The Nail Ward, as they called it, was as miserable as it looked from the outside. The thousands of needles covering the floor and walls made it impossible to relax, and sleep was terribly out of the question.
So Kerrick stood in the corner waiting, patiently, for the sunrise.
“I don’t have a reason to tell you anything. I can wait here, whether you kill me or not, you won’t make it out of here alive.”
Emry rounded the room, giving the dead soldier a wide berth. The scent of fresh blood intermingled with that of the rot and decay heaved her stomach on itself.
Smoke still billowed from the depths of Icehold, a sight she admired for a moment, the faces of the terrified guards still fresh in her memory.
The early morning of Godspine felt no different to her than any other day, but something within her stirred. Rheysan’s words bounded through her in consideration of the voice inside. If Farrakha was a dragon, what did she want with Sekehenna, or Emry, for that matter?
Emry gripped the knife in her hand. Unable to trust her vision in the darkness, she searched with her hearing. Listening for the sound of footsteps or voices intermingled with the cacophony of trumpet blasts and shouting in the distance. Wherever the guards were, they were not searching in the right place.
All around their bodies scattered pools of collecting water, the edges of the hole in the wall still frozen. In the center of the carnage stood a woman. Her skin was tan, her hair draped behind her, nearly touching the top of her thighs. Her body was covered with splattered blood and her eyes…
“I should have both of you taken to whips for what you’ve done.” He let out a long sigh and waited for either of them to speak up.
They didn’t.
“Oh, good hunter.”
It was a woman’s voice, young but not a child. In her early adulthood, she spoke as if to entice him. The lilt in her voice and the breath between her words squirmed within his ear.
“It is an honor, to have you here.”
“…Withdrawing her hand, she glanced at the place she’d just touched and saw through the thin sliver of light a handful of tiny pins, wedged into the floor with mortar. The glinting of their metal barbs reflected the length of the room as far as the light touched them.”
Dhama fought a grin, but couldn’t help it. They both broke out into a short fit of laughter before Dhama was able to collect herself.
“Your allure aside, what I said last night still holds true. I am worried for you, Khenna. We need you, and we don’t want to lose you. I am here to offer an alternative.”
The Grimoire of Finality 