They'd yanked him and Feyla apart before the pain had even faded enough for Sedgewick to think of hanging on.

Until the cloud of pain lifted.

Sedgewick lashed out at Crayden, but the brute holding him clamped down harder on his arms. "You treacherous rat! I ought to have let you get hacked to death by a Northlander, you sorry son of a witch!"

"Now there's no reason to drag my mother into this. I've kept up my part of the bargain," Crayden said, smirking at Sedgewick's attempts at escaping.

"Liar," snarled Feyla.

"Am I?" asked Crayden, folding his hands behind his back as he paced between the two of them. "No, I don't think so." He shrugged. "You asked for supplies and a place to hide; I gave you what you could afford. You asked for my silence; I haven't told anyone outside my organization. And I won't." Crayden pulled out a watch. "For another sixteen hours. You paid enough for forty-eight and that's what you've got left."

"Then why don't you let us leave?" demanded Sedgewick, gritting his teeth.

Crayden chuckled deeply. "I'm supposed to keep you hidden, Alverdyne. Wouldn't be doin' a very good job if I let you wander around the city, now would I?" He bent closer, his white teeth glinting in the light. "Be honest, just how did you see this ending?"

"Differently," Sedgewick said, the dryness of him mouth taking out some of the fire in his voice.

Crayden rose to his full height and stepped away. "Since you can't seem to piece things together nearly as good as you think you can, I'll tell you how it's going to end. Your own ministry's after you. I could strike a deal. A chunk of the palace treasury would look real nice in my office. Half the black magic community would love a chance to get at you, including a certain Northlander sorceress who sent me a very angry message the other day. Gates, I could probably start a bidding war. But even if by some miracle you did get away... you're on the Magiatic council, aren't you? Don't they have pretty violent rules when it comes to mages who switch sides? I wouldn't be surprised if they haven't already sent someone to knock you off. Either way, I'm coming out ahead. And you're most likely coming up dead."

The anger that had been driving Sedgewick since he awoke was wiped away as Crayden's words sunk in. He was right. Who could he run to when everyone was chasing him? He had no magic, no resources. As for allies... Sedgewick stared at Feyla. She swallowed and stared back at him. Her eyes were wide with fear, but lingering like an ember in a pile of ashes was also...hope. She still believed he could get them out of this. Still believed in him.

Sedgewick turned away, too cowardly to watch as he killed it. A damp chill settled into his bones and he suddenly felt incredibly old, like every failure had finally sunk into his veins and left him shrivel and weak. Finality set in. Sedgewick had thought he'd failed before. That was nothing compared to now.

He hung his head and stared blankly at a knot in the wooden floor. "May I make a request?"

Crayden sighed. "Sure, why not? But hurry up; I have prices to haggle."

Sedgewick closed his eyes. "Please, Feyla— Miss Everbloom won't— she won't get you anything. Could you please just..."

"Sedgewick Alverdyne, don't you dare!" Feyla shriek beside him. He didn't look.

"Yeah, yeah, spare my lady love and all that, gates, you've gotten pathetic." Crayden snapped his fingers. His men began dragging Feyla out of the room.

"Let me go! Sedgewick, please, don't do this! Sedgewick? SEDGEWICK! Look at me, you jerk! I swear when I get my hands on you—"

The last thing he saw of Feyla were her feet digging into the floor before the door slammed closed. The hands on him finally slacked. Sedgewick slumped to the floor, the fight in him as dead as his magic.

"Still going for the crazy ones, I see. Well, nice to know some things never change." Crayden slapped him on the shoulder.

He stayed silent.

Crayden raised an eyebrow. "What? No clever retort? No sarcastic comeback?"

Sedgewick stared the man down, his face haggard and his eyes empty.

Crayden shuffled his feet and looked away. "It's not personal, all right? If you're not a mage and you're not a wizard then I ain't got any use for you. It's just the way this life of ours works. You know I've never been able to resist an opportunity when I see one." He turned back to Sedgewick as if waiting for a response.

He was met with silence.

Crayden growled in his throat. "Fine! Take it personally for all I care." He snapped at one of his men. "Get him out. I've got a business to run."

If it had been a training session, Feyla would have been rather proud of herself.

Of course, if it were a training session then the man she hadn't taken down wouldn't be slamming her into the wall.

Feyla groaned as Crayden's goon muttered obscenities under his breath while pinning her arms behind her back.

"I told you we should have tied her up to start with!" cried out another man as he clutched his limp arm, deadened and useless after Feyla had jabbed him with a needle full of numbing potion. He kicked his foot against the one Feyla had managed to knock out.

"How was I supposed to know she was some crazy warrior lady?!"

"She was with him, what'd you expect?"

