I wake from a troubled doze to the sound of soft voices outside my door.
I sit up with a jerk, my thoughts flying to Niya, to the feeling of Bren’s hands around my wrists as he held me back, to the utter helplessness of watching my sister walk out of my life, out of her own, into a future no one should have to face.
I inhale hard and feel a faint line of pain across my neck, curving from ear to ear: the bruises left behind by the noose, eased by Niya’s efforts to heal me this morning, but still very much there. We don’t yet have a plan to rescue Niya. Bren counseled sleep once we set a few possibilities in motion—meeting Alyrra, as well as Bren sending out through his networks for anyone who might work within the mages’ complex, because, as he put it, there are servants everywhere.
I pu
