Page 156 of Whispers of Wisteria

“You seem stressed.” Maria smirked at his back. “Are you having trouble with your prisoner?”

“Not quite.” He squared his shoulders, and his stride deepened as he ducked under the rising cell door.

A chill settled over me, and I buried my face in my knees as he approached.

The self-assured tone was gone from Maria’s voice the next time she spoke. “What are you doing?”

“You couldn’t have thought I wouldn’t notice,” he said, disapprovingly, to Gloria.

She didn’t respond.

He towered over me and touched my neck, and I couldn’t move away quickly enough before he wrapped his hand behind my head and forced my face to turn towards his.

“Look at me,” he commanded, and my gaze inadvertently lifted to him. My skin was humming with the need to escape, and my thoughts were dizzy with panic.

Jameson’s eyes flashed with something I couldn’t pinpoint. His grip lightened as his scowl deepened, then he glared at Gloria.

“No one consulted me. You are even more foolish than I thought.”

“Jameson…” she began, her confidence briefly falling. But then she stood straighter and narrowed her eyes. “It was the right decision.”

Something in Jameson’s gaze sharpened before his expression smoothed into cold disinterest as two guards entered the room behind him.

“Regardless,” he said. “Tell me, what’s wrong with you?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing escaped past the pressure in my chest, and I couldn’t look away from his greenish-gray eyes. Eyes that, for a fraction of a second, seemed almost afraid.

“Are we going to do it?” one of the guards asked.

I fell back onto the floor as Jameson let me go and answered, “No.”

The guard stepped forward, tensing, “But the spell—”

“We cannot afford to make any rash moves,” Jameson replied, standing taller. “You never know what it might affect.”

“But—” he tried again.

“I’ve given my orders.” Jameson’s tone was final. “There are other ways to force the dragon outside of brute force.”

He looked down at me before glancing at Gloria. “They’re deep in enemy territory, and the compound is overrun with wolves,” he continued, speaking to the guards. “There will be no escape plan before we relocate, in any case.”

Escape…

My heart began to beat a little faster.

Was that even possible?

Jameson didn’t wait for a response—he clearly expected compliance—before he turned and stalked out of the dungeon. The guards, glancing at each other, followed behind.

Escape…

The word kept running through my thoughts long after Jameson left. That and, deep in my consciousness, was an order that I vaguely recalled but couldn’t pinpoint. Something from long ago, but that I was still holding on to.

Something from Mu.

Endure.

Hope.