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He tilted his head, gaze touching meaningfully on the torq again, before he met Ragnar’s stare, and held it. “Sometimes, a man realizes that certain types of captivity are well worth it.”

“Why would you consider it worthwhile?” Amelia asked, recapturing his attention.

He hesitated, fingers drumming on his water cup. Then he said, “There is…a young woman.”

“Ohgods,” Reginald groaned. “Please do not tell me this is alovestory.”

The prisoner didn’t respond. To Amelia, he said, “We met when we were ten. She worked for the tailor who made our clothes.” A fleeting smile touched his mouth, and in that blink transformed it; but it was quickly dashed. He said, “We grew quickly, our changing musculature a constant strain on our uniforms. The tailor was there often, and he brought his girl – she was one of his daughters. We became fast friends – my only friend, really. The other boys were competition; we were pitted against one another, punished when we lost a sparring match. But she was–”

“Yes, yes, lovely as a spring morning,” Reginald griped, rolling his eyes. “As gentle as a kitten, with breath like roses and eyes like lambent pools. She wasspecial, yes? And she’s waiting for you at home?”

The prisoner drew himself stiffly upright, and held Amelia’s gaze, though a muscle in his lean cheek flexed. “My reasons are my own, but I wanted to go home. I didn’t want to die here, in this godforsaken wilderness.”

Amelia nodded. But she said, “I find it odd, however, that a boy brought up for a singular purpose, trained from birth to be a soldier in the imperial army, should have such independent ideas.”

It seemed an age before he blinked, and then he titled his head, a slight concession. “And I find it odd that now, of all times, is when the Drakes should remember that they are dragon riders.”

His gaze bored straight through her – not threatening, but knowing. She suppressed a shiver. According to Oliver, the Selesee emperor claimed that the Aquitainian magic, the Aeretollean magic, had been stolen from Seles. A tale of twin sisters, and one who’d fled, and birthed children amongst whom she’d divided her gifts. She, and Tessa, and Oliver, and Náli, no doubt Leif and Ragnar as well, had a wealth of questions. Questions only a Sel could answer. And here, for the first time, sat a Sel who wasn’t trying to kill them, and was answering questions instead.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“Cassius, my lady. My name is Cassius.”

~*~

“I don’t care what his bloody name is,” Connor said, once the prisoner – Cassius – was back in the wine cellar, chained once more, though more comfortably. “I say we lop off his head” – he chopped his arm through the air in demonstration – “and have done with it. Perhaps one of our strapping Northern lads would do the honor.” To Leif: “You could probably fell a tree with one swipe, couldn’t you, your grace?”

Leif’s lips compressed, and twitched to the side. He was stroking absently at one of the silver beads at the end of a braid, slouched with his elbows resting on the back of a chair, posture eloquent of fatigue and soreness. “I’ve never heard of a Sel being cooperative like that. The general we captured in Aeres certainly wasn’t.”

Colum, paging through a book at one of the reading tables, said, “It’s true what he said about being raised up a soldier: soldiers do not have families. There is a barracks of women made available several times a year to soldiers for breeding. When the children are born, they’re taken from the mothers and brought up without parents, only a sword master.”

“And they call us barbaric,” Amelia said.

Leda said, “I think we must consider the notion that he could be a planted spy. That he’ll offer us just enough truth to gain our trust, and fill in the gaps with lies that will get us killed.”

“That.” Connor snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “Exactly that.” He’d had more than the one cup of wine, at this point.

“No one’s suggesting we trust him,” Leif said, sternly.

“No,” Amelia agreed. “But I’m not willing to execute him just yet. I think there’s more we could learn from him.”

“Agreed.” Leif caught her eye, and his gaze looked relieved, she thought.

“The reassuring news is,” Ragnar said, dryly, dropping into a chair and sprawling across the whole, double-wide seat, affecting boredom, “you two” – finger pointing between Leif and Amelia – “are celebrities. He knew all about you.”

Leif turned to him. “Maybe because you told him all about us.”

Ragnar frowned. “When would I have done that?”

“I don’t know. When you were getting yourself turned into a bloody wolf in exchange for my head?”

Leif’s posture didn’t change, but Ragnar’s did, subtly. His foot – swinging over the arm of the chair – stilled, and his body tensed. His smirk froze, and then slowly crumbled. The torq bobbed on his throat. They held one another’s gazes a too-long moment, and it confirmed Amelia’s suspicion that Leif would be havingwordswith his beta later, when they were alone.

“I think,” Amelia said, “we can assume that the Sels know quite a lot about all of us.”

“They didn’t know about the drakes,” Reginald said, and everyone turned to him. He’d been brooding ever since they sent Cassius back down to the cellar, sipping at wine rather than contributing to the conversation. Amelia didn’t have to ask what he thought should be done with their prisoner: his answer had been plain in his expression from the first. “You heard what he said about you riding them,” he went on. “None of them thought you’d manage that. We have one advantage, at least.”

“May I suggest we keep it,” Leda said, surveying them all. “And that we get some sleep. We depart in two days’ time, after all.”