I doze on the mat rolled out by the banked fire in Lirika’s room across the hall. My dreams flow from Bardok’s cruelly smiling visage as he towered over me in the underground cell, my bloodied finger in his hand, to the guard with his wide, terrified gaze and his life flowing out between his fingers, to the way my knife sliced through Efrun’s gut.
“Wake up.” Lirika’s voice breaks through my consciousness.
upI rouse with a half-swallowed cry, my vision full of blood— dribbling from my empty knuckle, streaming from the guard, drenching my hands. I gasp a breath, aware she’s got me by the shoulders, that she must have given me a shake. “Sorry.”
“Lirika!” Bren calls urgently through the door.
“All’s well,” she says, moving at once to let him in. I pull the sheet up around my shoulders. I’m
