“This is your fault.” Archem knocked his foot against the metal bars. “Hey! Did you hear me?”

“Keep repeating it, I’m sure it’ll make you feel better.”

Archem looked taken aback, or maybe he forgot she was laying against Lysander’s side. He stopped throwing accusations at her friend and targeted her instead.

“Why are you defending him? He could’ve killed you with that little stunt,” Archem didn’t have much strength in his voice. Being knocked unconscious did that to a person. His voice was still a bit slurred.

“You can hardly blame someone for passing out.” She would not voice how frustrated she was that he kept the seriousness of his condition from her. How long had he been dropping in and out, and never said a word?

 “Well, I can!” Snapped River. “Our family relies on the income we bring in. Now we have no job and are locked in prison. Even if we get out, who will hire convicted criminals?”

Lilac raised her head and stroked the feathers under the dragon’s chin. “It’s alright River, we will find a way to support them.”

The dragon maintained her position, accepting the assuring strokes, but her eyes hardened and her lips drew back to reveal rows of jagged teeth. “No, it’s not alright. My partner cannot work, yours has to look after your baby.” Then she pulled away to raise her head far above Lys and Para, to look down upon them like they were insolent children. “You have ruined us with your carelessness. Do not act like this came out of nowhere,” she jabbed an accusatory finger at Lys, who sunk back.

“You took the risk, you knew the repercussions.” Para sat up so her voice would carry.  

“Would you want to disappoint your family and friends?” Spoke up Archem, his voice quiet, resigned. He sat curled up against Ren, arms around his legs and chin resting on his knees.

“What family and friends?” Para laughed, loud and bitterly. “You’re looking at my ‘family and friends’ right her,” she gestured with two hands towards Lys.

Banging sounded down the hallway, rhythmic, to catch their attention. Para did not stand as the guard appeared, he did not deserve the decency after the way he treated prisoners. She still had blood caked to her hair.

“Vale, you have a visitor.”

The other man sitting against Ren startled and raised his head, eyes wide and glowing in the dim light.

The woman on the other side of the bars looked like should could be their triplet.

She had her arms folded over a violet silk shirt and looked bitterly disappointed. “I told you this would catch up to you in the end.”

Vale hung his head. “I know.”

Archem had also risen and was lingering a step behind Vale, lurking and listening, but not speaking. He was not quite pacing, rather taking a step one way, then the other, as though he would be unable to hear the conversation if he moved away any farther.

The woman signed and tipped her head back.

“You're bail is ridiculous, how many people did you murder?”

“Okay, that’s enough,” barked the guard. “We have an important visitor coming soon. Take your charge and leave.”

Para’s brows shot up. These three had a wealthy connection. A very wealthy connection.

Archem began to buzz, shifting back and forth like a fly trying to land on a rotting fruit. Ren just watched the guard intently and made no move to stand.

As the door opened, Archem shot through only to run into the guard’s outstretched arm.

“Not you.” The guard pushed him back in.

Archem staggered and caught himself against Ren. “What?”

The wealthy one raised a hand roughly. “I only have enough for Vale. Sorry Archem.”

Not so wealthy after all.

“Your condemning me to death!” Archem yelled and threw himself against the guard, who simply grunted and pushed him back. That was not a wise move, for Archem straightened with his eyes on another target.

He leapt at Vale and flung an arm around his neck.

“Either we both leave, or neither of us do.” Archem had his teeth bared and a wild look about him.

No amount of sword waving from the guard could dissuade a man on death row.

“Support!” Called the guard. “I require support!”

Footsteps came thundering down the hall before he had finished speaking. Four more guards appeared and sprung into the mess, which has since expanded to include Ren, though it was unclear if he was helping separate the two, or trying to get the guards off.

Five guards. Two from the cell corridor, one from the door, one who watched over the reposted items, and one from the top of the stairs. That left the remaining guard who manned the front desk, she had glanced up as they came in but paid them no real mind. In Para’s case, that was as good as having entered unnoticed.

“I have an idea,” she whispered to Lys. His none brass affected ear flicked. She leaned closer to avoid anyone else in the cell hearing. “I’ll sneak out and pretend I'm with that important person, and that we have paid for your release.”

