Page 47 of Daghel

“The wyvern, where he is?” the council mage demands and perplexed look furrows Vorn’s brow.

“He is chained by trusted warriors, waiting for my signal to kill him so as not to alert Daghel to our intentions prematurely.”

The mage laughs bitterly. “You are a fool. This ‘Drisk’ is not who you have been led to believe he is. He is not just any wyvern, butthewyvern, the bonded one of Durethikal. He came for the male he is bonded to, and his purpose has now been realized. Do not imagine for a second you can kill him. Do you think that our ancestors did not try? Driskal is a nightmare unto himself, impossible to kill because of his bond with Durethikal. You will slay him and believe you succeeded, but then he will rise and destroy every fool he catches. We can enchant the chains of both males so that we do not repeat any mistakes. I will need to report this to the council and gather the mages. This experiment of purging your gathol has been successful. They will be pleased to hear these results despite having to deal with a larger problem. As for the queen?—"

“Have no fear, all accounts with her have already been settled,” Vorn assures him as I am dragged from the room.

Someone places a hood over my head—mostly due superstitious foolery I am certain—and it serves to disorient me as I am forcibly guided through the palace as we descend into the cool dampness of the lower cells carved into the cliffs below the palace floors, and far beneath the warmth of the rookeries. They are taking me into the dungeons. I can smell the cold, wet rot in the air and the icy cold that has formed icicles on some walls I brush against. Still, they lead me down farther into the depths until there is a clang of metal as a cell door creaks open and I amthrust inside. Cold metal clamps my wrist but the temperature of it does not bother me nor does the itch of magic from the enchantments they weave around my shackles and chain, and on the metal ring they draw the chain through, securing me to the wall. I am pretty certain that they are also enchanting the wall itself and my lips curl with amusement.

Smart males.

It is only when I am thoroughly bound that they pull off my hood. As I have been pushed to my knees, with hands bound above my head it forces me to look up at them briefly. They stare down at me warily and back away as I rise to my feet, shifting my arms to one side as I grin at them.

“What are you smiling about?” Vorn demands and takes a step forward with foolish bravado only to be stopped by Ajek’s hand firmly gripping his shoulder.

My grin widens and the council mage draws back and turns to face Vorn at the entrance of my cell. “I will leave immediately, but I must advise you to not permit anyone to linger around this cell. Durethikal is far too cunning. I would fear for any orc left within range of his influence.”

Vorn nods and follows him out so that they proceed down the corridor together. “These are the palace dungeons. There is no one else who is a guest here presently, so I will close them down entirely. Anyone caught entering without permission will find themselves becoming an additional guest down here while they await my judgment.”

All of my “admirers” move on, leaving only Ajek and one warrior in the cell with me. Ajek glowers at me, hatred burning in his eyes as I smile up at him.

“Let us see how long you smile. Strip him,” he barks to the warrior at his side.

The male’s reluctance to follow the order is laughable as it is understandable but he steps forward with wariness stampedacross his face as he quickly removes every bit of clothing from me before following Ajek out of the cell.

The cell down swings shut with a loud clang and the rusty sound of a bar locking in place brings a smile to my face. Ajek sneers at me from the other side of the bar and spits at me before turning away, leaving the warrior holding my clothing to follow after him.

I smirk as their voices echo down the corridor and lower myself comfortably to the icy floor. As if my nudity bothers me. There is straw covering the ground to supposedly provide some illusion of warmth, but it does not matter to be me. I wait there in the darkness within only the firelight of distant torches providing the dimmest illumination.

I am there, alone in the darkness—just like old times—but my eyes snap open when I catch a familiar scent and see something shift in the shadows. A little spy.

“Hello Linahna,” I rumble pleasantly, and she freezes outside of my cell.

“How did you know I was here, Daghel?” she whispers.

“Who else would it be?” I sigh, my eyes closing once more as I rotate my shoulders to relieve some of the tension from them.

“Are you okay? They have forbidden anyone to come into the cells. I was not sure I could even make it down here. I heard that you avenged my people,” she whispers, admiration in her voice.

“All is well,” I assure. “But do me a favor if you would.”

“Anything.”

My eyes snap open to fix on her in the darkness. “Bring me my mate.”

Chapter

Thirty-One

ANYA

Ijump, awakening on the common room floor at the sound of banging on the door. I blink blearily, my heart stutters a little with hope that it might be Daghel but I am more worried that it might not be. I push to my feet and head cautiously for the door. What if it is someone Vorn sent to kill me? That is a strong possibility as well.

“Anya, let me in,” Linahna calls through the door and she bangs on it again.

Relief swamps me and I run to the door as I try not to worry about the fact that it is not Daghel coming for me. Throwing open the locks, I pull open the door just as she shoves against it, making us both stumble back into the rookery. She barely seems to notice that she momentarily is off balance because she grabs for me, urgency bright in her eyes.

“Anya, Daghel is okay. He’s alive!”

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