Chapter 39

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Anya had to tell someone.  Damani was right.  She could not kill the king.  Even if she somehow managed, and even if she somehow escaped, would Thorne ever release Damani and Kallie?  Let her go?  No.  It would continue for as long as Thorne could drag it out.

She could not just tell anyone because word of it could go to Thorne.  Yet her brother was still in the city.  If they acted now, perhaps he could be followed and Kallie could be rescued.

Jim could search for him magically.  Lord Wildwood probably could too.

Anya scrambled across the room to the door and banged upon it.  There had to be a guard outside.  "Please!  I need to speak to Lord Wildwood!" Anya begged loudly.  They would help her, surely they would.

There was no answer.  Had they left the door unguarded?  Surely not.  "Please!  It's urgent!  I need to speak to the Wizard Jim, or Lord Wildwood!  Please!  Is someone out there?  Anyone!  Please bring Lord Wildwood!"  Anya banged on the door.  There was no time to lose.

"Be quiet."  The gruff words came through the solid wood of the door.

"No!" Anya said loudly.  She hoped that she woke the whole floor.  "I need to speak with Lord Wildwood now!  Right now!  Please."

The door was unlocked and swung open so quickly that Anya was almost hit by it.  A strange guard stood before her and he looked angry.  "Silence!" he said in a suitably loud voice.

"I need to speak to Lord Wildwood.  It's really important."

"What is?" he asked coldly.

"I need to tell them something.  I need to speak to Lord Wildwood.  Or the Wizard Jim.  Or anyone from his party.  I need help."

The guard looked at her with narrowed eyes.  "You need help?  I couldn't care less what a murderous, traitorous witch needs.  You'll get what you deserve, and naught else."  He slammed the door before Anya could say anything else.

Damani was leaving the city, and their chance to follow them even as the guard ignored her.  "Please.  It's important!  I have information," she said again, but there was no answer.

Anya continued to bang and beg until she knew that it had to be too late.  Thorne had certainly taken her brother far from her by now.

Anya threw herself back on the small bed.  She felt like crying, but it was as if her tears had all dried up.

This was what she had to look forward to.  If she was not executed by the king's orders she would undoubtedly spend the rest of her life in his jail, being treated as if she were not even a person.  They would hate her not just because of what she had tried to do, but also because she was a witch.  And there, she would have nowhere to hide from their scorn.  She would be trapped forever.

It was clear to Anya that she once again had no choice.  There really was no one who could help her now.  She would do what Thorne had ordered.  And she would almost certainly die a traitor's death.  She supposed that it was no less than she deserved.

Anya lay back on the bed.  She felt unnaturally calm, as if she were already dead.

Restless, she got up and picked up the dagger from under the bed.  She pulled it out of the sheath.  The weapon was smooth and reflected the early morning sky on its smooth side.  It looked very sharp.

It probably would not be very effective in the hands of someone inexperienced like herself.  Luckily, she still secretly carried a different weapon.  She could feel the two remaining vials tied to her arm, and there was some comfort in the knowledge.  Even Thorne did not know that she had such secrets.

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