Iris. Iris. Wake up. Iris.

Iris was cold. So cold. She couldn't feel anything, not even her own body. All that existed was the cold, and the voices whispering in her head. Multiple voices. Voices she didn't know, some with strange accents, some speaking in languages she didn't know, but, somehow, she knew they were all saying the same thing.

Wake up. Iris. Iris.

The whispering was getting louder. It was like the voices were crowding in, closer and closer, blocking out the voices she heard from outside of herself.

"I don't think she's alive."

She couldn't quite make out who was saying that. It was hard to hear over the whispering in her head.

Iris. Wake up. Iris. Iris.

"Does she even have a pulse?"

Wake up. Wake up. Iris. Wake up.

"Yeah, it's there, but it's faint. We need to get her inside."

Iris. Iris. Wake up. Iris. Iris. Iris!

"Char, Rath, you finally decided to show up. What the - is that a human?"

Iris. Iris. Iris.

The whispers were getting louder, drowning out the sudden shouting and cursing on the outside. It was unrelenting. She wanted to shut it all out, stop the noise, allow the cold to pull her down into the darkness where it was quiet. But the voices wouldn't let her. The whispers were shouting.

Wake up! Wake up! Iris, wake up!

She gasped for air, and suddenly she could feel, and she was shivering uncontrollably. The cold had soaked through to her bones. Thousands of ice cold, stinging needles pricked her skin as warmth touched her. The arms under her back and her knees, the chest pressed against her cheek, they burned like fire. But there was a comfortable, soothing warmth, too. She held it in her right hand. It touched her heart, her fingertips, gently flowing out to the rest of her body.

"Char, drop her! The amulet is glowing!" Rath exclaimed, panicked.

"She's using it on herself, not me," Char's steady voice replied, rumbling in her ear. "Look, I'll explain everything - after she's taken care of."

"And she's a mage? Get her out of here!" the unknown voice shouted.

"She's only used her magic to protect or heal. It's never destructive," Char said calmly. "Where do you want her?"

"I don't want her," the unknown man said vehemently. "If all this mess has been because your head was turned by a pretty face-"

"That's not what's going on here," Rath interjected. "I had my suspicions when he first told me about her, too, but after seeing how he handled her last night, I can say without a doubt that she's just a prisoner, nothing more."

"Where do you want her?" Char repeated. "The sooner I deal with her, the sooner you'll have your explanation."

"And that explanation better be darn good. Srot may die because you two decided to go off script again. Thrak, take her."

"No way," another unknown voice said nervously. "I'm not touching a human mage."

"Wait, Srot's injuries were minor," Rath interjected. "Just some scratches between his scales from a few lucky arrows."

"Magic-tipped arrows," the other man said bitingly.

"Just tell me where you want her," Char said exasperatedly.

Somebody groaned irritably. "High security cell. Thrak, go with him and make sure he doesn't pull anything stupid. Alert the mage on duty. Rath, you start talking. And I'm warning you both, if this isn't good, I'm bringing you both up on charges of insubordination. And if Srot dies," the leader's voice dropped dangerously low, "I'm pushing for the death penalty for Char."

"Fine," Char said coolly. He started walking, but stopped when Iris interrupted him. Or, rather, her voice interrupted him.

"I c-c-can h-h-heal h-h-him."

She felt her lips and tongue move. She heard her voice. But the words weren't hers, and she didn't know where they came from or why she said them. Her frozen mind was struggling to keep up with the argument flying around her. She was still shivering violently, although the stinging, burning sensation was gradually being chased away by the soothing warmth that continued to flow through her fingers.

"Like I'll trust a human mage. Get her out of my sight."

Char didn't reply. He just started walking again. The leader started questioning Rath, their words fading into the background, and Iris felt Char's tension from every point of contact with his body. She was trying to make sense of these additional pieces of the puzzle, but it was hard to match them with the other pieces when she was shaking so hard, inside and out. The surrounding air was getting colder.

Iris. Iris. Iris.

She moaned and shook her head, trying to dislodge the returning whispers. Her fingers wouldn't release the amulet.

"What's she doing?" Thrak asked, his voice unsteady.

"Healing herself," Char replied.

"You really think she's valuable enough to risk your life?" Thrak asked.

"I wouldn't have brought her here if I didn't. What's going on with Srot?"

"Well, he seemed fine at first, but the scratches are getting wider and deeper, and he didn't wake up yesterday morning." Thrak paused for a moment, groaning as stone scraped against stone. "He's still unconscious."

"Get another blanket," Char said, laying Iris on a cold cot.

