"Welcome, daughters of Danic, to your new home." The Right Hand bowed deeply before Elba and the other women he'd corralled into one of Kel Dracon's many well guarded courtyards. The air was icy sharp, several knees knocking together as another gust of wind blew powdered snow over their heads.

How Elba wished for a blanket right about now, or a coat, or Libro's warm body to clutch onto. The man was a damn furnace, and here she was freezing to death while he was off searching for her. The nerve of the man.

"As you can see by the walls surrounding you and the guards I have patrolling them, there is no chance for escape. No one is coming to rescue you, so you may as well start forgetting about the outside world all together." The Right Hand paused for effect, eyeing the crowd with his death mask of a stare. "Because you're never getting out of this alive."

A few whimpers rippled through the crowd, a few curses, a few prayers. Elba said nothing. She had no time for tears, or begging, or for imperceptive blessings that may or may not happen. She needed to think, needed to figure how she was going to survive this frigid pit with her sanity, and child, intact.

"Some of you, however," the Right Hand continued, its lip curling by the slightest margin. "May prove useful to me. In which case, your life expectancy may temporarily increase. And all this can be made possible by a simple test given by my associate here." He gestured at the hooded figure beside him, standing stock still, face hidden in the shadows of their cowl.

"Who knows, there may even be a chance of the King's forgiveness, if one's service to the crown is deemed acceptable."

"Never!" A woman broke from the crowd at a dead sprint towards the Right Hand, shackles clattering loose around her forearms. There was something in her hand, a jagged piece of metal.

Elba remembered her from the week-long march. She was one of the defiant ones, constantly picking at her restraints when she thought no one was looking. Guess she'd finally figured it out.

She rushed past two Chosen frozen in their tracks, aiming to spear the Right Hand clean through. She nearly made it. He lunged at her when she was in arm's reach, batting her flimsy weapon aside before grabbing her by the throat.

The woman barely made a sound, only a little squeak as she was plucked from the earth like a rodent, feet dangling as she struggled in vain to get free. She landed a few solid kicks against the Right Hand's breastplate, but a simple tightening of his grip made her go limp.

"Let's see if you qualify." The Right Hand looked down at the robed woman beside him. She stared back up, a veil hiding her eyes. Only a scowl and a single lock of brown hair tarnished with silver could be seen poking through.

"Go on then," the Right Hand commanded. "Administer the test."

The hooded woman's frown deepened as she stepped towards the dangling girl and held a hand out. The would-be assassin tried to squirm away, but her efforts were meaningless compared to the mountain pinning her in place.

An uncomfortable silence dragged itself over the yard as Elba watched on with bated breath, wondering what the test even was, and what it meant for the girl if she passed.

A glint in the hooded woman's other hand caught Elba's attention then. There was something dangling in her grasp, a tiny round charm looped through with a golden chain, spinning round and round in the air, a single rune carved over its surface.

Her nose twitched at the sight of it.

Without ceremony, the hooded woman shook her head.

"A shame," The Right Hand said. And without equal ceremony, he snapped his captive's neck.

There were more than a few whimpers and prayers amongst the crowd this time. Several fell to their knees shrieking in hysterics. Most stood there frozen, staring dead eyed at the girl's corpse. More than likely they were all thinking the same thing. That this was some kind of nightmare, some kind of trick, and that they'd all wake up and realize everything was back to the way it was.

But it wasn't, and it never would be. Elba knew this. Knew it like the back of her hand. All she could do was survive it. So she stood there as calmly as she could, despite her heart thumping and her guts squirming and her horrible need to piss, and she waited for her turn.

The Right Hand guided the hooded woman through the crowd, testing each and every prisoner down the line. One by one.

Some passed.

A lot of them failed.

It's terrible how easily people get bored. During the first hour, Elba watched in stark horror as the hooded woman would shake her head no, and the prisoners would start to beg, or run, or somehow fight back, and each and every time the result was the same.

The Right Hand would kill them.

When the hooded woman shook her head yes, however, the prisoners would tremble and weep and thank their lucky stars as they were whisked away towards a door in the eastern wall, never to be seen again.

By the second hour, it had all become sickeningly routine. The air became stagnant with the repetitive sounds of weeping, the snapping of bone, the opening and closing of doors, an endless loop that made Elba feel like she was in one of those hells Byzantian priests are always going on about. The ones that slowly torture you with some ironic twist based on how evil you were.

And then came the point of no return. The moment the hooded woman started down Elba's row and the reality of it all was slowly coming to a head. Her fate was going to be decided by a simple yes or no answer to a question she didn't even know was being asked. All her life's accomplishments, all of her failures, all of her experiences and dreams meant nothing now. The thought alone made the muscles in her legs turn to water, but she stood up straight regardless. If she was going to die, she would do it without fear.

"Look me in the eyes, girl." The hooded woman's voice was like ice in Elba's veins, chilling her to the core. Any defiance was met with an unexplainable need to obey, cold tendrils forcing her to look up.

