Before Klia could make out any more than that Rhazat pressed a hand to the wound. When she removed it there was no sign of it or any of the black blood.

“I’m not so easily killed,” she said with a smile that promised bad things to come. “You do try my patience, my dear.”

Walking back to where the dra’gorgos still held Klia, gripping her waist and bloody outstretched hand in a hideous parody of a dancing figure, Rhazat picked up the knife, cocked her head as she inspected the glistening blade, then plunged it into Klia’s side just below her ribs. Klia gritted her teeth and swallowed a cry of pain as the dyrmagnos gave the crude blade a slight twist and yanked it out.

“So you’re finally going to kill me,” Klia gasped. “Go on, then. Don’t make a meal of it.”

“Oh, but I would make a meal of it, if that’s what I chose to do with you, and your death would take a day or more.” She covered the rent in Klia’s coat with her hand and suddenly the pain ceased as if it had never happened. “Even Nhandi screamed in the end, as I flayed the last of her skin from the bottoms of her feet. But we both know I’m not going to kill you.”

The dra’gorgos, responding to some unspoken command, slid its icy grip from Klia’s hand to her forearm. Rhazat took the hand between her own, and the pain stopped there, as well. When she let go, Klia saw that nothing but the pale, slightly raised line of a well-healed scar remained, paralleling the delicate bones in the back of her hand.

“Shall we agree to play nicely?” asked Rhazat, lazily waving the blade inches from Klia’s eyes. “Some things are harder to heal than others. Now, who brought you the food?”

Klia stared her down, saying nothing. It had been easier to stand up to the dyrmagnos when she had no hope of rescue. Now the will to live reasserted itself, yet she could not betray Alec.

“Very well,” said Rhazat. “Since you’re not hungry, I certainly won’t force you.”

At another unspoken command the dra’gorgos bore Klia at dizzying speed up to her bedchamber and left her there, slamming the door closed and disappearing. Klia went to the door and tried the latch. For the first time since she’d come here, it was locked. She went to the window and found that it still opened. Instinct dictated that she use any means necessary to get down to the ground and run. Logic overrode it with the knowledge that there was no place to go.