[Choice C (WattpadWesterns): Accept her help and flee on the back of a horse, but get caught in a dangerous shoot out.]

Water dripped in a corner of Tarah's cell, falling exactly twenty times every sixty seconds. Tarah knew this because she had counted them over the last four days since her unceremonious capture. Counting, at least, kept her mind off of the damp chill and foul, musty odor that permeated the entire Roman dungeon.

Counting also kept her from reliving the night she was captured by a legion, stripped of her fine Egyptian garments, and thrown into the cell wearing little more than a rough potato sack. No matter how tight she curled into a ball at night, the sack provided little warmth. It would be only a matter of time before she came down with pneumonia.

"Are you ready to talk, Pirate Queen?"

Tarah looked up as a guard holding a large torch approached her cell. She winced and closed her eyes, the light proving too harsh.

"I told you—I don't know where it is."

The guard growled and rattled the bars of her cell with the torch. Sparks flew off and scattered across the damp stone.

Tarah gasped and lunged toward the embers, desperately scooping her hands around the puff of warmth.

"Your trial is tomorrow," the guard told her. "Either give up the location of your treasure or die in the Coliseum."

Tarah's chin lifted sharply. There was no use explaining to the guard she couldn't tell him the location because the woman whose body she was currently inhabiting was keeping it secret. For the last four days, when she wasn't counting water droplets, Tarah had been pleading and groveling before Annabelle Zhao, the notorious pirate queen the Romans believed her to be, into giving up the coordinates. But as suppressed as Annabelle's soul has been throughout Tarah's journey, there appeared to be one thing the pirate was in complete control of—even with the threat of death looming over both of them.

Guard and pirate stared at each other in silence until the man shook his head. "Fine, then," he ground out. "I'll enjoy watching you be torn apart by the lions."

With that, the guard stalked away, taking the only source of light with him. Tarah watched him go, staring hungrily at the flame until it disappeared from view. Without a distraction from the cold, her teeth began to chatter, clacking against each other like tiny slabs of brick.

"So. Here sits the twin-souled girl."

Tarah rubbed her arms and forced herself to look once more at the bars. A beautiful dark-haired woman stood in the guard's place; she wore a long, flowing black off-the-shoulder gown, leaving her arms and feet bare. How in God's name was this woman not freezing?

"Which one am I talking to? The girl beyond worlds or the pirate queen?"

Tarah stared, body shaking with cold.

The stunning woman made a clucking sound of disapproval. "Well, it doesn't really matter. I have a proposition for you."

"W-what is it-t-t?" Tarah managed to force out.

"Oh?" The woman's arched eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I wasn't planning on you agreeing so easily." She looked around Tarah's small cell and shook her head. "But I suppose it is quite cold in here." With a flick of her slim hand, a small fire appeared on the floor of the cell.

Tarah gasped at the sudden influx of warmth and practically threw herself on top of the flames. She'd rather burn than be cold again.

"Be careful," the mysterious woman murmured as the smell of burnt potato sack filled the air.

Tarah jerked backward and slapped at her chest, but her garment was only slightly singed. Suddenly lucid, she tore her attention away from the fire and focused on the woman. "Are you here to break me out?" Tarah asked.

The woman favored her with a small, secretive smile. "That's entirely dependant on if you will help me out."

"With what?" Tarah asked dubiously.

"A favor to be called in later."

But it's not as if Tarah was in any position to argue. "All right," she agreed.

The woman smiled and waved her hand; Tarah jumped backward as the iron bars simply melted into the floor.

"What's your name, anyway?" Tarah asked as the woman hustled them through the cavernous dungeon.

"Circe."

Why did she know that name?

"Here, you might need these," Circe said as they emerged into a wide-open courtyard. A lone grey mare stood tethered to a post.

Tarah held out her hands, accepting the ornate flintlock pistols the sorceress passed to her. Just as she was examining the pistols, there was a shout and a flaming arrow shot out of the tunnel to the prison. It strung the flagstones at the mare's hooves. There was a wild yell and a dozen legionnaires began to run toward them.

"Best get on and start using those things," Circe suggested, leaping onto the mare's back. The tether disappeared as she wheeled the grey horse around.

Tarah took one look at the spear-wielding soldiers and jumped, scrambling onto the mare's back. She wrapped one hand around Circe's middle as the sorceress kicked the mare into a run.

The first leap jolted Tarah and she missed her shot, striking a tower. A fierce volley of arrows whistled through the air, one grazing the mare's haunches. The horse squealed and bucked, but Circe pressed her onward.

Taking a deep breath, Tarah sighted the pistol and channeled Annabelle Zhao. The pirate queen's memories came through and her second and third shots found their targets. Legionnaires dropped to the ground, spears clattering on stone.

Two more shots, two more soldiers fell.

An arrow whizzed by Tarah's head; she could feel the fletching graze her cheek. Still, the mare ran on, taking them beneath an open portcullis. Gripping Circe's middle, Tarah watched as they gradually drew away from the legionnaires and the prison. She took a few more shots, just for good measure, then stowed the pistols in the drawstring waistband of her potato sack.

Freedom.

[Purchased cotton balls at the Port Market to remove the siren's curse.]