It must only have been moments later. Telon had me under one arm, flying high above the burning city of Artis. My chest hurt, and my arm seemed to be burned. Tenlon's wings were spread majestically, and pounded at the air, taking us higher and higher into the sky.

My dagger was still in my hands.

I thanked the gods for minor miracles, such as me still having my dagger, and for Tenlon's not noticing that I had woken up, and for him not binding my arms. I took my dagger, and dug it into his arm. He gave a horrible crow-like sound that may have been a scream, and dropped me.

I wondered if Janace had escaped, and if he would have me buried.

When I came to, I was in a room with dark, shabby wooden walls. The window next to the bed in which I lay gave me a view of the unmistakable sculpted rooftops of Rawlin, inhabited by real birds and marble dragons, lions and griffins. I heard someone in the room, but didn't wish to move my head to look as neck felt like iron. I tried to move anyway, but doing so was agony.

“Don't move.” A voice said. I turned from the window, my eyes blurry from the light. A figure stood on the other side of the bed. She had long, light blonde hair, and a cloak on.

“...Cara..?”

She didn't hear me. “You have no idea how lucky you are to be alive right now.” The figure said. “It seems a hobby of yours to be harmed in flames”

“...How...Are you alive...”

“What, you didn't think I could survive after you played your little games, did you?!” The venom in her voice was clear. “I was a fool to trust you.”

“It was my job.” I said. “You should know that.”

“I do. That's why you're still alive now. You're going to help me get vengeance for my father.”

I sat up slowly, cringing at the various pains in my neck and back. “Father?'

My eyes adjusted to the light in the room. It wasn't Cara who was there. Of course it wasn't, she had died long ago, I saw her grave. Christen was there.

I lay back with a thump on the bed. “Why are you here?” I asked with a moan.

“Saving your life, though you don't deserve it.”

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I ignored her and tried to piece together what had happened. I remembered falling. Telon had me, but I got away, I fell. That was stupid, but I did get away didn't I? Artis burning, Foster's limp and bloody form.

“Where did you find me?” I asked finally.

“On the ground, covered in blood. Your horses were nearby, and I found your caravan as well. I needed that to bring you here. Artis was destroyed, so I guess you had something to do with that. How much were you paid to take down an entire village?

“I wasn't. I was there for entirely non-professional reasons. Someone else just happened to destroy it while I was there.”

“Yes, I believe you entirely.” She sniped. “You were covered in bruises and blood, you were weak, hallucinating, muttering...”

“And you brought me here. Why?”

“Best apothecary in the kingdom thankfully, he knew a doctor that would come here and take care of you, and who knew how to keep this mouth shut. I thought this would be the best place to have you healed.”

I groaned. “Why are you here and not in Primis, mourning the death of your family?”

She glared at me. “I told you I wanted to get out, I didn't I?” She looked away suddenly, and I was afraid she would cry again. “I told you I wanted to leave that place. What reason did I have to stay there anymore? I didn't even have an inheritance, the villagers tore up my father house after his funeral, they despised me.”

“Did they now...Where's my dagger?” I looked around, and saw a pile of my things in the corner of the room. I got up and walked naked across the room to get to my things. Christen blushed and turned away, but her anger was still clear and strong in her voice.

“Yes, they did. I couldn't take the head of my father's house if I was unmarried. However, I could were I a widow. They thought it was all a plot. I had to run away!”

“Interesting...” I muttered. I dressed quickly, and tied my dagger to my belt. “ Where are my gloves?”

Christen turned to a table and threw a pair of leather gloves at me. I caught them and slid them on.

“Those are some bad scars on your hand.”

I paused and looked at my right hand. An interesting pattern of criss-crossed scars ran around it. I shrugged.

“Happened when I was young. So, you ran away, and you came looking for me? For revenge? You did a poor job of it, you let me wake up, and now I have my weapons, so-”

“I was going to kill you...” she said. “But then I asked myself: why bother? You didn't have a personal reason to kill my father, someone else did and and I would never know who it was if I didn't have your help. And you're no help if you're dead...so.”

I slung my cloak over my shoulders. Those potions from the apothecary did work, though my head felt dizzy, and my limbs stiff. I needed a drink, and I needed my cloak repaired: mine was singed.

“So, you saved my life so I might tell you who paid me to take your father's?”

“And my husband's.”

“You're father paid me to do that. He's already dead. Where's my caravan?”

“Outside. I hid it in an alley.”

“And my horses?”

“This inn had a stable. They are there.”

I nodded. “Good. I need to go to my caravan. Thank the gods it's alright, my life is in that thing. Then, I intend to drink. You can come, if you wish, but don't refer to me as Stiri after we leave this room. I happen to be a wanted man.” In more ways than one really. I was sentenced to death by law. Kos also wanted me, and judging by the help he had with the kings guards, I assumed that he had powerful allies