Chapter 27.

Rebekah.

Night falls, but no peace comes with it.

The dungeon is silent save for the distant drip of water echoing from somewhere deep within the stone walls. I must have drifted off, because I’m waking now, heart pounding, gasping from a dream—a nightmare of ogres dragging me through fire, trolls laughing as they pulled my limbs in opposite directions.

I jolt upright. My back aches. My lips are cracked and dry. My stomach clenches from hunger, and my head swims with exhaustion. I press a hand to the dirt-caked floor and try to still my breathing.

This isn’t a dream. I’m still here.

Still in Neriah’s dungeon.

I blink through the dark. No one comes. Time drags like a corpse behind a cart. I don’t know how long I sit huddled against the wall, knees to my chest, when suddenly—

Footsteps.

Voices.

I scramble to my feet, ears straining.

The cell door creaks open, spilling in torchlight. Dalkino stands there like a statue made of cold rage, eyes unblinking, mouth set.