Chapter Twenty-Eight
Misery Loves Company
Lysandir held his head high as he walked between the two Forsworn Ones into Mar Valion. He had realized once all three of them were airborne how futile his struggles were, but he refused to be cowed, no matter how much the insidious despair of his captors threatened to overwhelm him.
The magic-infused manacles tingled against his skin with a cold that burned. They kept his powers completely out of reach. Try as he might, he could not lash out.
The interior of Saviadro’s obsidian tower was cold and sterile. Other than a few guttering torches that filled the air with the scent of burning pitch that called out to him, no decorations hung on the walls. The ceiling and floor—everything was unrelieved dark stone.
He heard whispers in the Black Tongu