He nodded once. Parting from him brought a wave of uncertainty. What ifs plagued her mind. Her ability to go unseen was vague and never full proof. The chaos in the cell was a good distraction and she could only hold her breath and hope, as she slipped past.

No one so much as glanced her way, not even the other prisoners.

Cautiously she made her way down the corridor and to the confiscated items room.

Whoever maintained the space deserved an award, she had to admit the labelled boxes were handy. She grinned as soon as she spotted theirs.

She pulled open the one labelled Dragon: Lysander, and her smile vanished. Torn straps of leather lay over their saddle, which had split apart in several places and was spilling out flocking. The breastplate was completely ripped apart in several places, and had taken the saddle attachment points with it.

She rubbed her fingers against the leather grain. Racing saddles were not designed to last, it was one of the reasons this one had come so cheap. Still, it had been an investment that was meant to last for years to come.

She touched it one more time, slowly, and moved onto their bags.

Spare clothing and rations could be replaced. Though she extracted her favourite coat and threw it on. All their most important possessions lived in a pair of saddle bags for this very purpose. She tossed those over her shoulder. And couldn’t help but take a few more items from the other bags that she loathe to lose and stuffed them in her coat pockets.

Loosening her dark ash hair from its tie minimised some of her more prominent features, though the deep purple skin and large mismatched canines were difficult to hide, particularly when the latter had fissures of light running throughout.

Disguise as good as it was going to get, she held her head high and walked out of the room. Not owning the space nor trying to dissapear into the shadows, a background actor in a stage play, who did nothing memorable yet slotted in perfectly. The epitome of her very existence.

The stairs blurred and she crouched, hand outstretched against the wall. She almost threw up there and then, but managed to swallow the nausea and keep going.

At the top of the stairs was a short corridor leading to a door. Through the door was another short corridor leading to an open space, the desk beside it was empty.  Prisons loved their corridors, far harder to escape when you had to get through a narrow space, that was more than likely blocked by a beefy guard.

From her pockets, she extracted two small containers, and took a pinch of the paste inside each. She rubbed it together and tacked it onto the leg of the chair, and proceeded to prop the chair up against the wall, precariously staying upright.

The only person who had not left their position was the Rask at the front door. She was busy writing frantically in a book, frequently flicking over pages.

Para lightened her footsteps but maintained an air of nonchalance. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the guard carefully for any unexpected movements.

Behind her came a bang, and a thunk. Right on cue, the guard’s head shot up and she was on her feet, sword in hand and eyes locked down the corridor Para had emerged from.

She rushed past Para, not sparing her a glance.

The moment the guard’s head passed the threshold of the corridor, Para covered the rest of the room in a few long steps and snatched the book from the desk. If lucky, she had a couple minutes at best before the guard realised all that had happened was a chair had fallen over. Char marks on one leg would draw a bit of attention but ultimately be dismissed as coincidental. The explosive paste was consumed in the explosion.

The book was a ledger as she expected, there was always documentation of visitors, both short term and long term. This was not her first foray behind bars.

She flicked through quickly, searching for fresh ink, a current date, or anything else that stood out as recent. Though her memory was perfect, she couldn’t mentally process information any faster than the average person.

There, a gleam of fresh writing.

She skimmed the prisoners brought in that day. Unsurprisingly, she was no on the list. Someone had written Accompanying VirNox beside Lysander’s entry and forgotten to provide further detail. The rest of the group was there. Two other prisoners had come in yesterday.

She paused, had it really been that long?

Only one other prisoner came in yesterday, the owner of a Magic Bank. She clenched her teeth so hard they ached. People did not look too favourably upon male only brothels offering the possibility of conceiving offspring with certain magical abilities. A new class of elite was developing, those who carried magic in their veins.

The Sil who could shift into their spiritual animal, and those of Nox blood who could wield light energy.

Naturally, brothels arose offering certain services and a promise of a VirNox or VirSil. The Crown was quick to make them illegal. It was up to each duchy to enforce the new laws, of suffer the wrath of the Crown Queen.

Guests to the prison were listed on the next page. It hurt to read, her forehead screaming against the effort. There were only two visiting names on the list and her eyes immediately flicked to the second.

Raphael Eddings.

It was underlined.