"I'm not a warrior; I'm a retired battle healer! Know your terms; there's a big difference," Feyla snapped, twisting against the man's hold to no avail. The rope tightened around her wrists and Limp-arm relaxed.

"Ya know, I've had a long night and I really don't need people—" Hobrin's eyes widened as he stared at the scene in the hall. "Gates, lady. You cause more trouble than I thought."

The man holding her wrists sighed with relief. He thrust her toward Hobrin like a sack of grain. "The boss wants her under lock. I'm taking these two to get fixed up. Watch her; there's a snake under that pretty face."

Feyla glared at the man before Limp-arm shuddered and tugged him away.

"Think you could get me up to speed? Thought you were nursing Master My-magic-overheated?" Hobrin asked as he helped Feyla steady herself.

"Crayden's selling Sedgewick out. I don't really know what's happening with me. Sedgewick asked him to keep me safe..." Feyla's jaw clenched. She closed her stinging eyes and twisted against her ropes. "Which is stupid because we'll need to work together to get out of here!"

Hobrin's hand clamped down on her wrists. She tried to twist away, but his grip was deceptively strong and unwavering as he began pushing her down the hallway. "Sounds like Crayden all right."

"What— What are you doing?"

"Hey, just because I like ya doesn't mean I don't have a job to do. Besides, you keep turnin' the halls into a battle zone and Crayden might not be so pleasant. He's probably feeling a bit guilty right now." Hobrin glanced back at the hallway, his eyes lingering on the vase she'd broken and the tapestry she'd tore off the wall. He raised his eyebrows as if impressed. "There any more of you?"

"Healers?"

"No, pretty women who are good in a fight," he said, leading them down a flight of stairs.

Feyla smiled. If it were a bit wider than usual, Hobrin shouldn't have noticed. She shuffled a little closer. "Are you sure you couldn't— "

"Nope." He tugged open a thick door and pushed her inside. The room was bare except for a pot and a bed that looked like it had been picked up in an alleyway after the cheapest inn in the city had refused to touch it.

Panic hit her, hard and fast like she'd been thrust under a waterfall. Feyla whipped around to Hobrin. He released her wrists. A sob caught in her throat as she stared at him. "I need to save him," Feyla choked out.

Hobrin shook his head.

"Please, Hobrin." She was crying now, hot tears staining her dirty cheeks as all her worries and fears pounded down on her. Sedgewick needed her. She'd never seen him look so broken. They had to get out and regroup before Crayden contacted anyone.

"It's not gonna make a difference! He's just as dead in here as he is out on the streets. Why do you think Crayden was willing to backstab him like that?"

"Lying's unbecoming!" she screamed between sobs.

"It's not a lie!" Hobrin shouted in her face. He stepped back and clenched his jaw. She tried to meet his eyes but he refused to look at her.

Just like Sedgewick, Feyla thought. Another sob escaped her.

Hobrin shuffled his feet. "I ain't lying. The ministry might keep him alive for a while."

Not with Tyrinn leading them, she thought, the weight on her chest doubling while she sobbed again.

"But the black magic users will kill him on the spot. And the tower... They've got this guy. I heard he used to be a wizard before he switched sides. Archmage sends him after defectors. Even if you leave Abreyla, you'll still be hunted. Death'll catch up with him. Crayden's just scheduling it a bit sooner." He finally glanced at her, only to huff with frustration. "Why do you care so much about this guy anyway?"

Feyla grew quiet. In the past, she'd asked herself that same question. Thankfully, it was one she'd long discovered the answer to. She stared at the empty wall, collecting herself before beginning. "I like mending things. Toys, clothes, wounds. I used— I used to view him like that. Something I could fix." Feyla took a breath and stared at him. "But you can't 'fix' someone; only they can do that. Sedgewick has flaws," she said, her voice gaining confidence. "But so do I. So does everyone. And his aren't any worse than mine. They're just different. And sometimes easier to see. At heart, he's a good man. Better than he thinks he is. And when he realizes that, I'm going to be there. Because I love him. Even the unlovable parts."

Hobrin sighed. "You could've just said that last part. No need for a big speech." He hissed through his teeth and shook his head. "Crayden'll kill me if I let you two go, but I'm not heartless." He pulled her over and undid her hands, retying them in the front. "If you really meant all that, it'd be kind of cruel of us to not give you a proper goodbye.'

Feyla cried out in joy and pressed a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you!"

Hobrin flushed four shades of green and swallow hard. "Don't mention it, especially not to Crayden. And no tricks, got that?"

Feyla nodded but inside she was already mulling over ways she could get Sedgewick out.

Lying might be unbecoming but this seemed like a good exception.