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“You shouldn’t be here,” someone says.

“I’m injured. Broken heart. Hoping she can work some magic.”

“Identify yourself,” another guard demands.

Kellyn sighs dramatically. “I was hoping you would hand her over. Fine. I’ll just be going, then.”

Hands clamp over my upper arms and haul me behind the drapes. The fabric settles into place just as I hear running footsteps fly by, followed by so many more. Where the end of the drapes meets the wall, there’s the smallest gap, and I watch Kellyn barrel down the hallway, five men in pursuit.

“Come on,” Petrik says, gripping my arm.

They left one guard behind with a spear, and she raises it at Petrik and me.

Our weapons are still up in the attic.

She rushes me, and I just barely dodge out of the way. On instinct, my hands wrap around the spear shaft, trying to wrest the weapon from her.

Petrik comes over to help me, but the guard kicks out at him, and the wind goes out from his lungs.

I have her beat in strength, but I’m untrained. I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared to make too much noise. I yank at the weapon, pull the guard across the hallway, smash her back into the opposite wall. Then I shove the shaft toward her neck, cutting off her air supply.

It’s horrible, standing there, hurting someone. At least with my weapons, it’s over quickly, and I can move on before I have toomuch time to think about it. But here, I watch the guard’s eyes roll back into her head, feel her body go limp in front of me, watch her slide to the floor.

A whimper escapes me, and no amount of blinking will make the scene in front of me change.

“Ziva!” Petrik’s breath rushes into him all at once. “Search the walls. Look for any grooves or anything at all!”

I remember the task at hand, even though my hands shake, and my mind is a complete mess. Smoothing my hands flat against the wall, I pray for something to materialize beneath my fingers. Nothing happens when I move my hands side to side, but when I start to reach toward the ceiling—

“Petrik!”

Fabric comes up with my fingers, and then I’m yanking, pulling, until a long cloth detaches from the wall. When I catch it in my fingers, it still bears the same pattern as the stone wall surrounding it, obscuring the door hidden beneath.

I wonder for just a moment if Ravis has gotten his hands on another magical cloth weaver, before I toss the fabric to the ground and pull the pins from the door as I did in the attic. This one locks on the outside, clearly trying to keep someone from escaping.

My heart is in my throat when I finally get the last pin and pull. There’s a noise, but I hope Kellyn’s distraction is enough to keep anyone from noticing.

A woman, who I assume had been lying on a divan, is now bolted upright. She’s in a nightdress, her hair loose around her face. It looks as though it’s been recently brushed. The curls are somewhat flattened, but the volume is intense as it falls nearly down to her waist. Her eyes are a warm brown, her skin just a bit lighter. More amber-colored than Petrik’s deep brown.

“Serutha!” Petrik says.

“Petrik?” She blinks, as though not trusting her eyes.

“We’re here to rescue you.”

The woman holds her arms around herself. “You shouldn’t be here. The last people who tried to save me were beheaded. I know because Ravis left their heads in here for a week. I couldn’t breathe for the smell.”

All I need is confirmation that she’s who we’re looking for. The rest can wait until later. I get behind the healer and push her in the right direction.

“You can tell us all about your stay later,” I say. “Right now, there is someone who needs your help.”

Serutha doesn’t resist. She pads barefoot beside me, my hand on her arm to steer her in the right direction.

“How did you find my room?” she asks. “It was hidden. Magicked.”

“We guessed,” Petrik answers.

“Where are the guards?”