The hooded woman's gaze was like that of a deep, vast ocean. Dark lines cut through the edges of her lips, the cleft of her cheeks, little crow's feet dancing in the corners of her eyes, skin still surprisingly sun kissed despite the sunless sky. As if she were as much a foreigner in Danic as Elba was.

It took a moment for her to realize it, and by then the hooded woman had figured it out as well. Both of their eyes went very wide as they realized they knew each other.

Staring Elba full in the face was Astrid, Brand's mother. To say she was surprised to find her here would have been a vast understatement. Here Brand was galivanting off to who knew where, with a dangerous witch mind you, and here she'd gone and stumbled upon her like a bump on the road.

Lucky her.

And then Elba remembered Tergrid. The girl was a few paces down the line, staring at the ground with her hands gripped tight. She guided Astrid with her eyes towards the girl, somehow hoping the woman might understand her message. Save her. Save her if you value anything the Vangen ever did for you.

"Well," the Right Hand asked. "What is your answer? It's not like you to be this indecisive."

Without a word, Astrid nodded her head and moved on to the next prisoner.

Elba was quickly snatched up from the crowd by two burly Chosen, unhooking her from the chains and guiding her towards the door. She didn't put up much of a fight, just enough to make it look good. They dragged her down an endless set of hallways, quiet as the grave, the interior a mix between crumbling ruins and a glacial prison. She expected to be carted down towards a dungeon at any moment.

To her surprise however, they stopped at a coiling flight of stairs going up.

"Are you able to walk up the steps without assistance?" One of the Chosen asked, his voice like a boot being dragged through dry gravel.

"I'd like to bloody walk out the door!" Elba snapped back at him. She desperately wanted to punch him, give his nose a good kiss with her forehead even, but she recalled the last time she tried stabbing one of the withered pricks and remembering nearly losing her sword over it. Like she'd stabbed a damn tree. Didn't reckon headbutting one would do much good either.

"Feisty, this one is." One of the Chosen chuckled. "Bet we'll get a real fighter out of her."

"A real what?" She demanded, but by then they were already hauling her up the steps, her demands met with bitter silence.

Minute by minute passed away in aching silence as Elba continued to ascend, the muscles in her legs cramping in protest after their long, treacherous march through the Danic countryside. Who knows, maybe they were going to push her off once they reached the top. Maybe she'd won special rights to meet the ground in a macabre display of hubris, or some such shit. At least her legs would stop aching.

Her nausea, however, had kept up with her. It came back up in a rolling wretch that stung the back of her throat, making her gag. Her two guards noticed immediately, guided her to the railing, surprisingly delicate for such monstrous looking creatures.

"I always hate this part." One of the Chosen grumbled.

"Least you aren't getting puked on," the other Chosen said. It glanced over at Elba. "Go ahead and let it out if you need to. The servants will clean it up."

"How very kind," Elba said, and without reassurance promptly upchucked the last of the cabbage soup she'd eaten before entering this damned, frigid dungeon. She wiped her mouth, stood up straight, putting on the air of a refined lady. "Thank you. I am ready to go now."

The two Chosen eyed one another and continued their ascent with her.

"This is where you will be staying for the remainder of your time in Kel Dracon." One of the Chosen unlocked a heavy, iron barred door with a rattling of keys, hinges groaning in protest as he pushed it open.

Elba closed her eyes as she was guided inside, expecting the worst things imaginable. A wood board cot, a pile of straw, or worse, nothing at all. Maybe a bucket if she was lucky, a dirty corner if she wasn't. Hopefully a rat she could befriend. She'd even settle for a roach, if nothing else.

The door slammed shut behind her, the sound of the lock clicking shut. Elba peeked one eye open. Instead of straw or a stone floor, there was a lavish carpet of dark sheep's wool tickling at her toes. She looked around. Instead of grimy walls and barred windows there were tapestries and stained glass. Instead of rats and roaches, she had books and needlework to keep her company

Instead of a desolate prison, they had given her a luxurious room. A mattress stuffed with goose down and draped with layers upon layers of blankets had been pushed over to one corner, a chair and desk pressed against the other with vellum, feather and ink at the ready. A table had been set aside with a small platter of food for her to eat, with a jug of what looked to be watered down wine.

But what caught her attention most of all was the little device in the center of the room. It was a simple iron plinth with a cage on top. A blazing white rock hissed and spat inside, throwing off ribbons of heat that filled the room with a delicious warmth.

It took Elba a while to realize it. She'd been cold for so long, she'd forgotten what true warmth had felt like. She knelt down, cupping her hands over the rock, her vision filling up with dazzling stars as she tried to study it. It was like staring into the very sun itself.

There was a rattle of keys and the whining of hinges. Elba stood up, expecting the guards had come back to finally finish the job.

"Sorry", she imagined them saying, "but your time in the nice room is over now. Time for you to die."

Nothing happened. Elba turned around. Standing before her was Astrid instead, door shut tight, keys clutched in one hand, looking ready to strangle Elba and trying her hardest not to.

"What in Aurora's farking name are you doing here?" Astrid hissed.

***