Twenty-Seven
He drags me up to a tower. I know because the winding staircase seems to go on forever and ever. At the top of the stairs, before I can get a good look at what’s up here, he tries to take the sword from me.
“Sorry, but that’s not happening,” I tell him.
“Excuse me? Do you really think I’m going to let you into Lord Draven’s presence with—”
“Leave it,” a familiar voice commands. “She can’t use it on me.”
With a final glare in my direction, the guard heads back down the stairs. I take a deep breath before turning. The round, stone room is bare except for an ice-white glow-bug sitting in each narrow window and several elaborate tapestries hanging on the wall. I can’t imagine them being Nate’s style; they must have been here before he arrived. A shadow moves in the rafters ab