"Why?"

"The sooner she warms up, the sooner she becomes useful."

"If you say so," Thrak muttered, and then his footsteps faded away.

Char tucked a blanket around Iris, and she felt his breath on her ear as he leaned in close. "Keep your mouth shut," he said, dropping his voice to a near whisper. "Don't volunteer anything. Got it?"

She nodded, and then his breath was gone.

"Here," Thrak said. "The mage is gone. Must be tending to Srot."

The weight of a folded blanket landed on top of Iris. It disappeared as quickly as it came, and then it was back, unfolded and draped across her.

"I'll see him after I get this settled with Kelnor," Char said, his voice hard and cold. "Let's go."

Their footsteps retreated. Stone grated against stone, and silence fell. Iris rolled onto her side and curled up in a ball, pulling the blankets tighter around her. The shivering was starting to subside, but the air on her cheeks was cooler here than where she first woke up. There were goosebumps on her arms.

Iris, you can heal him.

"Shut up," she muttered. The whispers moved away, but now she couldn't make out any words. At least they were quieter, off in the distance, just a backdrop to her thoughts. Her mind was starting to process what was going on. Char had been protecting her all along, even risking his own life to save hers. His behavior in front of his brother and the other dragons was meant to keep her safe. His kiss was real, although she still didn't know how to feel about it. He clearly was interested in her, and while she appreciated what he'd done for her, she didn't share that interest. She didn't want him to die because of her, though.

Too many people were dying lately.

She still didn't know what happened to Father John and the orphans. It didn't sound like the whole town burned, but there had to be some measure of destruction from that battle. She had seen the king's mage carelessly deflect the dragon's fire in all directions, without any concern for where the flames landed. If he did that the entire battle, he probably caused more damage than the dragons did.

Char said they were trying to minimize damage. The dragons cared more for her hometown than the king's mage.

She released the amulet. Her right hand was hot, but not uncomfortably so. The amulet must have kept her alive during that flight, and it brought her back from the brink of hypothermia. The whispers wouldn't let her give in to the cold.

Who were they?

It seemed a long time before stone scraped across stone again. She sat up and turned toward the door, clutching the blankets tightly around her. The dungeon cell was small, big enough only for the cot and a toilet. There wasn't enough floor space for more than two people, and they would have to crowd quite close to fit. But only one person stepped through the open doorway. He looked thin and frail, his black robe hanging from his gaunt shoulders, his long, limp gray hair blending with his long gray beard. This was what she expected the king's mage to look like. There was an uncanny similarity between him and this dragon, though. This man's golden eyes were hard and frightening. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach, getting heavier as his eyes dropped from her face to the amulet resting on her chest.

"Your name is Iris, correct?"

She blinked in surprise. His voice was light and friendly, a direct contrast to his expression.

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"And you are a mage?"

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"No? But I've heard multiple reports of you using magic," he said, amused. "And that amulet is clearly magical."

Don't volunteer anything.

Char's words, but the whispers were repeating them, over and over and over.

"I don't know what's going on," she said truthfully.

"Hm." The mage walked toward her, his steps purposeful and strong, and in a moment he was standing over her with the amulet in his fingers. "Where did you get this?"

She swallowed nervously. "It was a gift."

His golden eyes flicked to her face. "From?"

"From a...friend."

He laughed and dropped the amulet. "You are afraid. Understandably so. But I can assure you that no harm will come to you so long as you cooperate."

"And what does that mean?" she asked nervously.

"For the moment, it means you will make no attempt to use any magic." He reached into his robe and produced a small cloth bag and a pair of cloth gloves. "Put these on," he said, handing her the gloves. "And this will take care of the amulet," he continued, picking it up again and tying the bag over the glass stone.

Iris pulled the gloves on, wondering how the simple cloth would stop any magic, but then the mage's golden eyes began to glow. Terror gripped her, and she sat perfectly still, afraid even to breathe. The simple brown cloth of the gloves melded to her skin, turning the same gold as the mage's eyes, and she knew without looking that the bag around the amulet was doing the same. His eyes stopped glowing, and he dropped the amulet, stepping back with a deep, shaky breath.

"Are you hungry?" he asked cheerfully, perspiration beading on his forehead.

She shook her head.

"You need your strength, young lady. That amulet of yours is quite valuable, which means you are, too."

He turned and left, grunting as he pushed the stone door shut. Iris let out her breath and fell back onto the cot. The whispers hadn't stopped, but they were quieter, and she couldn't understand them anymore. She pulled the blankets up over her again and closed her eyes.

This nightmare just wouldn't stop.