Red heard the quiet pop as Cydric munched on the small fruit and collapsed casually onto the chair. He glanced at Red. “You’re unsure whether or not to trust him,” he said equally casually as he flicked his gaze toward where Aerim had disappeared into the halls.

A crossbeam secured the barrier keeping Trainine in her cell, and when she pressed her forehead against it, the cool metal calmed her headache, at least momentarily.

“Hello, Ms. Willson I’m–” I could practically hear the polite introduction turn into frustration as the doctor cut himself off. “You,” he finished instead dropping his tablet to his side as he looked at me.

Darkel strode down Gerdinthrall’s corridor ignoring the leers cast at him through each cell door’s narrow, slotted opening. Paying them heed did him no good. Darkel had caused the entire plane anxiety. They were annoyances.

“He arrested the nurse?” The quiet voice sounded loud in the still hallway. Even still, Arren couldn’t place the speaker in the eerily calm, yet packed hallway. The movement of speaking had been hidden.

Dranalin tapped one hand against the other as she paced. In her mind, she heard the cries of the crowd beyond the keep. She knew the sound could not breach the walls, but she remembered from when she had hauled Darkel, Lord of the Frost, into the keep.

Meerthyn stood before her mentor’s desk watching the two jars laid upon it. One held his light. The other hers.