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I turned my head and made eye contact with the group. “I’ll have silence.”

Immediately, the laughter cut off. The offenders bowed their heads, contrition on their faces.

I faced the squire. “Where are your gloves, lad?”

“I don’t have any, my lord.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “My father wouldn’t purchase them, sir. He said a strong warrior doesn’t need them.”

The silence from my knights and the other squires was deafening now. I could almost sense the thoughts rising from the group, reactions ranging from mockery to sympathy. My response would determine which one followed the boy to the Thicket. Sympathy might do more harm than good. The boy was already embarrassed, but he’d decided humiliation was preferable to the lash. How many times had I faced the same decision? How often had I gone without something because my father decided I didn’t deserve it?

Too often.

I turned and gestured to the knights behind me. “Tell me, lad, do these males appear weak to you?”

The squire’s gaze moved over the knights, each one packed with muscle and nearing seven feet tall. The squire shook his head. “No, my lord.”

“And they’re all wearing gloves, are they not?”

“Yes, General.”

I nodded. “That’s settled, then. Strong warriors wear gloves.” I pulled mine off and handed them to the boy. “You’ll wear these for today.” I turned to go.

“But…”

I swung back. “What is it, boy? We’re running late as it is.”

“What about you, my lord?” He held the gloves out, as if he meant to return them.

I shook my head. “I told you, I’m from the Wastes. I’m used to the cold.”

“Varick.”

The sound of my name brought my head up. I’d been dreaming, but now I slumped on my knees in Given’s Middling.

She knelt before me and took my hands. “Are you all right?”

It took me a second to get my bearings. I looked around the clearing with its tall, swaying grasses. “You brought me here.” She was getting better at it. Even as weak as she was, she’d pulled me into her space.

“Where are you right now? In the real world, I mean.”

“Same room,” I rasped. “They haven’t moved me to the Hall since the first time we…” I swallowed, reluctant to remind either of us why I was in that room.

“Is there a guard?”

“Not that I’ve seen.” That didn’t mean one wasn’t present—or at least nearby. But the line between reality and illusion was so blurred for me now, I couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. “I think Midian knew I would stay down for a while. I was passed out when he left.”

She squeezed my hands. “I know a way out of the castle, but we have to move quickly. There’s a door that leads outside. I promise I’ll explain later. Right now, we need to leave before Midian shows up again. Do you know the hall of statues?”

“Pedestals,” I said. “Everything is smashed and broken.” I’d passed through it when the demons dragged me from the Great Hall to the bedchamber.

She nodded. “That’s where we need to go. When I release us from this place, I want you to leave your room and meet me there. Will you do that?”

My gut clenched. “If he catches you—”

“He won’t. I’ll be careful, and so will you.” She stood and tugged on my hands until I stood, too. Her blue eyes were tired but determined. “Do you trust me?”

She was tall for a female, but she was still so small compared to me—and even more so now that she was starved for sleep, food, and blood. And yet she’d never given up. Throughout our entire ordeal, she’d shown as much strength and resolve as any knight.

No, as any warrior.