Had Hanalea been frightened when she confronted the Demon King? Raisa felt plenty frightened now.

Ahead was a metal grillwork bolted into the stone with a massive metal lock at one side. As the torchlight bled through the cage door, Raisa could see movement in the gloom beyond, a shuffling of bodies.

It was a girl and two boys, fifteen or sixteen, maybe, though it was difficult to tell. They were thin and filthy, and they’d been beaten so badly they were scarcely recognizable as human. They did not crowd forward, as one might expect, but pressed themselves back into the corners as if hoping to escape Gillen’s notice.

Raisa was sickened—and furious to know that what Cuffs Alister had said was true.

“Hey, Sarie,” Gillen crooned, unfastening the door. “I’ve brought you some company.”

“Go away,” came a whisper from the dark. “We can’t tell you what we don’t know. We an’t seen Alister in months.”

“Come now, don’t be like that,” Gillen said, his voice silky. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“Who’d come to see me?” she demanded.

“I’ve got little Rebecca here, luv. She’s brought some supper.”

“Who?” Overcome by curiosity, Sarie shuffled out of the shadows and into the light. She was tall for her age, and broad of hip and shoulders. She looked like no relation to Raisa.

“Now your baby sister is here, I think we’ll get somewhere,” Gillen said with a bone-chilling smile. He tightened his grip on Raisa. “Maybe it’ll loosen your tongue when we put her on the rack.”

Sarie gaped at Raisa, then back at Gillen. “Who the bloody hell is this?”

In stories, Queen Hanalea fought off the powerful Demon King through strength of character and the power of good.

In the clan camps, they spoke of the small overcoming the mighty through the force of a focused mind.

Amon Byrne had shown Raisa street-fighting techniques meant to disarm a bigger and stronger opponent.

Raisa was smart enough to know that her chances of overpowering someone like Mac Gillen were slim to none. But when a person gives no quarter, if she’s fighting for her life, it can make a difference.

When she slammed both feet into Mac Gillen’s kneecaps, she knew it was unlikely to disable him. She hoped it would be enough to distract him.

In that she succeeded. He screamed like a stuck pig and went down, clutching at his knees, swearing.

“Get him!” Raisa shouted recklessly, rolling to her feet. “To me! Come on!”

With the strength born of desperation, the three Raggers jumped on Gillen, dragging him to the floor, kicking and punching for all they were worth. Gillen was like a massive bear set upon by coyotes who were snapping and biting and growling, but doing very little damage.