Battle Ground, Indiana

Claire was vaguely aware of estranged voices in her mind. Arguing. She wished they would shut up the hell up as she did her best to ignore them. Her body shook with sobs. She was draped over Cyrus. Nothing mattered anymore. She was numb to it.

Cyrus was dead, and it was all her fault. Cyrus warned her this would happen. He told her that his death was certain. Each warning was brushed aside and discarded. She refused to believe it before, and now she had no choice.

There were things she could have done differently, and maybe it would have saved him. Maybe they could have gone somewhere safer together—somewhere the Vodar wouldn't have found them. Maybe she should have insisted he go to the hospital and done everything in her power to get him there. She shouldn't have waited so long before shooting the Vodar. If she'd killed them faster. If....

Guilt settled into the pit of her stomach, making her sick. She was to blame for this. Cyrus was her responsibility, her patient, and she had failed him. "All those days sitting around chatting," she gasped between sobs. "I was so stupid! I wasted all your time with my stupid fantasies."

She lifted her head to look at his face, disgusted by what the poison had done to him. "I'm so sorry. So sorry." She collapsed across his chest again. "Please forgive me..."

You are not to blame, said a voice of reason.

"But I am! This is all my fault."

There were other voices too. Voices in her mind. She heard them just as clearly as if they stood beside her on the lawn. "Cyrus is there, Reyr!" said one. "He's dead."

She sat up and looked around, wiping her eyes with the backs of her bloodied hands. "Who is that beside him? His killer?"

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She was being watched. Someone could see her, but she could not see them. Her eyes darted along the cornfield.

"Gods above! It's a female! Probably an evil mage. Kill her!"

She found nothing—no one.

"When we we land, take her. Do not let her escape. Something isn't right."

Land? She tensed. Her gaze darted to the sky. She gasped, blinking. Three giant dragons were diving towards her, wings tucked to their bodies. Her mouth fell open. Their bodies morphed into men moments later. In an instant, harsh hands gripped her, dragging her up and away from Cyrus.

"No!" she screamed, fighting, trying to reach for him.

She was forced to her feet. The sharp edge of a blade met her throat in warning. She froze, the fight going out of her.

One of the Drengr fell to his knees, hands fluttering over Cyrus with care, examining his body. "No! It cannot be!" His body shook with sobs. Another Drengr stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She couldn't see their faces.

These were his friends, she realized, and they were too late.

The one kneeling had golden hair, layers of thick locks that fell to the nape of his neck. The one standing beside him had brown hair with auburn highlights. She wasn't sure about the one behind her.

More tears fell down her cheeks. Cyrus believed himself forgotten. He thought no one would come for him, but they had. They were here. Little good it did!

Her body flushed with heat. "This is all your fault," she hissed, ignoring the blade at her throat. She struggled against the iron grip holding her. It was easy to place blame on someone else, and she was eager for it. "You're too late. Too late to save him. He's dead because you couldn't get here faster."

"She dares to speak?!" said a voice in her mind. She jumped at the sound of it, certain that it hadn't been spoken aloud.

"So it would seem," another answered.

"We must find out what she knows. Then kill her."

She blinked. The voices belonged to the Drengr. What was more, they believed their conversation was secret—that she couldn't hear them. But why? Why could she hear them?

"Her defiance is the mark of a killer. That much is obvious."

The golden-haired Drengr stood and faced her. His pained eyes turned hard. "I would be careful with your words, if I were you. Your circumstances paint you a murderer, so watch your tongue."

"Reyr, let me kill her and be done with it!" The blade pressed more firmly against her neck.

"Not yet, Koldis. Let me speak with her."

"She deserves to die for what she has done!" Koldis growled. "How can you show her leniency?"

"If she is his killer, the king should be the one to do it. That honor belongs to him. Do you disagree?"

The blade's pressure lessened. "Yes. You...you're right. Forgive my rashness."

"It is forgiven. We are all troubled by this."

She opened and closed her mouth, not quite believing. Why did she hear them? Was there something...something wrong with her?

"Look, I know this looks suspicious," she said, managing to find her voice. "But I didn't kill him. I...I tried to save him." The last bit came out as another sob.

Reyr gave her a stony expression. He was built just like Cyrus. They all were. With large muscular frames that towered over her. It was their deadly expressions that frightened her the most.

"If you did not kill him," said the one beside Reyr, "then what of this?" He bent down and picked up the Vodar sword in the grass. "Is this the weapon you used?"

"I—no! It's not mine. I swear."

"Is that so? Jovari—" Reyr held out his hand to examine the weapon.

If ever there was a time to tell them everything, it was now. They needed to know about the Vodar, about the attack, about the dangers Dragonwall faced. They needed to know about Kane and the Dragon Stones.

"Look—" She prepared an explanation, but nothing else came out. Her jaw snapped closed. She scowled and tried again, this time pushing harder. Croak. Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment and her eyes widened. What was happening? Where was her voice?

