ll be thrilled. Do you think she’d give me her autograph?’’

‘‘I have no idea, but as nice as she is, those dragons are nothing but trouble. I’ll feel much better when we’re out of here.’’

‘‘Oh, I don’t know,’’ she said with a dreamy note to her voice, a little smile on her lips as she smoothed out the blanket covering her. ‘‘That silver dragon Gabriel is absolutely stunning, don’t you think? He has such a nice voice, and those dimples just make me want to pounce on him.’’

I stared at her for a moment, a strange unhappiness twanging my consciousness at her words. Why shouldn’t she find him attractive? I certainly did. But down that path I could not go, so I pushed down the unhappiness, focusing on what was important. ‘‘He’s also a wyvern, and you and I both know that means trouble. Wyverns are all-powerful, and frankly, they make me nervous.’’

‘‘I think he liked me, too,’’ she continued, her eyes shining as she gazed at the ceiling. ‘‘His hands were so gentle on me, Mayling; you have no idea how wonderful it felt to have him stroking my neck.’’

Something awfully close to a spike of jealousy stabbed through me. I squashed it mercilessly. I’d never been jealous of Cyrene’s romantic interests in the past, and I certainly wasn’t about to start.

‘‘How do you feel?’’ I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to scrutinize her face. ‘‘How do you really feel? Do you think you can walk if I help you?’’