I woke up in the dungeon of Whitestone Hall. Sitting up from a shabby
bedroll on the stone floor, I pushed my hair out of my face.
I scanned my surroundings. I'd been in my fair share of prisons, and this
one was surprisingly less dingy than the rest of the town. It looked like a
repurposed cellar under Whitestone Hall's greathouse. Barrels of draquila
sat in stacks in the shadows beyond my cell. The alcoholic beverage, made
from red agave and a few drops of bronze dragon blood, gave the cellar a
fresh spiced smell.
They'd left my pants and boots, but stripped my stolen guard's uniform.
The burlap shirt they'd put me in scratched at my skin, and I shivered through the thin cloth. I couldn't quite see my breath, but it was cold down
here.
Soot, what if they'd silvermarked me?
My fingers flew to the left side of my face, and I was relieved to feel only
smooth skin. I'd made it this long without them branding me, and I wasn't
interested in getting carved up with a silvermark now.
I rubbed at my temples, my head still sore from the Keeper's kick. The
blood was dry, so I must've been out for a while.
I needed to escape. If I got executed again, my dad was going to kill me.
I stood, blinking in the dim candlelight of the cellar. No one was out
there. There was a larger guy snoring in the cell next to me—definitely not
skinny enough to be Kai. The other cells were empty, which meant that Kai
must've escaped the city. Good.
Kai would have an escape plan for me, too. He'd probably know about
the Mage Hunters being here now, so he wouldn't go with a jailbreak. I was
probably going to have to wait for the execution.
Soot. Those kinds of escapes were always more risky, especially with
Mage Hunters around. I wondered if I could get out on my own.
I held my breath as footsteps stomped above me. I waited for them to
fade, then looked at the lock on my cell door.
It was now or never.
I crept toward the door and reached through the bars, feeling for the
keyhole on the other side.
It was easy to find, and it was big. And this town was cheap enough that
the lock wasn't silver, either.
I breathed in to focus as my eyes turned from dragonfire green to blazing
gold. Holding out my hand, my palm shone with ethereal light as I carefully formed a small starglass key.
The key slid easily into the lock, but it was way too small. I rattled it
around a little, getting a feel for the lock's interior.
I focused my breath, adding more starglass to the key until it felt right. I
turned the key, and the lock clicked open.
I was going to tell Kai it had worked on the first try.
Carefully, I lifted the lock from the door.
From across the room, deep in the shadows, I heard a slow clap.
Soot.
My heart sank as a grizzled old jailer leaned forward into the candlelight.
He casually trained his crossbow on me and smiled.
"Go ahead, half-born," he said, his thick eyebrows lowering. "Open the
door so I have an excuse."
I slowly replaced the lock and smiled back at him. "Just testing the
security here. I gotta say, you run a fine jail."
If only it'd been a girl jailer. Flirting my way out of prison had worked
once before.
Not today.
The jailer leaned back and laughed, resting the crossbow on his belly.
"You here to silvermark me?" I asked, trying to sound fearless despite the
growing pit in my stomach.
"Nah. Wouldn't waste the silver when they're just going to feed you to
the dragons in the morning," he said, the candlelight dancing in his eyes.
I sat back on my cot, crossing my arms over the scratchy burlap shirt.
"You sure gave the guard a good run there," the jailer said, a look of
amusement on his scarred face. "If not for my daughter snagging you with
her whip, you'd have made it."
"Well, at least someone around here is taking their training seriously," I
said, running my fingers through my long bangs. My hair band must've
fallen out during the action.
"We have to when rogue magi like you keep running around
unregistered."
"What can I say?" I shrugged. "Nothing like having a guard's seaxe at
your throat every once in a while. Keeps me on my toes."
"It's pronounced sax," the guard said, pronouncing the word with a short
'a' sound and shortening it to one syllable.
"I've heard it both ways," I said. "Point is, I'd rather run than be killed."
"Killed? Who's been feeding you lies like that? Turn yourself in. My
daughter just got back from the Mage Hunter Academy last week—says
they've finally perfected the magi cure."
"Right," I said with a bitter laugh. "You mean the 'cure' where the Black
Valkyrie drags you east, then kills you in cold blood?"
"Don't fall for that soot those Farseer-believers say. The Mage Hunters
are just trying to do what's best for Evgard."
"By exterminating us?"
The jailer sighed. "I guess that means you'd rather endure execution by
order of the Keeper over the chance to be cured of your magi curse."
"Yeah, if my choice is death or death, I guess I choose death."
The jailer glared. "At least when you die, the dragons who slaughter you
will be the last you draw to our town."
"You know the dragons attacking Whitestone Hall lately aren't my fault,
don't you?"
"Oh, I know. Unregistered magi are always 'just passing through,' right?"
"I guess they didn't show you what I stole from your Keeper, then."
The jailer furrowed his brow. I went on, looking him straight in the eye.
"She's been hoarding skystone. Three big crystals. That's what's been
drawing your dragons."
His face darkened.
The keepdoms were supposed to collect the skystone from skyfalls and
send it on to Evgard Capital. That way, High King Magnus could control
how it was used. Most keeps didn't dare defy the high king, but the
temptation to hoard a powerful, versatile resource like skystone was great.
Rumor even had it that skystone kept the legendary Farseer himself from
aging.
The jailer grunted, stroking his beard. "It's hard to trust a thief.
Especially one with eyes like yours. But I'll ask my girl if what you say is
true."
"And if it is?"
"Then we might need to replace our Keeper," he said, cracking his
knuckles.
"Yeah, I'd say Whitestone Hall would be much better off without selfish,
corrupt nobility in charge."
He gave me a sidelong glance. "Either way, you gave me a good laugh
seeing this lot of guards get all turned around after neglecting their training
for so long. You deserve some dignity."
He threw me a dragonleather cord for my hair. It had the crest of Drakfell
engraved on it, a dragon's fang.
"Thanks," I said, pulling the top half of my hair back from my face and
into a quick, messy fangknot. "Gotta look good for those dragons before
they tear me to pieces."
The jailer gave a sad chuckle. "Stars be with you."