"Where did you get this sword?" Reyr asked.

"I didn't—I told you! It's not mine. It came from...from..." Again she lost her voice. What the hell was going on?

Her eyes widened. It was as though she was under a spell, rendered speechless. The words she'd spoken to Cyrus—the Promise.

"It's not mine..." she whispered, defeated.

"Then whose is it?" Reyr asked.

"She's lying!" The blade at her throat pressed in. She couldn't see Koldis behind her, but she recognized his telepathic voice now.

"I'm not lying!" she cried. "I...I promise."

"Be that as it may, no one else is here to claim this sword."

"Reyr, look at his skin," said Jovari. "He's been...poisoned."

"I know." Reyr lifted the sword to his nose and sniffed. "It's the blade, Jovari. The work of dark magic."

Good lord! This was becoming a nightmare. She couldn't explain herself. They really thought she was guilty. And they had a weapon to prove it.

"I think it's high time to tell us everything," Koldis snarled in her ear.

"I didn't kill him!" she cried, trying to struggle against him. "You must believe me. It was the...the..." Her lips mouthed the word Vodar, but again, she was forced into silence.

"Speak up, girl. I cannot hear you," he hissed, his mouth nearly touching her ear.

"I'm trying!" she insisted. Tears of frustration flowed down her cheeks.

You made a promise, said a logical voice in her mind. The magic binds you to it.

"I—I'm not allowed to say." She sniffed. "I promised Cyrus that I would take this matter to the king—to your king."

"What do you mean?" Reyr's amber eyes pierced hers. Amber, with flecks of gold around their edges. Beautiful.

"I made an Unbreakable Promise," she explained, trying to keep her voice steady. "I am bound to it—to Cyrus. I cannot tell you what happened here. I must speak with your king."

She realized how unfair Cyrus had been. It wasn't a mere promise she had made. When he said Unbreakable Promise, he meant unbreakable in every sense of the word. Magic bound her to it. There would be no backing out, no running away. She was a prisoner.

"An Unbreakable Promise?" Reyr opened and closed his mouth. "You cannot be serious."

"She lies, again!" said Koldis. "Can you not see?"

"You must believe me!" Her eyebrows were tightly drawn. A headache throbbed at her temples. "I promised him. I didn't do this—I didn't kill him. I cared about him. I took care of him. You must believe me! You're all in great—" Her breath whooshed out from her lungs. She was going to say danger, but even that word was against the terms of her promise. She went limp in Koldis's arms. Utterly defeated. There was nothing her promise permitted her to say that would erase her appearance of guilt.

"The Unbreakable Promise is rare magic." Reyr set the Vodar's sword on the ground and crossed his arms, still watching her. Perhaps trying to determine what to do with her. "For more reasons than one, I find it difficult to believe Cyrus would resort to such measures."

"He didn't think you were coming."

"Well that is nonsensical, is it not?" Jovari also crossed his arms, eyeing her. "Of course we would come for him. He should have known that."

"He didn't..." She keenly recalled Cyrus's sadness when he believed himself forgotten.

Reyr ran a hand through his hair. "This matter is out of my hands. I think it is best if we let the king decide her fate."

Both Jovari and Koldis erupted into objections against Reyr's suggestion.

"Silence! Both of you," Reyr hissed. "We have flown a vast distance to get here, only to fail. I think it is time we rest for the evening. The sun is quickly setting. Our journey can wait one night."

"You truly wish to bring her back with us?" Jovari sounded surprised, even outraged.

"This is madness, Reyr. Madness. Kill her. Be done with it."

"What choice do I have, Koldis?" Reyr asked. She followed the telepathic conversation, pretending to hear nothing.

"She hides too much from us, and I do not like it. I am sure the king will understand our decision in time. I need only slip my sword. Her blood will drain before she realizes what I've done. It will be less to carry—less to worry about."

"Come now Koldis, calm your wrath. Look at the poor girl. She's distraught. She's crying. She certainly hasn't fought back with any magic since our arrival. If she were a great mage, she would have already tried. I am beginning to find it hard to believe her capable of besting Cyrus...of anything, really." That stung. "Think about it. Look at her."

Her breathing calmed. Reyr was defending her. For all the harshness he had shown, he was clearly the most reasonable one in the group.

"I do not like it," Koldis said, reluctant. "But I trust your judgement. You are in charge, after all. I should not question you."

Reyr gave a brief nod. He said for all to hear, "We will rest here for the night and begin our journey in the morning." He looked straight at her. "You are coming with us."

She gave him the barest nod, but relief washed over her. This was exactly what she needed. Perhaps their distrust was a blessing in disguise. Had they believed her innocent, they would have simply departed with Cyrus. Now they would take her with them.

Her promise required her to travel into Dragonwall. Finding it alone would be impossible. She had no idea where the Gate was. These Drengr would show her the way—they would take her exactly where she needed to go. If that required feigning guilt, then so be it.

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