Amaris let out a muffled choke as she rolled onto one side. She bent her right knee, bringing it up to her chest to create space between her torso and the stone floor with her left leg outstretched behind her, toes rolling her onto the ball of her foot. Using her knee as leverage, she pushed herself up and was able to get her feet underfoot.

Her eyes struggled to adjust to the dismal, drab space. Her vision had never served her well in the dark. Her gaze filtered through the gloom, one shape at a time. The light from windows around corners illuminated just enough, yet nothing at all. She was in a cream-bricked room—no, a cell—not with the straight four walls of a jail but in a hall that seemed to curve ever so slightly. While three walls of her cell were made of the iron bars one might expect of a horrid dungeon, the wall that should have been the barrier to the outside was made from wood, containing a single slit down its middle.

Despite her pounding headache, she forced herself to study the wall. Her best guess was that she was on the wall closest to the outside world. She’d barely absorbed the layout before something far more important leapt to the forefront of her mind.

Ash and Malik.

Her heart stuttered painfully as she searched for the others.

Her eyes now fully adjusted, she spotted her companions in the cell opposite hers, still unconscious. Their cell, like hers, had its iron bars, but their far wall was the same cream stone of the Castle of Aubade. Why did hers have a slitted, wooden wall? She shoved the thought to the back of her mind, deciding architectural design was the least of her worries.

Amaris tried to call out through the muffle of her gag.

Ash’s red hair was easy to spy. He faced away from her and made no movements at her sounds. Beside his motionless form, Malik stirred. He had been left in a sitting position, head slumped to his chest with his hands behind him. Amaris cried out again against her gag, then nearly cried in relief as her friend’s emerald eyes fluttered open.

Malik was quick to consciousness.

He attempted to stand the moment he realized she was trapped behind bars but quickly discovered his hands were similarly bound like hers. She continued to stare with frenzied intensity as he fumbled against his bindings, and she noticed that neither Ash nor Malik appeared to have any fabric muzzling him as she did. Perhaps gags were unnecessary for anyone who didn’t contain a witch’s malevolent power. After what felt like a grim eternity, Malik created enough leverage with his bound hands to get his feet underneath him.

He made it to his feet and pushed his chest against the bars as he gaped at Amaris.

“Are you all right?”